Just my Persuasive Essay

I haven't wrote on this blog in over a year. I'm posting my lame persuasive essay in attempt to get back in the swing of things.

Why the Driving Age Must Stay at 16

            If you’re like most Americans, you probably still remember the day you received your very first driver’s license. And who wouldn’t? Driving around with your best friends while blasting your favorite songs on the radio makes you feel invincible. Earning your license is the first major step into adulthood. Something as essential to everyday living as driving is a privilege necessary for sixteen-year-olds.

There are some people, however, who like to point a finger at all teenage drivers and blame their immaturity for vehicle accident fatalities. Such a claim is outrageously unfair to the percentage of sixteen and seventeen-year-olds whose maturity far surpasses the expectations of someone their age. I’m sure that we have all met some teenager before who acts more like a thirty-year-old than your actually thirty-something-year-old friends. On the other hand, there are plenty of “adults” out there whose sophistication is more like that of a middle schooler. But this factor never comes into play when said immature adult goes to renew their license on their twenty-first or twenty-fifth birthdays. So how can we possibly deny teenagers their driving privilege based on their assumed maturation, when we cannot even prove that all our older drivers also contain that same level of responsibility?

 Learning to drive a two ton metal death machine would be scary at any age. Practice makes perfect and sometimes learning the hard way is actually the best way. Sure, sixteen-year-olds have the highest rates of teenage passenger deaths per licensed driver and per mile driven (Institute for Highway Safety). But driving around town with a large yellow sign indicating that you are a first timer, and a professional driving instructor in the passenger seat with his foot always right next to the back-up brake could never possibly prepare you for every situation you will meet on the road. According to Forbes.com, the average driver will file a claim for a collision about once every 17.9 years, and there are about ten million accidents in the U.S every year. Hold for the good news. The National Safety Council has done the research to prove that in 2009, just three of every one thousand accidents involved fatalities. So what can we take from this? Car accidents are completely unavoidable. Just think about all the people close to you who have been in a collision in the last five years. But we can also learn from this that very, very few car accidents actually claim a life. Thus, it is quite unwarranted for us to strip teens of their ability to drive in an attempt to stop something as inescapable as car accidents.

            In addition to the obvious complainants (teenagers who would have to wait an extra two or more years to earn their driver’s license), parents feel pretty strongly about this matter. “In an era where free time is a commodity, parents just don’t have the option of driving their children around. Until the state gets a viable mass transit system, that issue won’t go away.” Here, the author of the editorial, Driving Age Should Stay at 16, published in a February issue of the Northern Star, makes a convincing argument that most parents just don’t have the time of day to haul their teenagers around when they have their own commitments to take care of. Responsibilities such as their jobs, housework, grocery shopping, and paying the family’s bills all require a lot of time and effort, leaving these busy and fatigued parents little to no time to cart their teenagers to school, sporting events, and their part-time jobs. Raising the legal driving age to eighteen would rob not only teenagers, but also their parents of their freedom.

            Earning your driver’s license is something that most of us are eventually going to do just because it is absolutely essential to our everyday lives. It is unfair and unreasonable to assume that all teenagers are too irresponsible to take on a task as serious as driving a car. And while many teenagers are involved in car accidents, so are plenty of adults. Sometimes lessons just have to be learned the hard way. When parents and teens are as busy as they are nowadays with school, work, and everything in between, it is irrational to assume that parents have the time of day to haul their kids around another two years. It is only sensible for the legal driving age to remain at sixteen.

I'd Do Anything

The worst kind of problem is the one with no solution. A never ending numbness that completely takes over. Most days I don't know who I am, what I'm doing, or what's my purpose. I only set goals I can't achieve. And the only reason I can't achieve them is because I can't get myself to move. It seems like everything is so unattainable that it's just better to not even try.

I'd do anything to hit the reset button. I feel my life wasting away, but I feel like it's too late to fix it. But hopelessly and mindlessly, I keep marching on... 

Letting Go

I’ll never forget the decision I was recently faced with. I had to choose between the sport that I loved, and a new beginning. After a couple years of playing mediocre HORSE games in the driveway with my dad and sister, I decided I loved basketball enough to play for Sycamore’s youth league. I played for three years before I started travel ball with Sycamore Fury. Although I experienced my first disappointment with the sport in seventh grade, when I was tossed back and forth between the A and B teams, I thought nothing could ever douse the passion in my soul for the game of basketball. Freshman year was my best year yet. I went from dominating eighth grade B team games to the starting lineup of the A team. Sophomore year was good too, as I held my position as starting center.

                During summer league before junior year, I, to my surprise, received tons of playing time. I didn’t think I wouldn’t play at all, but I had certainly anticipated a drop in playing time, considering I was now playing at the varsity level. But I received a real smack in the face when the actual season came. In the first game, I didn’t leave the bench until there was three minutes left, and we were winning by almost thirty points. The next game, I racked up a whopping minute and thirty four seconds of playing time. And the next game? I never even played. I knew I was no superstar at the game of basketball, but I also knew I didn’t deserve to be treated like the Brian Scalabrine of the Sycamore Girl’s Varsity Team.

                I think I had made my mind up about not playing the next year as I sat glued to the bench at the Convo Center for the much anticipated DeKalb Sycamore double header. And if that wasn’t enough to convince me, the stat sheet I received at the end of the season, stating that I had only played in twelve of the twenty-nine games certainly was. There were so many people I was afraid of letting down. Basketball was all my dad and I ever talked about. How could I just stop playing? After a full blown yelling match with him when I was upset about receiving no playing time for one of the few games he was able to see, he gave me the best advice anyone could have. “You have to understand it’s just a game, and there are more important things in life.”

                I began to think of all the things basketball was keeping me from accomplishing. I could use my recently freed time to do the important things. So I decided to do what was best for me. I cut loose my ties to the coach I had grown to hate, and the game that meant the world to me. I believe in letting go of what no longer serves you, in hope of starting over again.

Who's Gonna Save Us

Fall came and went so quick this year.
Summer fell right into winter without a warning.
I know I need to make my move soon,
In less than a year you'll be gone.
I don't want you to be another one who got away.

I talk myself up,
Then I think my way down.
I look at the only girl you've ever had,
and I know I could never compare.

But she treated you like dirt,
always put your heart on the line.
I just want you to know,
that is something I could never do.

Somewhere along the way,
all my friends gave up on me.
They were tired of my constant chasing,
and never actually making anything happen.

But for some reason beyond me,
They are all giving you a chance.
Saying they can picture us together,
And supporting everything I say.

So I need to think on my feet,
and act as fast as I can.
But time is running out
For me to make you my man.

You're Gonna Hear Me Roar.

It's hard to pursue your wildest dreams, when everyone is telling you you'll never get there. I want to go to Duke University, study business, become friends with the basketball players, use my degree to start my own wedding planning business, move to New York City, and someday, meet him, and he will love me as much as I love him. I think we all have similar dreams. Go to a grand college, get your dream job, move to what you believe is the most wonderful place on the planet, settle down, and fall in love. But what if my dreams aren't the same as yours? I hear girls in my school saying, "It's my dream to go to the University of Iowa." You know why? Because where I come from, Iowa is the big party school, where all the popular kids go to live in a frat house. So what? Is that is really your huge, grand plan? To follow the path everyone else is taking, and drink your way through college? Well, have fun I guess.

  

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-

I took the one less traveled by,

and that has made all the difference.

 

So you go ahead and go to Iowa and have your parents pay for everything, although you have never done anything to earn it. I, on the other hand, will work my butt off for the dream of not only having the grades to be accepted into Duke, but also the money. Somewhere deep inside me, I know I'm only setting myself up for failure by doing so. Say I work as hard as I possibly could for the next two years, and finish high school with a 4.0 GPA or higher. Then I apply to Duke. I receive a letter that reads 'congratulations you have been accepted into Duke University.' That won't even matter anyways, because I couldn't even come up with half a years tuition on my own, (not to mention my parents aren't paying a single penny of my college fees). Or consider the other scenario: I work as hard as I can for two years, apply to Duke, and get rejected. I can see myself lying on my kitchen floor, rejection letter clutched in hand, tears streaming down my face. Then I have worked as hard as I possibly could, and now have been informed that my best simply isn't good enough... AND I still wouldn't be able to afford it.

Being asked why I don't just go to Duke on a full-ride basketball scholarship is just another slap in the face. Thank you for not only reminding me that I will never be able to afford the college I have been dreaming of going to since I was in 5th grade, but also reminding me that I am not nearly as good of a basketball player as I wish I was.

 

So I have come up with a plan B and C.

 

Plan B: same as plan A, but attend Brooklyn College instead of Duke.

    Pros: College is in NYC. Division III school, meaning I could play basketball there. Fairly cheap.

    Cons: IT IS NOT DUKE

Plan C: same as plan A and B, but attend Grand Valley State University.

    Pros: Very cheap. Maybe could play basketball there. Just about anyone can get in (80% acceptance rate).

    Cons: It's located in Michigan. Does not allow me to get to the East coast, like I want to. AND IT'S NOT DUKE.

 

So while I am slowly coming to my senses, and trying to accept that I will never go to my dream college, I will never fully give up on trying to go there. I think the worst part of all of this is that not even my own parents believe I could do it. My mother gives me a disgusted look when I try to have a serious conversation with her about how much I want to go to Duke. My father just laughs right in my face. It never takes me by surprise, however. They have always done this to me. It's nothing new. There was a time when I really wanted to become a doctor or a nurse. When my passion for the health field first blossomed, I told my father right away, hoping he would be as excited as I was. He laughed. "You'll never have the grades for that. You're not smart enough." Yes, he actually said that to me. If he read this, though, he would claim he never said that. That is because he is a compulsive liar. My mother is too, but that is a different story, for a different time. Hearing his reaction to my desire to become a doctor might lead you to believe I am stupid, or that I get terrible grades. Truth is, I have never gotten a D or an F in a class, and I've only gotten 3 C's in my life. So yes, I'm all about the A's and B's, but that will never be good enough. Even if I never got anything other than an A in school, I still wouldn't be good enough for their invisible standards. Why are they invisible? Because nothing I ever do will ever pull a "good job" from their mouths. Because their standards aren't 'too high', their simply not there. This doesn't mean that they wouldn't care if I failed a class, (believe me, I get hell for a C+), it means that nothing I do will ever satisfy them or impress them. And this doesn't just go for academics.

I couldn't even tell you the last time I got a "good game" from my mom or dad. Not even a "Your 15-footer in the second quarter was a really good shot." or "Way to post that big girl up and hammer it in the hole." The only people I ever hear these compliments from are my coaches. And it is not as if these basketball terms are just not in their dictionary, because they are. In fact, all my mom and dad ever talk to me about is basketball; the NBA, Michigan State or the Chicago Bulls. They either don't think I'm good enough for their praise, or forget-- every single game. I'm not complaining because they don't fawn over every little thing I do, frankly I wouldn't want them to. But when every night after I have a great game, with 10 or more points and tons of rebounds, my mother walks into my room to say good night before she goes to bed, and I don't get a "good game" or any kind of acknowledgement of the fact that I played a freaking game of basketball that same night, it starts to hurt after a while.

So the combination of continually being told that I will never accomplish my biggest dreams, and constantly being overlooked while giving everything I have, all the time, has worn on me over the years. Just last night, I discovered my immense love for Brooklyn College, and the first person I told was my sister. I texted her all the perks of the college and she said "well there you go." Such a simple response, and yet I was extremely satisfied because it gave me a ray of hope, the slightest bit of positivity, which I hadn't received from anyone in such a long time. Next, I told my mother as she passed through the room. She could barely stop to listen to what I had to say. She was, after all, on her way to play solitaire on the computer, and that was far more important. After I gushed to her all the amazing details of the place I now wanted to call home, she nodded her head, and proceeded through the room.

The last person I told was my father. I said

"Dad, since you always say it's ridiculous that I still think I could go to Duke, I have found another college I'm really interested in. It's Brooklyn College in New York City."

"HA! You can't go to Brooklyn! You'd never make it in New York!" he laughed at me.

Finally I had had enough. Years of being told that I wasn't good enough had piled up too high, and I snapped. I don't remember exactly what I said to him, as it all was a blur of rage. It was something like "I'm tired of your negativity..." "I can go to any college I want to, you don't know me and what I can accomplish..." "I will do what I want, and you are not going to stop me." This had little to no effect on him as he continually talked over me, and laughed in my face, but that didn't matter, because it meant so much to me. They may never give me the time of day to let me tell them what I plan to do with my life. They will never say "I believe in you" or "I am so proud of you," probably not even when I graduate Brooklyn College. But the last thing I will let them do is make me feel that I can not accomplish something I set my mind to. I may never make them proud of me, and I think I am finally okay with that. Truth is, I don't need to hear motivation or praise from them to make me reach my goal. I can do it all on my own.

I know I won't hear "You were right." when I am standing with diploma in hand, or opening the doors of my very own wedding planning business, when I move into my New York City apartment, or when I marry the man I have been dreaming of for so long. And that's fine. Because I will always have my own self motivation, and goals to accomplish, and that will always be enough for me.

 

 

"You just have to believe in yourself when you've got something, and just keep pounding on the door, because if you pound long enough, somebody is going to open it."

-Cynthia Weil-

 

Getaway

Same place. Same people. Same smells and tastes. Same sounds and sights. Same feeling of hopelessness.
I wonder when everything will change. When will I break free from the inevitable cycle I have been prisoner to for so long? If I had some sort of solution to this problem, it wouldn't bother me at all. But nothing is ever good enough anymore. I can't get as good of grades as I want to, I can't find people to hang out with who make me truly happy, I have fallen for a guy that I have already liked before, and I never want to be at home because just being there fills me with an irritability that will soon boil over.
So, in attempt to ebb away at my pain and longing for a better life, I lay in bed at night and close my eyes. I picture your beautiful face next to me. One of your arms is around my waist, the other is running through my hair. You tell me you love me, and everything will soon get better.
Sometimes I lay against the wall and imagine it is your strong body. I would do anything to have you hold me tight. It is sad that this is what I have become; someone who is so obsessed with everything being just perfect, that reality can no longer satisfy me in any way, shape, or form. My estimated time of complete happiness is when I leave this town that is all I have ever known. I am one who easily becomes bored with 'the same old song and dance.' So it's not hard to see that living in the same house, with the same people, eating the same meals, doing the same thing everyday, is what has lead me to what I am now.
I want to go to New York City. As high-maintenance as I am, it seems to be the perfect fit. And not only that, but you are in New York. If reality will truly never be enough to satisfy me, then I must make you the one thing that keeps me holding on.

"If I could ride this slide into forever
What would I give to getaway
That pain, that stain,
Seems like forever
What would you give to getaway

I know this is how I could be over you
You know this is not another waste of time
All this holding on can't be wrong
Just come back to me and I am not alone"
                                    Getaway- Train