Reflection:
Our project, Hidden Kitchens was about finding foods that are important to us. We wrote graphic novels, created novel studies on only one of the many graphic novels we read during this project, wrote memoirs about a specific food that was a part of our lives, completed anthropological research and made an ethnography. For me specifically, I also created a video to symbolize my anthropological research. I worked really hard on it and it was definitely a highlight of this project. The graphic novel was very difficult. I was so worried about it being done on time, that I may have lost sight of the importance of the story and pictures. I really loved learning about a whole nother genre that I had no prior information about. Before the Hidden Kitchens project, I thought that graphic novels were like comic books and were for kids. I learned about the beauty of drawings. I read some of the best books I’ve ever read during this project and I never imagined they would be ¨comic books¨. This was my first experience with cartoons. I love art, but had never before come in contact with this type of art. I think that I can use the time management that I learned during this project in high school. There were lots of aspects to the project and many due dates. I had to choose what to work on and in what order so that everything could be completed by their specific due date. I was able to turn in everything on time and after the revising and red-penning process, I am proud of each piece of work. I think that this work ethic(staying in for lunch and break, working at home, putting in extra time, making school a priority), will help me excel in high school and allow me to prepare for the work ethic required to accomplish my goals later in life.
Safe Haven
Ski trip. It’s always been called that. It’s a loving name, an adoring name. Ironic that we call it a “ski” trip considering I’m a mediocre snowboarder now. And trust me, I make sure everybody knows. We have gone every single year since I was three. It’s tradition.
When I was little, of course, I started out on skis. I was fairly good. I loved it and spending time in the gleaming snow with my family and good friends was something unforgettable. I took it for granted. I now see that these are the things that made and still make me happy. I was lucky to have a mom that planned such special trips for our family. And an even better mom to sacrifice so much to have kids, and also work so she can provide for them. I wish I thanked her more when I was a kid. I just didn’t understand that my experiences were a gift. I owe all of my memories to my mom.
I always made it difficult for her, having to drag all of my luggage through the airport because I was stubborn and overall just a pain in the ass. There is no doubt that I was a very difficult child, but she made sure I knew that she loved me to the moon and back. Honestly, I’m still difficult. It’s a miracle my mom even puts up with me anymore.
I thought I was too good to ski anymore, so I tried snowboarding, the ever so frightful thing I knew would leave me sore and bruised, mostly on my butt. I soon found out that all the talk was definitely true. But luckily in my case, just for the first two days. By the end of the week, I assure you I was shredding. I absolutely fell in love with it. I hate that about me. It seems that I love broadly, but also deeply. Almost anything I try, I become attached to, which can make life kind of complicated. But snowboarding made me feel happy so I did it every second I got the chance. It was something I could do by myself without feeling lonely or bored, which is difficult because of my constant need to be doing things. The learning process was difficult and tiring, but I think it taught me a lot of perseverance. I’m completely confident now. I’m so grateful to experience. God, I am so lucky. I don’t say that as a brag, I say it with the utmost gratitude for my life.
A girl I grew up with who became a sister to me, “Kalela”. Her little sister could never pronounce Kalea correctly, so she was known as Kalela at the cabin. We never even tried to correct her. Eventually, we forgot her real name because we only knew her as Kalela. I remember when she was my best friend, now she’s my little sister’s best friend. It seemed that as I grew I up, I left her behind. But we still go to the same cabin with the same people every single year. The cabin is a memorable place, but I think that’s because of the people we stayed with. I love them more than all of the constellations in the sky.
Kalea was the first one to share my passion for these delectable chicken tenders served exclusively at the lodge at the bottom of the ski hill. It’s funny because they’re really nothing fancy. I loved them since I was a kid. Just chicken tenders and fries served in a little cardboard tray like the ones that they use for fries at In-N-Out. Snow activities burn lots of calories, so it induces a large appetite. That would also explain why your feet feel the wrath of the fiery Satan when you get home after a long day of skiing or snowboarding. But those chicken tenders seem to fulfill all of my dietary needs. I also drink a cold, crisp blue mountain berry blast flavored powerade. I could never get sick of it. NEVER. I eat the same food every single day of every week of every year that I’ve been there. Maybe that’s how I’ve grown to love them so dearly.
When I sit down, take off my puffy coat and devour those crispy chicken tenders, I feel lucky. Lucky to be alive, lucky to travel, lucky to have a home away from home. The overwhelming swell in my heart is what makes those chicken tenders mean something. The memories, the feelings, the happiness, the love tears and the big family that comes with them are what makes those chicken tenders taste so good. It’s getting up and hearing my toes in my boots click against the carpet as I walk to the ketchup dispenser. It’s the moment in time when I feel truly happy and I’m able to look around and attempt to fathom the entire emotion in only a matter of seconds.
Happiness in a small fragment of time has this effect on me. I learned they’re called love tears. I feel so much love in my existence, it fills me up so quickly, there’s no more room for the tears. It feels like blazing passion making my soul burn. My eyes get hot, I furrow my brows, then slowly, subtly, salty drops come streaming down my face. So subtle, usually no one even notices. It’s happened a lot lately. I think that means I’m happy. You would think a story complete with only cheerful memories wouldn’t involve tears, but these are different tears.
For those tiny instances in time, I am happy. Those are what you compare life with for the rest of time. It’s the only thing you have. Through the chaos and destruction. My only escape. It’s a safe haven. Without it, I am tiny and weak. Something vital to my survival. I am grateful for this life, I love this life!
Our project, Hidden Kitchens was about finding foods that are important to us. We wrote graphic novels, created novel studies on only one of the many graphic novels we read during this project, wrote memoirs about a specific food that was a part of our lives, completed anthropological research and made an ethnography. For me specifically, I also created a video to symbolize my anthropological research. I worked really hard on it and it was definitely a highlight of this project. The graphic novel was very difficult. I was so worried about it being done on time, that I may have lost sight of the importance of the story and pictures. I really loved learning about a whole nother genre that I had no prior information about. Before the Hidden Kitchens project, I thought that graphic novels were like comic books and were for kids. I learned about the beauty of drawings. I read some of the best books I’ve ever read during this project and I never imagined they would be ¨comic books¨. This was my first experience with cartoons. I love art, but had never before come in contact with this type of art. I think that I can use the time management that I learned during this project in high school. There were lots of aspects to the project and many due dates. I had to choose what to work on and in what order so that everything could be completed by their specific due date. I was able to turn in everything on time and after the revising and red-penning process, I am proud of each piece of work. I think that this work ethic(staying in for lunch and break, working at home, putting in extra time, making school a priority), will help me excel in high school and allow me to prepare for the work ethic required to accomplish my goals later in life.
Safe Haven
Ski trip. It’s always been called that. It’s a loving name, an adoring name. Ironic that we call it a “ski” trip considering I’m a mediocre snowboarder now. And trust me, I make sure everybody knows. We have gone every single year since I was three. It’s tradition.
When I was little, of course, I started out on skis. I was fairly good. I loved it and spending time in the gleaming snow with my family and good friends was something unforgettable. I took it for granted. I now see that these are the things that made and still make me happy. I was lucky to have a mom that planned such special trips for our family. And an even better mom to sacrifice so much to have kids, and also work so she can provide for them. I wish I thanked her more when I was a kid. I just didn’t understand that my experiences were a gift. I owe all of my memories to my mom.
I always made it difficult for her, having to drag all of my luggage through the airport because I was stubborn and overall just a pain in the ass. There is no doubt that I was a very difficult child, but she made sure I knew that she loved me to the moon and back. Honestly, I’m still difficult. It’s a miracle my mom even puts up with me anymore.
I thought I was too good to ski anymore, so I tried snowboarding, the ever so frightful thing I knew would leave me sore and bruised, mostly on my butt. I soon found out that all the talk was definitely true. But luckily in my case, just for the first two days. By the end of the week, I assure you I was shredding. I absolutely fell in love with it. I hate that about me. It seems that I love broadly, but also deeply. Almost anything I try, I become attached to, which can make life kind of complicated. But snowboarding made me feel happy so I did it every second I got the chance. It was something I could do by myself without feeling lonely or bored, which is difficult because of my constant need to be doing things. The learning process was difficult and tiring, but I think it taught me a lot of perseverance. I’m completely confident now. I’m so grateful to experience. God, I am so lucky. I don’t say that as a brag, I say it with the utmost gratitude for my life.
A girl I grew up with who became a sister to me, “Kalela”. Her little sister could never pronounce Kalea correctly, so she was known as Kalela at the cabin. We never even tried to correct her. Eventually, we forgot her real name because we only knew her as Kalela. I remember when she was my best friend, now she’s my little sister’s best friend. It seemed that as I grew I up, I left her behind. But we still go to the same cabin with the same people every single year. The cabin is a memorable place, but I think that’s because of the people we stayed with. I love them more than all of the constellations in the sky.
Kalea was the first one to share my passion for these delectable chicken tenders served exclusively at the lodge at the bottom of the ski hill. It’s funny because they’re really nothing fancy. I loved them since I was a kid. Just chicken tenders and fries served in a little cardboard tray like the ones that they use for fries at In-N-Out. Snow activities burn lots of calories, so it induces a large appetite. That would also explain why your feet feel the wrath of the fiery Satan when you get home after a long day of skiing or snowboarding. But those chicken tenders seem to fulfill all of my dietary needs. I also drink a cold, crisp blue mountain berry blast flavored powerade. I could never get sick of it. NEVER. I eat the same food every single day of every week of every year that I’ve been there. Maybe that’s how I’ve grown to love them so dearly.
When I sit down, take off my puffy coat and devour those crispy chicken tenders, I feel lucky. Lucky to be alive, lucky to travel, lucky to have a home away from home. The overwhelming swell in my heart is what makes those chicken tenders mean something. The memories, the feelings, the happiness, the love tears and the big family that comes with them are what makes those chicken tenders taste so good. It’s getting up and hearing my toes in my boots click against the carpet as I walk to the ketchup dispenser. It’s the moment in time when I feel truly happy and I’m able to look around and attempt to fathom the entire emotion in only a matter of seconds.
Happiness in a small fragment of time has this effect on me. I learned they’re called love tears. I feel so much love in my existence, it fills me up so quickly, there’s no more room for the tears. It feels like blazing passion making my soul burn. My eyes get hot, I furrow my brows, then slowly, subtly, salty drops come streaming down my face. So subtle, usually no one even notices. It’s happened a lot lately. I think that means I’m happy. You would think a story complete with only cheerful memories wouldn’t involve tears, but these are different tears.
For those tiny instances in time, I am happy. Those are what you compare life with for the rest of time. It’s the only thing you have. Through the chaos and destruction. My only escape. It’s a safe haven. Without it, I am tiny and weak. Something vital to my survival. I am grateful for this life, I love this life!