Mumzie School

Summer was the best time of the year. You could sleep in, it was warm, the sun was always shining, and you had no school work. Well, except for me. My mom is an amazing second grade teacher and has taught various elementary grades through her career in teaching. Therefor it only made sense for me and my sisters to have a designated time each day for "school" my mom called it. She had work books, project, and books for us to read. I honestly can say I absolutely hated it and fought my mom everyday about it. But looking back, yes it was awful and just morally wrong, but I learned many important things from that hour designated to my Mumzie School. Reading was never my strong suit and we practiced reading comprehension. I learned all about how to read and re read difficult information and to this day still preform these techniques.

As I start to read, I can figure out whether or not the reading is going to be hard to understand. If I come across a sentence that didn't click, I re read it and stop to think about what it is saying. When I am finished with the passage I go back and read it again. This process sounds long and boring and trust me it is, but in the long run you will be able to do this without even thinking about it. As I kid in my summer Mumzie school, I never thought I would be thanking my mom for taking that one hour each day of summer away from me, but today is the day I do. I do appreciate her amazing effort in helping me succeed in learning important tasks that still apply to me today. Thanks Mom!

-Maddie Rzeppa

Strange Way of Life

Working in retail, and providing a service for someone as being a makeup artist really gets me interested in how people interact with others and there unique habits. From the way people expect you to act and seeing how people behave that are from different walks of like is very interesting to me. The title, The Yong, the Rich, and the Famous: Individualism as an American Cultural Value sucked me in immediately, and little did I know it was one of the longest stories.

I am the type of person who enjoys being different from everyone else, just being able to show the world who I am is a big part of my life. While I was in high school I wasn't afraid to be myself like so many others are and I do think that this is an American cultural outlook on what high school should be. We are shown through books, movies, and real life scenarios that there is a specific vision of what high school is like. At that age teens are already in the stage where they can't find there identity and our culture throws this perceived picture of how you should act in high school.

Friends of mine that went to high school in different countries didn't seem to have the same outlook on high school as I had. For example, everyone is friends with each other, they all go hang out at a specific café or park were they all bond together. There isn't as much judging and everyone is accepting. Having this persona of who you must be in high school and which click you fit in is so childish. No one can man up and be different because they are all afraid of being rejected by the image of perfection.

-Maddie Rzeppa

Behind the Blank Stare

Tears of joy, sorrow, or angry. Feelings of hurt, happiness or pain. I have always found that showing to much emotion was a sign of weakness. I never wanted to be that girl that cried in ever sappy movie, or bursted in tears when her best friend called her a degrading name. That was never me and still to this day isn't me. Sure, I show emotions when there is a realistic reason, but I find it slightly pathetic that people can't hold themselves together. It shows a sign of strength to me that you won't crumble when the going gets tough and that's the way I control my emotions.

I have been thinking greatly about emotions lately, with all the change going on in my life and have found that I don't like to think about it. It is a way of building up a wall because I am afraid to get hurt. I am afraid that if I show a slight glimpse of my feelings that someone will take them right from under me. Emotions make up the most delicate part of a human and can me damaged so easily, that is it really worth even showing? I ask myself this through each conversation, text, and interaction, hoping that I will not give away something that I will later regret. Going with the flow has always been my way of dealing with the feelings I have towards something and it has always worked well for me. Until I needed to grow up.

When times get rough and I feel hurt I push my emotions and feelings so deep inside in order to get rid of the sorrow that when I need them I can't find them. I sit here and think about what I want and how I feel about this situation. And all I can say is I don't know. A defense mechanism that needs to be broken is the strongest wall of all. Unbreakable to outsiders, and the lucky ones can barley brake little pieces away. The fear of getting betrayed or hurt by someone gets in the way for expressing my true views and is stopping me from listening to not only my head but my heart. As I have grown I have seen a side of people where to show your feelings it doesn't have to be through tears, but soft spoken gentle words. Or even nothing at all. I have seen a side of sharing emotions that is a strength and not a weakness, I admire these people so much. There bravery and courage inspires me as well as there dry eyes as they recite sentences that come straight from the heart.

-Maddie

Revising My Brains Out

Through my years of education, I have finally found the best way for me to revise and edit my papers. I first type everything I have to say about my topic, them I delete and edit out different sentences or ideas that don't relate to my topic. After that I create my rough draft from that information. I left that rough draft sit for a few days then revisit my paper with a fresh look on it to start to revise. I read over the paper first, and then dissect each paragraph separately. I go through and edit and then when I think it is pretty good I read it out loud to myself, then usually edit again. I continue this process throughout the entire paper until I am finished. Then I go through and read the whole paper through twice out loud to insure it all flows together. When I am all done if have someone else read my paper. Most of the time its my parents, and they give me good tips and help me correct different mistakes. My then I feel like I have done everything possible, I save and print out my work. I feel like as long as I am proud of the work I have produced and gave it my all then I have written a pretty good essay.
-Maddie Rzeppa

I scream, you scream, we all scream for ICE CREAM

Mint Snowball, this immediately made me hungry for my favorite mint chocolate chip ice cream. And know typing this blog post I have a bowl of mint chocolate chip sitting right next to me. Food is has a magical way of bringing memories from the past and flashing them through your mind. Like the story this boys grandfather made a special treat that brings his mother back to her days of being a child. For me, ice cream is a special treat that relates back to my childhood. Most kids love this delicious cold treat and my Nana and I would always have a scoop when were got back from the pool. My Nanas favorite flavor was vanilla ice cream with chocolate chips in it. Being filled with chlorine, this ice cream made my taste buds sing. After we would eat the ice cream we would change out of our bathing suits and snuggle up by the TV. We usually would watch a Disney movie that I would pick out. Then I would lay on the couch and sing each song until I fell asleep. To this day whenever I eat Chocolate chip ice cream all I can think of, those moments I shared with my Nana.
-Maddie Rzeppa

So Many Choices...

I have spent an hour racking my brain, trying to figure out a topic for my Narrative paper. The struggle for me is trying to choice something that happened before I was twelve. Honestly, I don't remember a lot from those years especially something that has a lot of meaning to me. Sure I have multiple stories over the age of twelve but I needed to pick one that really made a difference in my life. I decided to ask my parents to see if they had any ideas, and still nothing was sparking my interest. Then it hit me. One of the most life changing moments in my life was the day I got diagnosed with Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis. Sure the diagnoses was hard but there was a specific moment in the elevator that changed my view on the world. This was the perfect thing to write about. I had emotional connection to this story and it is something that I still think about today. It was a magical life changing moment that I will never forget.
-Maddie Rzeppa

Me Talk Pretty One Day

The essay I read this week was called Me Talk Pretty One Day. This essay sparked my interest because I took French for three years. Even though I spent those years attempting to learn French, the only words I remember are the words for grapefruit, computer, and calculator. These words were the most fun to say. As I was reading this story I thought of one of my friends, who moved here from France in 8th grade. She new little English and often forgot the words for things. She lacked confidence in her self because of the language barrier, but I always admired for her attempt to taking on the new life style. Now you would never know that she was from another country. Recently I made another friend who is a few years older than me and he just moved here from Poland five months ago. I see him struggle with trying to understand what other people are saying as well as trying to figure out how to say something. I could never imagine being in that position and of self conscious I would become. I can barley speak my own language I don't see how jumping into another country could be easy at all. I admire these people greatly and there courage blows my mind.
-Maddie Rzeppa

Started with Rain and Ended with Rain

Rainy days always make me think of one thing...comfy clothes. If I could I would wear sweatpants and a black V-neck everyday of the week. Unfortunately for me and most of the population wearing that each day is not only socially unacceptable, but would also be detrimental to my job. Being a makeup artist at a small makeup boutique my appearance is very important. When I woke up this morning and looked out my window, all I saw was black clouds and thunderous rain. As I followed a rain drop pouring down my window a flash of lighting lit up the sky and BOOM. Going out on a whim I decided to wear comfy clothes. I effortlessly threw up my hair in a ponytail, and put some of my favorite shimmery bronzer on. Putting on my sweatpants was like sliding into a warm fuzzy blanket and I ran into my closet to grab my new hipster tennis shoes. They are not athletic shoes, but just really cute high tops. Sitting in my Earth Science lecture was like relaxing at home, I found that wearing comfy clothes are the way to go and I never wanted to go back to jeans and a cute top. Class was over and I was still loving life, I was walking back to my car when a throbbing pain caught my attention. The back of my heel was killing me. The walk back to my car was the longest walk of my life and I honestly didn't think I was going to make it. I unlocked my car door and sat down and grabbed my left shoe. Oblivious to the possible situation I pulled my shoe off. As I pulled I felt a sharp rib and I new I was going to see a gnarly blister. I prepared myself for the worst and looked at my heel. I had a ripped blister the size of two quarters with a lovely piece of skin hanging off. Trying not to totally freak out I took a breath and realized that comfy clothes aren't everything they seem. Looking out the car window it started to rain. Perfect.

-Maddie Rzeppa