There comes a time in every man's life when he gambles all of his prized possessions, in hopes of "hitting it big". In my short fable life, I've traveled the seas, dined with royalty as well as paupers, and been faced with more challenges than the bulk of mankind is put up to the test with in an average life span of seventy five years. From the elaborately decorated streets of Boca Raton, Florida, to the countries of Europe, to the glaciers of Alaska and islands of Hawaii, to the second floor of the Jack Nicklaus Children's Hospital, to the countries of Southeast Asia, to the land of Terps, to the exclusive country-club setting university better know as "theU", to the holy grounds of Eretz Israel. And now it is time to take my vessel to yet another place, a place of southern comfort. A place that I have dreamed of for the longest time, a place that Sports Illustrated describes as "the quintessential college town". Replaying the images of my life forward and backwards, I see a trend, a trend that is portrayed by a little boy decorated in either a powdered blue tee shirt, pair of shorts, headwear, or even numerous pairs of sneakers outlined with University Blue. In almost every image I hold in my possession, I am wearing something that features that "UNC" aura. I've always known where I wanted to be, but never had the resources until now to get here. For the majority of my life, with the exception of my birth in Long Island, I've been living in a bubble. A vision that only millions can dream about. I've been sheltered from the diverse offering of our humanity, with the exposure only to as Robin Leach would say "the lifestyles of the rich and famous".
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 least 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.
A part from growing up in a bubble of wealth and superficiality, I chose to continue my life with the same lifestyle. For certain reasons, I had to withdraw from the University of Maryland, although I tried to sugarcoat my anger and frustration by making lucid excuses for leaving, but now the truth comes out, and I chose to take a step backwards and return to that superficial lifestyle. The second semester of college was one of the worse times of my college experience, returning to the life that I lead in my teenager years, with individuals who I grew up, with the same faces but different names. Already frustrated for having to leave Maryland, I bit my tongue and swallowed my pride and entered Miami with an optimistic outlook and positive attitude. Halfway through the semester, I was begging my parents to let me apply for transfer to other universities such as Emory, Washington University, UNC-Chapel Hill, Georgetown, and Carnegie Mellon. However they refused as they wished to still monitor my health closely and told me to hang in there, be patient and things will fall into place, as any loving parent would tell their children. I gave it time and we'll they were right. Within time I began meeting people, including one of my first friends, who I met in my political science course. I was beginning to feel more acquainted and adjusted with the life and environment, but I still had that empty spot. I finished my freshmen year at Miami with an above superior GPA, but that came at the expense of a mediocre social experience. Coming into my sophomore year at Miami, I was really optimistic and positive once again, about expanding my network of friendships. My only endeavors were to upkeep my near perfect academic index and join a fraternity in order to repair that hollow spot haunting my mental skeleton. I rushed a few fraternities but after two weeks of spending time with these individuals I had no intention of pretending to be there friends, I was not going to relive my high school experience for the next three years. I knew what I wanted and none of these individuals fit the bill as cruel as that sounds. For fall, I was halfway amused with my social calendar up until about the first month in, when I began meeting more and more people, including four of my closest friends from Mahoney Floor 6. My weekends were turning into weekends of boredom and depression into weekends filled with excitement and joy. However, I still was not feeling that I could truly spend my final two years of college at this place. Over winter break, I received approval from both my parents and my doctors that if I wanted to that I could relocate to another university, meaning any university that my heart so desired. As soon as I got home, I pulled out the Kaplan College Book and began my treasure hunt. Narrowing in on universities that appealed to me and from that moment I knew that I've always been a TarHeel in my heart and that it was where I wanted to go. For fall semester, with even my turning point social life, I still managed to finish with a 3.94 GPA, raising my overall GPA to a 3.86. I had all the resources I needed to get into almost any university that I desired. I debated about turning my applications for UCLA and Berkeley, but fate spoke to me when I found out I missed the deadlines which were in late November. With a perfect GPA, three leadership positions, involvement in seven staple student organizations, I was the model student and I was confident that any university would want another asset such as myself at their institution. With that mindset, I turned in my applications to the University of North Carolina and on a whim for a laugh, I filed an application for the McIntire School of Commerce at UVA, which only takes about 10 students from out of state every year. Without surprise, I was denied, but I could careless, because a month or so before, in Mr. Valiente's MKT301 class, I received some of the best news of my life when I saw that popup that said "It is with pleasure to offer you admissions for Fall 2009 to the University of North Carolina". My smile lit up the room. However, I was facing a major deliberation. Between winter break and April 11th, 2009, my life at the University of Miami had managed to go from mediocre to beyond amazing. What could make for such a sudden change, you may ask? And all I have to A E ∏. Within the course of four months, my satisfaction level had been raised to the red line.
It is very hard to leave such amazing individuals, individuals who I am proud to call my brothers, unlike the other individuals that I met in Fall, clones of the jocky, conceited people that roamed the halls of Spanish River and acted as I'll call them acquaintances at one moment and the next just ignored you, I was not looking for type of friendship. My brothers are all knowledgeable, down to earth individuals who come from middle class and upper middle class families such as myself but do not lead superficial lives. However one reason is not enough for me to continue the life that I've been leading for the past twenty, almost twenty one years. Coral Gables is limiting me from expanding my mind, not academically, but merely in a more social context. I love being Jewish and being a part of a Jewish fraternity, but I want to see that other side of the world. I want to interact with the next Gandhi, Michael Jordan, and perhaps the genius who will find a cure for all cancers. I want to taste different foods and hymn tunes in exotic languages. Not to mention that the campus life of Miami is almost nonexistent, and I want to be able to feel that school-spirit as I stroll across the lawns of campus. I want to be able to walk to a stadium and tailgate in the same vicinities, not a half hour drive away. I want to be able to celebrate my university's athletic victories, such as the reign as national champions in NCAA basketball, inside of the comfort of my fraternity house, not in some overly priced and plush club on South Beach. I want to experience college, that college momentum I was entrapped by at the University of Maryland at College Park that I've failed to lose desire for and accept the other offerings that theU supplies to thousands of contestants each year. I believe in fate and that God communicates with us. Two events in my life I can recall, one being the deathly accident that ironically saved my life and the other being this acceptance to UNC. I take my acceptance as a blessing, a blessing that Hashem is offering to me in order to show me that my life awaits in the blue mountains of Carolina, so I am taking God's test and letting my future lie on fate and destiny.For as long as I can recall, I've been practicing my businessman skills and as everything in life, taking risks day in and day out, and this decision is no different. It is with much confidence and excitement that I bring to the table all my assets that I know I will expand into a multi-billion dollar portfolio in these two years. An investment that will produce memories that are invaluable. With that all said, I'm ready to gamble, so hit me with your best shot North Carolina!
Thursday, October 15, 2009
From Spanish Beverly Hills to the Small Town Charm of Chapel Hill
It seems like yesterday that i was sitting in Professor Valiente's Principles of Marketing class, waiting for the hour marker to reach the five, and then it happened. Five o'clock came and with that my future would be changed forever. Boredom was written all over my face, then I hit the mouse right-click as hard as I could to see if I made the cut, and seconds later I had the biggest grin that extended from the tip of my nose to the forest of bushy, black silk that covered my chin. I made my decision fast and decided that I would take one of the biggest gambles of my life and give up my already developed life in order to live out my dream. As a senior in high school, I did not have the courage nor did I have the credentials needed to get into the University of North Carolina, so I did not even bother sending in an application. I chose to continue my education at another university and ended up at the University of Miami in the end.
Now, I've been here, living out my dream for only a week and it's everything and more that I visioned for the past seven years of my life. Carolina has always been the place for me, it just took me longer than others to get here, but all that matters is that I'm finally here and I can't wait to cherish every second of every day that I have in this powdered blue paradise. As of now, I'm really content with the decisions that I made within the past year. Truly, I do feel that I did hit the ground running and my adaptation to the new and highly different environment is going very smooth. At orientation, the President of SGA said something very important, the words as I remember them were "You just got to the jump on train, because there is a spot for everyone" and I have to agree that I did jump onboard and was not overly intimidated by the large campus and being the new fish in a big pond. Within just a short amount of time, I've met many different individuals and delved into a variety of student clubs and organizations.
I've really lucked out, the people are all so nice and I could not be happier with my living arrangements and roommates. I would not change them for the world. Although it might be a bit of walk from classes and the engine of campus, it is very comfortable and homely. My roommates are the nicest individuals and I truly think it is a treat to share my experience with individuals from all walks of life and parts of the world. One of my roommates is from North Carolina and he is the nicest kid in the world, really down to earth and has his head on his shoulders with his priorities in the right order. And then I have my new friend from Shenzhen, China. This experience is going to be like no other and I'm not too sure where our third roommate is, but I hope he does show up, but if he does not, a movie theater, padded room, or game room with a beer pong table will be in the works.
One of the first places I turned to after I was all settled in my new apartment was the University of North Carolina's Hillel. I've always been a fan of Hillel and UNC has even increased my level of love and appreciation for such an organization. On my second day here, I made my way over to Hillel and I truly felt like I was in a home away from. The structure is so inviting and warm with it's old southern charm. I was welcomed warm heartedly by everyone and invited to even stay for the Hillel Executive Board meeting. I was taken aback when I heard that I could stay and learn the logistics and operations of Hillel. I must've spent at least four to five hours at Hillel, getting to know each and everyone on the board and committees. I knew that I was in my element and I hope to contribute some of my talents and expertise to the already thriving organization here at UNC, during my next two years here.
The second place that I reached out to was the Omega Chapter of Alpha Epsilon Pi. At the University of Miami, I was one of the founding fathers and a full-fledge brother of the Lambda Deuteron colony. For weeks, I was deliberating about leaving my brothers and all that we had started to build, but I decided that I could not let one variable defer me from living out my dream and attaining pure happiness. I was having second thoughts still, wondering if I would be able to find another group of individuals that were as dedicated and special as my brothers. Coming into UNC, I did not know what to expect from my future brothers. However, I could not be any happier. The Omega Chapter welcomed me into their chapter with no questions asked and made me feel apart of their brotherhood. The Omega chapter is filled with a diverse groups of individuals and I hope to build strong bonds with each and everyone of my brothers at UNC. Greek life has always been a huge part of my college experience and I will continue to dedicate my time, brotherly love and talents to Alpha Epsilon Pi.
Being here for only about seven days, I can feel confident in saying that I am glad that I made the switch. The transition is running at a steady and smooth rate. However, I cannot say that there will not be days in the coming weeks when I wonder why I made my life more complicated and put so many friendships on so-called "hold". But I will not let my emotions defer me from attaining what I've set out to do here at Carolina, which is to have the best two years of my adolescence portion of my life. With that being said, I'm proud to finally be able to call myself a TarHeel.
Now, I've been here, living out my dream for only a week and it's everything and more that I visioned for the past seven years of my life. Carolina has always been the place for me, it just took me longer than others to get here, but all that matters is that I'm finally here and I can't wait to cherish every second of every day that I have in this powdered blue paradise. As of now, I'm really content with the decisions that I made within the past year. Truly, I do feel that I did hit the ground running and my adaptation to the new and highly different environment is going very smooth. At orientation, the President of SGA said something very important, the words as I remember them were "You just got to the jump on train, because there is a spot for everyone" and I have to agree that I did jump onboard and was not overly intimidated by the large campus and being the new fish in a big pond. Within just a short amount of time, I've met many different individuals and delved into a variety of student clubs and organizations.
I've really lucked out, the people are all so nice and I could not be happier with my living arrangements and roommates. I would not change them for the world. Although it might be a bit of walk from classes and the engine of campus, it is very comfortable and homely. My roommates are the nicest individuals and I truly think it is a treat to share my experience with individuals from all walks of life and parts of the world. One of my roommates is from North Carolina and he is the nicest kid in the world, really down to earth and has his head on his shoulders with his priorities in the right order. And then I have my new friend from Shenzhen, China. This experience is going to be like no other and I'm not too sure where our third roommate is, but I hope he does show up, but if he does not, a movie theater, padded room, or game room with a beer pong table will be in the works.
One of the first places I turned to after I was all settled in my new apartment was the University of North Carolina's Hillel. I've always been a fan of Hillel and UNC has even increased my level of love and appreciation for such an organization. On my second day here, I made my way over to Hillel and I truly felt like I was in a home away from. The structure is so inviting and warm with it's old southern charm. I was welcomed warm heartedly by everyone and invited to even stay for the Hillel Executive Board meeting. I was taken aback when I heard that I could stay and learn the logistics and operations of Hillel. I must've spent at least four to five hours at Hillel, getting to know each and everyone on the board and committees. I knew that I was in my element and I hope to contribute some of my talents and expertise to the already thriving organization here at UNC, during my next two years here.
The second place that I reached out to was the Omega Chapter of Alpha Epsilon Pi. At the University of Miami, I was one of the founding fathers and a full-fledge brother of the Lambda Deuteron colony. For weeks, I was deliberating about leaving my brothers and all that we had started to build, but I decided that I could not let one variable defer me from living out my dream and attaining pure happiness. I was having second thoughts still, wondering if I would be able to find another group of individuals that were as dedicated and special as my brothers. Coming into UNC, I did not know what to expect from my future brothers. However, I could not be any happier. The Omega Chapter welcomed me into their chapter with no questions asked and made me feel apart of their brotherhood. The Omega chapter is filled with a diverse groups of individuals and I hope to build strong bonds with each and everyone of my brothers at UNC. Greek life has always been a huge part of my college experience and I will continue to dedicate my time, brotherly love and talents to Alpha Epsilon Pi.
Being here for only about seven days, I can feel confident in saying that I am glad that I made the switch. The transition is running at a steady and smooth rate. However, I cannot say that there will not be days in the coming weeks when I wonder why I made my life more complicated and put so many friendships on so-called "hold". But I will not let my emotions defer me from attaining what I've set out to do here at Carolina, which is to have the best two years of my adolescence portion of my life. With that being said, I'm proud to finally be able to call myself a TarHeel.
The First Storm In Carolina
The First Storm in Carolina
"You can check in anytime you like, but you can never leave"
by: Brad Phillip Weisberg
It all started 9:00PM on Monday, September 14th, 2009. After any normal Monday, which features three courses and my daily visitation to the Undergraduate Library which can last for hours, I returned back to my apartment, hungry and debating two issues, what to eat and whether or not to go to the quiz night pledge event. I solved one problem with Totino's pizza rolls, panko shrimp, and sweet potato fries. However, I was still feeling under the weather and decided to sit out the event.
I passed out around 8:00PM and before I knew it, I found myself awake. I woke up and sat in my bed shaking profusely, while my body was burning and my mouth could of passed for DANGER ZONE. I knew that I needed medical attention but was unsure as to how I would attain that. After a few phone calls to certain family members, I was lucky enough that one called the Non-Emergency security department and by the time I knew it I was put in touch with the paramedics. Now I will not lie when I say that I was WEAK, I could not get to one point from another without losing my balance. Somehow I managed to make my way into my private bathroom. That's where the paramedics finally found me, with my head perched over the bowl. The next thing I knew, I was in a stretcher, put into an ambulance and rushed to the UNC Memorial Hospital. I was forced to wear a duck-looking face mask just for precautionary reasons with the swine flu.
Arrived at around 10:25PM or so and of course the first thing that had to be done which is of course more important than my health was paperwork. It never fails, as individuals we're just a number and another statistic for some actuary to record. Already agitated and ready to tell the UNC Hospital how I exactly feel, I decided to keep it inside and go with the flow. FINALLY! I'm done with all this nonsensical paper work, GO GET ME A DOCTOR NOW! That was not reality for me, I was taken to the waiting room. Hours went by, some more hours went by, and by the time I knew it, it was nearly 4:00AM. I was getting very impatient, my conditions were worsening and was about to teach a lesson on marketing to the clerks at the information desk. I managed to get myself out of the wheel chair and walk myself over to the desk where I demanded that my vitals be rechecked as I felt that I was about to pass out right on their hospital floor. Having put an idea in their head and to save themselves from any legal troubles, they offered me a stretcher I could rest in away from the waiting room until my bed was ready in the emergency room. 5:00AM hits and finally my name is called!
And now the emergency story adventures begin... I thought I was in an emergency room, but it sounded more like a prison. Next to me, I had Mr. WhiteBoy who managed to get into a confrontation with some people at the WaffleHouse and as a result had been shot in the elbow. Obviously not in much pain from all the morphine, he directed his efforts into scoring with the nurses, and stupid me only thought that happened in adult films. To the left of me, I had tobacco Joe who had one of those creative voice thingys. His reason for hospitalization was none other than being stabbed by his wife or ex-girlfriend, I cannot remember. The neighboring beds began circulating over and over again. From kidney stones to pregnant women to obnoxious older people who thought the emergency room would be the perfect place to have an argument about money and gambling. Please just get me the hell out of this sespool and into my own, private room. While in the emergency room which was a total of 15 hours or so, I was stabbed numerous times, had foreign objects go up my nose way up into my nasal cavity, people making me gag, and last but not least forced to spit up mucus from my stomach. Luckily to distract me from all of these events, my fraternity brother Boral surprised me and brought his BB charger so I could charge my now-dead Blackberry Bold.
Finally at around 8:30PM, I was made aware that my room was ready and it was time to leave this room of problems. Still, the doctors were puzzled by my unknown diagnosis and I was even more frustrated that they wanted to perform more test. I arrived at my unit and flung myself into the bed, put my head under the covers and said goodnight to the world. By the time I knew it, i was awaken by the nurse who claimed she needed to take blood cultures at the doctor's request. Fine, have fun putting another needle in my arm, you nice nurse. It seemed as every hour passed, a different doctor or someone who worked for the hospital managed to make their way into my room to offer their expertise on my unknown case or help assist me with any problems such as getting in touch with my professors. It was already Wednesday and after numerous tests and two x-rays, I was still not diagnosed with any medical ailment, which worried me. What would any survivor's first thought be? Yep, "I wonder if it's some rare form of cancer". I mean I am at a higher risk than anyone else. However thankfully that was not the case. One thing they sure fixed was my bladder, with their bag after bag of Sodium Chloride fluid. My urine was clearer than a VSI diamond, I wonder if I could sell it? Alright, I'm fed up. I just want to go to sleep. I have no vision, no phone, I'm out of resources. Wait? How about straining your eyes for a little? Sounds like a great idea. I finished my night off by squinting through a few movies and episodes of various television shows.
Wow, it's already Thursday. I've been here for almost four days and they still do not know what the hell is wrong with me. I woke up to a female figure sitting in a chair, only to discover it was one of my friends after putting on my glasses that must've magically appeared overnight. Nope, my friend brought them along with my Blackberry charger. Yay! Now I can at least sit on BBM all day, answering the numerous missed BBMs from the past day and a half. I forgot to mention that at this point, my flu test came back negative, my mono test came back negative, my strep throat test came back negative, and a small area of gray was found in my lungs, which meant I had a very small case of pneumonia but nothing that amounted for the very low blood pressure and striking fevers that I had been battling for the past few days. Now are you ready for this one, "We think you may have toxic shock syndrome". Excuse me? Turns out that was a negative too. By this time, I'm extremely agitated, sickened to the stomach by the pieces of crap that they offer to me that they called food, and ready to rip the I.V. out of my arm and escape from this place. I'm feeling better, maybe not 100%, but well enough that I do not need to be forced to keep urinating the clearest liquids at an hourly rate or get poked at 6AM every morning for "blood cultures". I'm on the phone with my parents hour after hour, transgressing my anger onto them and putting the courage into them to call the doctors and demand reasons for my hostage status. We'll my pep talk worked and an hour later, the doctor came in telling me as long as I can keep my fever down and force myself to eat/ drink, then I will be discharge tomorrow, in time for Rosh Hashana. YES! The day is getting better already. The next thing I know it is, my fraternity brothers are visiting, even better. The day has improved so much and I just want to close my eyes and for it to be Friday.
TGIF! It's Friday, YES! Hours away from getting out of this place and back into the normal world of an almost twenty-one year old college student. The I.V. is out of my arm, the fluids are no longer pumping, and the only thing holding me back is the official announcement from the doctors and the papers/ prescriptions. At around 3:00PM, it was time to say goodbye to the nurses and doctors at UNC Hospital. I was on my way home. JZ picked me up, thank god for nice people! It takes a bit getting used to having such nice friends after being brought up in an area as rich and cold as Boca. But wait! I'm back in my apartment and only to discover that I need to get my prescriptions filled. CRAP! Panic time, time to call the mother and father and get their suggestions. Wait, I know, I'll ask my friend to drive me over to a local pharmacy. After driving over to Rite-Aid, it was only minutes before I discovered that they did not have my prescriptions and I would have to get back to the hospital. I had Matt drop me off and told him I would walk back to campus. Hospitals just frustrate me to a point that I did not think was humanly possible. Sitting there for an hour while the pharmacist was joking around with his co-workers, handling other orders when there were other pharmacists to take care of them and talking to his dog's grommer on his cell phone, it took forever for me to get my drugs. Finally, time to rush back and get dressed for Rosh Hashana.
Being hospitalized in a foreign hospital and by foreign doctors was an experience that I will never forget. This experience like every experience made me a stronger person. I never had to face medical problems on my own, I've always had my mother or father by my side. After being sick for six months of junior year, which was spent mostly at the children's hospital, I became fixated on having my parent's and siblings by my side, twenty-four hours a day. It was a challenge for me to be all alone in a hospital room without the humor of my father, love and care of my mother, and affection from my siblings. At times I felt myself defeated, regressing back to old habits, such as hiding under the covers. However, I realized that I am no longer a seventeen year old teenager, I'm almost a grown man as scary as that may sound for me. My mother and father are not going to be here forever, I'm going to have to be able to get through these challenges on my own. I just have to know that they're always with me, even if not in a physical structure, there always and will always be in my heart. Another challenge that I had to face was the realization that I'm only a number. I'm one of six million insignificant figure. At my hospital at home, or perhaps because I was facing a life threatening disease, I was of main priority. I would walk into the emergency room and be directed to a room within seconds. Having to sit for nearly four or five hours in a waiting room and another fifteen hours in an emergency room was very hard for me, I just wanted to ride this storm on my own boat, not a cruise ship. As a result of being detached from the world from five days, I now appreciate things more. Although this may sound quite dick, I did not fully appreciate my friendships. I actually questioned some and was put to the test this past week. After receiving email after email, text message after text message, and phone call after phone call, I began to realize that although at times it may seem like your friends are not "good friends" and do what's best for them, that they only want the best for you and are there at times of hardship which displays a stronger bond than being there for only victories if you ask me. During my junior year, I learned real fast who was playing me and who only wanted to see me survive and continue living my life. And this experience has once again reinforced those principles of friendship.
All in all, this past week has been one of mixed emotions. My first medical experience at North Carolina was one of sadness, happiness, and confusion. Being alone in a situation like this for the first time made me realize a lot, such as although people are far away and contact might be iffy with them, they're there for the times that matter and that proves companionship more than being only there for times of glory. Although I hope to never contract an illness again, I know that becoming sick is inevitable and now that I have managed to grow into an even more stronger person, I believe that my next medical experience at UNC or another place will be a more pleasant outcome.
"You can check in anytime you like, but you can never leave"
by: Brad Phillip Weisberg
It all started 9:00PM on Monday, September 14th, 2009. After any normal Monday, which features three courses and my daily visitation to the Undergraduate Library which can last for hours, I returned back to my apartment, hungry and debating two issues, what to eat and whether or not to go to the quiz night pledge event. I solved one problem with Totino's pizza rolls, panko shrimp, and sweet potato fries. However, I was still feeling under the weather and decided to sit out the event.
I passed out around 8:00PM and before I knew it, I found myself awake. I woke up and sat in my bed shaking profusely, while my body was burning and my mouth could of passed for DANGER ZONE. I knew that I needed medical attention but was unsure as to how I would attain that. After a few phone calls to certain family members, I was lucky enough that one called the Non-Emergency security department and by the time I knew it I was put in touch with the paramedics. Now I will not lie when I say that I was WEAK, I could not get to one point from another without losing my balance. Somehow I managed to make my way into my private bathroom. That's where the paramedics finally found me, with my head perched over the bowl. The next thing I knew, I was in a stretcher, put into an ambulance and rushed to the UNC Memorial Hospital. I was forced to wear a duck-looking face mask just for precautionary reasons with the swine flu.
Arrived at around 10:25PM or so and of course the first thing that had to be done which is of course more important than my health was paperwork. It never fails, as individuals we're just a number and another statistic for some actuary to record. Already agitated and ready to tell the UNC Hospital how I exactly feel, I decided to keep it inside and go with the flow. FINALLY! I'm done with all this nonsensical paper work, GO GET ME A DOCTOR NOW! That was not reality for me, I was taken to the waiting room. Hours went by, some more hours went by, and by the time I knew it, it was nearly 4:00AM. I was getting very impatient, my conditions were worsening and was about to teach a lesson on marketing to the clerks at the information desk. I managed to get myself out of the wheel chair and walk myself over to the desk where I demanded that my vitals be rechecked as I felt that I was about to pass out right on their hospital floor. Having put an idea in their head and to save themselves from any legal troubles, they offered me a stretcher I could rest in away from the waiting room until my bed was ready in the emergency room. 5:00AM hits and finally my name is called!
And now the emergency story adventures begin... I thought I was in an emergency room, but it sounded more like a prison. Next to me, I had Mr. WhiteBoy who managed to get into a confrontation with some people at the WaffleHouse and as a result had been shot in the elbow. Obviously not in much pain from all the morphine, he directed his efforts into scoring with the nurses, and stupid me only thought that happened in adult films. To the left of me, I had tobacco Joe who had one of those creative voice thingys. His reason for hospitalization was none other than being stabbed by his wife or ex-girlfriend, I cannot remember. The neighboring beds began circulating over and over again. From kidney stones to pregnant women to obnoxious older people who thought the emergency room would be the perfect place to have an argument about money and gambling. Please just get me the hell out of this sespool and into my own, private room. While in the emergency room which was a total of 15 hours or so, I was stabbed numerous times, had foreign objects go up my nose way up into my nasal cavity, people making me gag, and last but not least forced to spit up mucus from my stomach. Luckily to distract me from all of these events, my fraternity brother Boral surprised me and brought his BB charger so I could charge my now-dead Blackberry Bold.
Finally at around 8:30PM, I was made aware that my room was ready and it was time to leave this room of problems. Still, the doctors were puzzled by my unknown diagnosis and I was even more frustrated that they wanted to perform more test. I arrived at my unit and flung myself into the bed, put my head under the covers and said goodnight to the world. By the time I knew it, i was awaken by the nurse who claimed she needed to take blood cultures at the doctor's request. Fine, have fun putting another needle in my arm, you nice nurse. It seemed as every hour passed, a different doctor or someone who worked for the hospital managed to make their way into my room to offer their expertise on my unknown case or help assist me with any problems such as getting in touch with my professors. It was already Wednesday and after numerous tests and two x-rays, I was still not diagnosed with any medical ailment, which worried me. What would any survivor's first thought be? Yep, "I wonder if it's some rare form of cancer". I mean I am at a higher risk than anyone else. However thankfully that was not the case. One thing they sure fixed was my bladder, with their bag after bag of Sodium Chloride fluid. My urine was clearer than a VSI diamond, I wonder if I could sell it? Alright, I'm fed up. I just want to go to sleep. I have no vision, no phone, I'm out of resources. Wait? How about straining your eyes for a little? Sounds like a great idea. I finished my night off by squinting through a few movies and episodes of various television shows.
Wow, it's already Thursday. I've been here for almost four days and they still do not know what the hell is wrong with me. I woke up to a female figure sitting in a chair, only to discover it was one of my friends after putting on my glasses that must've magically appeared overnight. Nope, my friend brought them along with my Blackberry charger. Yay! Now I can at least sit on BBM all day, answering the numerous missed BBMs from the past day and a half. I forgot to mention that at this point, my flu test came back negative, my mono test came back negative, my strep throat test came back negative, and a small area of gray was found in my lungs, which meant I had a very small case of pneumonia but nothing that amounted for the very low blood pressure and striking fevers that I had been battling for the past few days. Now are you ready for this one, "We think you may have toxic shock syndrome". Excuse me? Turns out that was a negative too. By this time, I'm extremely agitated, sickened to the stomach by the pieces of crap that they offer to me that they called food, and ready to rip the I.V. out of my arm and escape from this place. I'm feeling better, maybe not 100%, but well enough that I do not need to be forced to keep urinating the clearest liquids at an hourly rate or get poked at 6AM every morning for "blood cultures". I'm on the phone with my parents hour after hour, transgressing my anger onto them and putting the courage into them to call the doctors and demand reasons for my hostage status. We'll my pep talk worked and an hour later, the doctor came in telling me as long as I can keep my fever down and force myself to eat/ drink, then I will be discharge tomorrow, in time for Rosh Hashana. YES! The day is getting better already. The next thing I know it is, my fraternity brothers are visiting, even better. The day has improved so much and I just want to close my eyes and for it to be Friday.
TGIF! It's Friday, YES! Hours away from getting out of this place and back into the normal world of an almost twenty-one year old college student. The I.V. is out of my arm, the fluids are no longer pumping, and the only thing holding me back is the official announcement from the doctors and the papers/ prescriptions. At around 3:00PM, it was time to say goodbye to the nurses and doctors at UNC Hospital. I was on my way home. JZ picked me up, thank god for nice people! It takes a bit getting used to having such nice friends after being brought up in an area as rich and cold as Boca. But wait! I'm back in my apartment and only to discover that I need to get my prescriptions filled. CRAP! Panic time, time to call the mother and father and get their suggestions. Wait, I know, I'll ask my friend to drive me over to a local pharmacy. After driving over to Rite-Aid, it was only minutes before I discovered that they did not have my prescriptions and I would have to get back to the hospital. I had Matt drop me off and told him I would walk back to campus. Hospitals just frustrate me to a point that I did not think was humanly possible. Sitting there for an hour while the pharmacist was joking around with his co-workers, handling other orders when there were other pharmacists to take care of them and talking to his dog's grommer on his cell phone, it took forever for me to get my drugs. Finally, time to rush back and get dressed for Rosh Hashana.
Being hospitalized in a foreign hospital and by foreign doctors was an experience that I will never forget. This experience like every experience made me a stronger person. I never had to face medical problems on my own, I've always had my mother or father by my side. After being sick for six months of junior year, which was spent mostly at the children's hospital, I became fixated on having my parent's and siblings by my side, twenty-four hours a day. It was a challenge for me to be all alone in a hospital room without the humor of my father, love and care of my mother, and affection from my siblings. At times I felt myself defeated, regressing back to old habits, such as hiding under the covers. However, I realized that I am no longer a seventeen year old teenager, I'm almost a grown man as scary as that may sound for me. My mother and father are not going to be here forever, I'm going to have to be able to get through these challenges on my own. I just have to know that they're always with me, even if not in a physical structure, there always and will always be in my heart. Another challenge that I had to face was the realization that I'm only a number. I'm one of six million insignificant figure. At my hospital at home, or perhaps because I was facing a life threatening disease, I was of main priority. I would walk into the emergency room and be directed to a room within seconds. Having to sit for nearly four or five hours in a waiting room and another fifteen hours in an emergency room was very hard for me, I just wanted to ride this storm on my own boat, not a cruise ship. As a result of being detached from the world from five days, I now appreciate things more. Although this may sound quite dick, I did not fully appreciate my friendships. I actually questioned some and was put to the test this past week. After receiving email after email, text message after text message, and phone call after phone call, I began to realize that although at times it may seem like your friends are not "good friends" and do what's best for them, that they only want the best for you and are there at times of hardship which displays a stronger bond than being there for only victories if you ask me. During my junior year, I learned real fast who was playing me and who only wanted to see me survive and continue living my life. And this experience has once again reinforced those principles of friendship.
All in all, this past week has been one of mixed emotions. My first medical experience at North Carolina was one of sadness, happiness, and confusion. Being alone in a situation like this for the first time made me realize a lot, such as although people are far away and contact might be iffy with them, they're there for the times that matter and that proves companionship more than being only there for times of glory. Although I hope to never contract an illness again, I know that becoming sick is inevitable and now that I have managed to grow into an even more stronger person, I believe that my next medical experience at UNC or another place will be a more pleasant outcome.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
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.
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