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Ah, I remember when I was just a wee young eighth-grader. I thought middle school was the most eye-opening thing ever. Surely now I had seen some s**t, now that I had reached the wizened teenage years, now that I had been though nine years of our country's educational system. Nothing could surprise me.

And then I entered North High.

Gangstas sit at my table in Beginning Drawing and Painting. (Not gangsters, gangstas. There is a difference.) Our tests in Radio are actually played over the radio station that broadcasts out of the school. (88.3 FM, WDGC! No commercials! We play music, too!) My Global Connections teacher is one of the coolest people I've ever met; she told us not to believe anything we read, or even anything she told us, and to make our own conclusions. (She also lets us bring in food related to every unit that we do.) I now have five pet mice as a result of the Critter Project (courtesy of Biology Honors) and they are simply the cutest things. Geometry is actually somewhat enjoyable, as I have finally been blessed with a friendly math teacher. (I still take about an hour to finish the homework, though.) The atheletic achievements of my cousins are a tough act to follow, but I'm trying as hard as I can without actually joining sports. (I can't tell if Coach Isaacson believes in me or doesn't like me.) And English--despite being another Honors class--will always be my refuge, with a chariacature of a teacher and plenty of chances to let out my muse. (Though I can never find time to work on my stories here.)

It seems to me that the beauty, the hilarity, the anxiety, the anger, the randomness of it all was thrust upon me so fast I couldn't catch my breath; every once in a while I stop and think, 'Hell, I'm in highschool! This could be one of the most important periods in my life!', but then music plays over the loudspeakers and I hurry along with only a minute to go before passing period ends. I've never had to push myself so hard--I was forced to drop both band and choir so that I could keep up with karate and my Japanese class, and I can't even give 100 for those. And now they tell me that this is where grades really count, that my dreams will be dashed on some sharp, pointy rocks if I don't get it in gear. In the past few months, I have had moments where I felt lower and more pathetic than I ever had before. I fear I may have lost a friend for good because I tried to dance around a problem, wanting to avoid hurting him but doing it anyway.

But I've also felt happy, so very happy. Laughing over arm-wrestling tournaments during lunch, screaming my lungs out at a football game, looking at the pictures from Homecoming and thinking, for the first time in my life, "I look pretty". It feels like now I'm starting to understand what life is really about, like I'm starting to become the person I'll be in the future. I'm making new friends and trying to avoid making enemies--though if someone physically harms my friends, I can't be held responsible for my actions. I know what it is that I want to do with my life, but who knows when that'll change, too.

They told us at orientation that we had four years to become mature, responsible young adults. I'm beginning to think I can pull it off.

And to think... this is just freshman year...