Our last month of our senior year in high school is coming up. There is still so much work to be done. When I walk around campus, I hear a lot of seniors say they are just going to "wing" these last few days. I also use to say that I was going to "wing" everything. "Winging it" means to improvise and do something without the proper preparation for it. But I learned that I was not actually "winging" anything, until this second semester of my senior year.
When I first started my senior year, I notice that I only had three classes: Gov/Econ, AP English 12, and calculus. I told myself that this year was going to be a piece of cake because I do not have to do that much work. In order to succeed, I thought setting a few goals for myself would do the trick. The goals were to always stay on track with my work, never miss any days of school, and always sit in the front. I always kept these goals in back of my head. I told myself that I would surely survive senior year and possibly get straight A's with the help of my goals.
I stuck with my goals all throughout the first quarter of the year. I had two A's and one B. Not bad. I did not have to do that much work. All I had to do was wake up on time and really focus in class. The only thing that was sort of a bugging me was I didn't talk to my friends at all that whole quarter. So I said I will do the same thing until the end of the first semester, but this time I wanted to chit-chat.
Towards the end, I was sort of struggling. I was talking to my friends in class and was tardy a lot for my first hour, which resulted in not knowing what my assignments were at the time. Apparently, I had a few assignments missing in some of my classes. It was not a lot of missing work. So I turned in most of it at the end of the semester and really tried on my tests. My grade calculated to an A, a B, and a C. Not that much changed about my grades I thought. I was not sad or mad about them. I was just relieved that the first semester had passed!!
Our last semester had started. I felt like I could just "relax" and not pay attention this semester because it was my last one. Out of nowhere, Mr. Nielson called me into his office. He told me that I missed my first hour class a lot towards the end of the last semester and I lost some credit for it. He also said it was easy to fix. All I had to do was be absent free throughout the third quarter and I get my credit back. I was scared because I thought I wasn't going to graduate, so I listened to him. I was here on time, but I didn't really pay attention in my classes. I started "winging" my tests. At the end I got my credit back and had an A, a B, and a C.
Finally, our last quarter started. I thought I could do the same thing and not pay attention. It worked for about a month then things started getting tough. I had a lot of assignments coming at me. I did not want to do them because I was so used to just relaxing and being lazy. I had two options: do my work and get less sleep, or not do my work and get a lot of sleep. Knowing what I've been doing, I chose option two. Bad choice. I was sleeping in and doing less work than usual.
At this point, I'm barely hanging on by a thread. I regret ever "winging it". I have grades that I know could have been better. I have to get motivation from Mr. Phaturos all the time now. I'm just really hoping for the best.
Sunday, April 24, 2016
Sunday, April 17, 2016
Growing Up With A Killer
A serial killer is a person who murders three or more people. Ed Gein was a serial killer whose urges lead him to kill. Every individual has experienced the feeling of an urge, whether it is squeezing the detergent out of those squishy Tide pods, or screaming out loud in a quiet library. Ed Gein was not the only serial killer who was lead by urges. Throughout history, there has been many excuses by killers that lead them to kill.
The most common killers were raised up with a bad background in their early childhood. These backgrounds are similar to child abuse. The scary thing about this type of killer is that anyone could be called one from this view. For me, I've actually known a killer. Scary, but he wasn't scary at the time.
I was in kindergarten living in Phoenix, AZ, next to a little boy who was two years older than me. His full name was Antonio Cruz, but I use to call him Tony for short. No one really like him. I remember at school, everyone was scared of him because he use to always get into fights, so he only had one friend. I use to be scared of him until one day my mom forgot to pick me up so I walked back to my house which was a block away. I was scared because there were a lot of people walking around, but Tony walked back with me, so I wasn't really freaking out. Since then, we became walking buddies.
After schools were awesome. I use to quickly do my work then play outside with Tony. We'd go to this little park by our house every day. But there was always an odd feeling around him like he was sad or something. I also noticed bruises. But I never said anything. I don't think I had ever saw him without any marks at all. I didn't think much of it until one day when I asked him about them. All he said was that he always gets in fights with his older brother. I knew he felt kind of weird about the subject, so I didn't ask about it anymore after that. My mom saw his bruises, but she knew how he use to fight other boys at school. I always wondered why she still let me hangout with him.
One day, I saw him crying outside after school, but my mom told me to leave him alone. I remember telling my mom if we could buy him something, so that night we went to Walmart and got him some Lego toy. When we were heading back we noticed there were cop cars outside their house. My mom asked the cops what happened and they told her that Tony stabbed his two older brothers and his parents because he was getting abused. I've never saw Tony again. Not even that night. It's so weird how it all happened. Everything changed so fast after that. We moved back to the rez and my mom became involved in our social lives.
I still can't believe that I was friends with a killer. I always wonder where he is to this day. I try to research him but nothing comes up. Whenever I told people, they always thought I was lying. This isn't the first time I'm writing about Tony. This is probably like my tenth time I think. It takes a lot to make someone do crazy things. Now that I understand, it makes me sad that he was getting abused by his family. No wonder why, he spent most of his days outside. No child should think that killing is their only way out.
The most common killers were raised up with a bad background in their early childhood. These backgrounds are similar to child abuse. The scary thing about this type of killer is that anyone could be called one from this view. For me, I've actually known a killer. Scary, but he wasn't scary at the time.
I was in kindergarten living in Phoenix, AZ, next to a little boy who was two years older than me. His full name was Antonio Cruz, but I use to call him Tony for short. No one really like him. I remember at school, everyone was scared of him because he use to always get into fights, so he only had one friend. I use to be scared of him until one day my mom forgot to pick me up so I walked back to my house which was a block away. I was scared because there were a lot of people walking around, but Tony walked back with me, so I wasn't really freaking out. Since then, we became walking buddies.
After schools were awesome. I use to quickly do my work then play outside with Tony. We'd go to this little park by our house every day. But there was always an odd feeling around him like he was sad or something. I also noticed bruises. But I never said anything. I don't think I had ever saw him without any marks at all. I didn't think much of it until one day when I asked him about them. All he said was that he always gets in fights with his older brother. I knew he felt kind of weird about the subject, so I didn't ask about it anymore after that. My mom saw his bruises, but she knew how he use to fight other boys at school. I always wondered why she still let me hangout with him.
One day, I saw him crying outside after school, but my mom told me to leave him alone. I remember telling my mom if we could buy him something, so that night we went to Walmart and got him some Lego toy. When we were heading back we noticed there were cop cars outside their house. My mom asked the cops what happened and they told her that Tony stabbed his two older brothers and his parents because he was getting abused. I've never saw Tony again. Not even that night. It's so weird how it all happened. Everything changed so fast after that. We moved back to the rez and my mom became involved in our social lives.
I still can't believe that I was friends with a killer. I always wonder where he is to this day. I try to research him but nothing comes up. Whenever I told people, they always thought I was lying. This isn't the first time I'm writing about Tony. This is probably like my tenth time I think. It takes a lot to make someone do crazy things. Now that I understand, it makes me sad that he was getting abused by his family. No wonder why, he spent most of his days outside. No child should think that killing is their only way out.
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