What is talent? (extra credit)

What is talent? Who, or what defines talent? Does oneself, or its audience determine talent?
The question is open-ended.
No single factor can distinguish the talented, or gifted, from those who are not. But is there really any person who is not gifted? I believe not. There is no definite way of deciding what talent is because everyone sees it in a different light: one specific to themselves. Talent is subjective; one person may love what another person may hate, but this webs off into the idea that these two critics are knowledgeable in different ways. For example, a well-educated artist and a high-class art lover are looking at the same painting. This high-class art lover decides that this piece is beyond them. The piece is not beyond them because it is too good, but they view it as too juvenile or amateur. The art lover cannot see the deeper meaning, but this does not mean that they do not agree that the artist of the painting is talented. The piece is simply not what they are looking for, their knowledge and reasoning branches from their experience in viewing and analyzing different genres of art. The well-educated artist, on the other hand, has fallen in love. They recognize the mature level of the piece and can see the growth through the values. They can feel this piece becoming a part of their emotions. What this person has fallen in love with is not the piece, it is the meaning behind it. The artist loves this piece because they understand talent, they are not naive to the many layers and years of history in the art. The two perspectives are both justified by experience or the fact that they are educated.

Talent is often like a popularity contest too. It is overrated, yet underrated at the same time. I believe that talent is original, once again seen in a different light specific to that of the beholder. Popularity contests never actually happen, but hypothetically speaking: is the winner of the contest necessarily gifted or brilliant or in any way different? Who decides that they are more popular? Who decides that everyone agrees the same way that the winner is truly the winner? There may be 80% that agrees on a person being the more popular, and the other 20% agreed on other contestants. Of that 80%, not every opinion is the same. Not every person has the same reasons for voting them most popular. That person may not even be the most popular or talented, but they become crowned with this title because of the opinions that the audience has adhered to and consider  as talent.

No Regrets.

That awkward moment when you awkwardly begin a blog post talking about awkward moments, that aren't actually awkward. Clearly, that was taken too far. The problem with actual awkward moments is that they are actually awkward and funny once you realize their truth.. yet our society that thinks so highly of our own sense of humors prefers to carry on with the joke and repeat it for just about anything, in various different ways. Although as I contradict myself, I wouldn't call it a problem. I would call it a trait.

As the final season of my high school soccer career comes to an end, I am often finding myself thinking of the parts of it I miss the most, already. I remember chugging my water at freshman year tryouts, shocked with the intensity, that I was never introduced to during my years of competitive club soccer and the other three teams I played for prior to high school. Freshman year, our team qualified for the state tournament for the first time in 5 years, we played a preliminary game then lost. After playing my first intimidating season on Varsity, it was already sophomore year pre-season. I sat there thinking about how I was halfway through my four years, I would never have to condition this much again, I only had two years left. I couldn't wait to lay in my bed blasting my A/C. That season, we qualified for a BYE for the preliminary round, and immediately competed in the first round of play, falling to Franklin High School thus ending our season.

Another successful season had passed, and it was already junior year. Soccer has always been a very big part of my life and by the end of my junior year tryouts I had wanted to quit. I didn't realize that the only reason my coaches were pushing me so hard was because they saw potential - they cared about me and wanted me to work hard. My junior year, our team had come so far. For one of the first few times ever, we qualified for first round and won. Our win over New Bedford High School sent us to the quarter-finals where we were supposed to face Silver Lake on our home field. We had wanted that all season - my last two seasons - to play on our home field and have a crowd noisier than anyone. Unfortunately, that day's weather promised us otherwise, and we played on a neutral-town turf field at Taunton High School because our field had become a sponge for mother nature.

We won again.

We advanced to the semi-finals of the state tournament - something we had never done before, even in school history. Once again, we encountered Franklin High School, and once again, they terminated our season.

It was soon to be my senior season. The year to prove and redeem myself, wrap up the last three years in just 18-plus games. I was elected Captain along with one of my closest friends. It was no longer "our" team, but it was also "my" team. On August 25th, pre-season began. At 8 a.m. on the track to warm up with the annually dreaded mile and a half in under eleven and a half minutes, my last chance was thrown at my face. All through tryouts, myself, my co-captain, and my other teammates who are also my best friends, spent countless hours together even after exhausting practices, having fun and making new inside jokes. This year, we knew it would be a building year after losing 10 or 11 members of our "family" to graduation. We also knew we had to play as hard as we could, allowing us to qualify for the tournament yet another year. All season we worked hard and long, we overcame adversity such as losing some key players to serious injuries early on, and on our senior night we earned two more points to secure our seed in the tournament. For myself and fellow seniors, it was something magical knowing that we were the first class in school history to make the tournament 4 years in a row. It was a sense of accomplishment. The next record we also broke was putting ourself in a seed that earned us a home game once again. For the first time ever, a tournament game was played against Natick High School on that field, and we came out on top with a double-overtime win. We were then paired against Marshfield, one of our most difficult rivals who we beat in the season-opener then lost to the second time. This wasn't just another hard tournament game, but revenge for the last four years against a team who has always taken the lead in the win column. Their boys team had just beat our boys team in their first ever tournament game, and we wanted to CRUSH them. All game we had worked for the win, every player put all they could into the game, and left their hearts on the field even after Marshfield tucked away a goal to take the lead.

In the blow of a whistle, my senior year high school soccer season was over.

The last 4 years, I had wanted so bad to never have to run and sprint through pre-season again, but now that it's over, I would take it all back. I would sprint 12 goalposts just for the sake of the season not being over. All season, our motto was "no regrets". I have no regrets, but I am regretful. I want to keep practicing, I want to hear my coach one last time yell "Get on the end-line! We're running!" I know the first paragraph still hasn't made any sense yet, and you may have forgotten about what it says already, but the best part about being a part of my team was that we took things too far. Whenever someone said something, we would go on making fun of them for something they said ten minutes ago. When one person began to say "That awkward moment..", we would branch off thousands of different awkward moments. My team became a solid part of my daily routine, and now that it's over I feel empty or incomplete. The awkward moments, having practice everyday, the running, the yelling, all the good times, and all the bad times are the traits we carry. I know no matter the season ending, we will always have that bond and we will always live on even if we do not still play together. The next chapter is beginning and the next four years of my future are starting to fall into place. I still wonder if I'll miss it this much once my college soccer career is over.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.7.4

Pay It Forward

Once again. It's 9:13 on another Thursday blog-posting night. This blog actually has a topic for us to expand on, but now that I've been spoon-fed a topic, I can't write. And I thought writing without a topic was hard? I spoke too soon.

So? What's this blog even about? Oh, right. My mentor text. The famous inspirational film, "Pay It Forward". And if you haven't already noticed my mastering of the blog-writing process, you know; the sarcastic punchlines, the back and forth-ness, the tendency to insert half-real words into my work.. I'd like to subtly steer your attention away from my actual book. Not because I don't want to tell anyone about it, certainly not because I haven't written a lot (trust me, I'm into it), but because I'd rather it be a surprise, my mentor text; a hook for suspense and anticipation. So, by "subtly", I mean I will actually very obviously steer your attention away by telling you straight-forwardly. And you, not even noticing or being phased by it.

Anyways, back to the film.

This family movie's plotline is mainly based off of the power of passing the good deed on, and "paying" it up. One of the main characters, Trevor McKinney, is a young boy who learns early on what it means to understand the troubled world around us. (Wow, i just sounded like some sort of convincing voice on a movie-preview..) His social studies teacher, Mr. Simonet, challenges him to idea of changing the world - then doing it. Trevor then rigorously applies himself to his idea, and comes up with challenging those who have been done a favor, to pass it on to three new people, who would then pay it forward again. Instead of paying it back and just returning the favor.

This movie serves as a mentor text for my book because, well, why not? See what I did there? I tricked you into thinking I was actually going to go against my word and tell you more about my book! Ha, maybe. But what I will tell you, is the similarities in my story, and in the Pay It Forward story. My story does involve a young boy, and an adult authority figure. Just as Mr. Simonet and young Trevor, the two characters in my story build an everlasting friendship by inspiring one another, and motivating eachother.I mean, nothing is as cliche as a homeless man and a generous, yet ignorant, boy and his desire to help.. obviously. The moral that I was trying to establish with this idea was also similiar to that of Jim Carey's star role, "Yes Man". Paying forward favors and always saying "yes!" to everything is never going to hurt, it will always have a positive impact...but ofcourse relying on the circumstances that you'd be saying "yes". Even though I am sure that society today has pounded these simple ideas into our heads and the minds of young children, I wanted to provide an instance where paying it forward was rewarded, rewarding, and real. Truly a moral to explore.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.7.4

Actions Speak Louder Than Words

So here I am.. at 8:50PM on a Thursday night, concerned about how I'll find the time to do anything in the next two months, worried about some of my grades because I procrastinate or just flat out forget about my work, and of course.. filling out the infamous Common App. Typical stress, but hey, who am I to complain. As the average teenager would say, "I'm over it".

The second I realized I had forgotten about this blogpost and that it had to be written and posted within the next hour, every excuse I have ever told, or thought about, created a filmstrip across my brain. The first was my computer malfunctioning in some way (even though, in reality, that does happen all the time, so I probably shouldn't cry wolf) forcing me to hand-write my post and hand it in for partial or no credit. The next excuse was having to complete the Common Application for 11+ schools and stressing myself out so much that it was almost impossible for me to write a blogpost about absolutely nothing and anything at all at the same time. After meticulously trying to decide which excuse to use, I settled for not using one. My conclusion and reasoning brought me back to the realization that even if I did have a good excuse, that wasn't going to compensate for the credit from actually doing the assignment. The post would still be late, and the only satisfaction I would have would be that I, all by myself, thought of an excuse clever enough to feel acceptable. So, I put the Common Application and my brain on hold for a bit so I could prove to myself that I wasn't as lazy as I thought, and OBVIOUSLY so I could blog....! And, since my computer is actually malfunctioning right now, I'm "texting" this entire blog post with my two thumbs. Yes, on my phone. Typing every endless thought into an e-mail, copying and pasting into Blogger.com, and if you can actually read this right now, I'm successfully posting this. JUST to prove to myself and of course to my grades, that I'm not that much of a lazy procrastinator. But since I waited and forgot for so long that I was supposed to do this, and I wanted to put it off and make up an excuse, I guess I'm contradicting too.. Then again, you can call me a lot of names but actions still speak louder than words.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.7.4

Children's book.

It is one of the most gut-wrenching issues of the world today that we have yet to understand. "Give a man a fish, you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, you feed him for a lifetime". Homelessness. The problem is not only that a person goes without shelter, warmth, food, and money to supply what one needs: what we take for granted. The problem is, what is our protocol? Do we give the person what they need, or do we teach them how to obtain it themselves? Or do we choose to ignore the problem and carry on with our content and "above all" selves?

Maxwell is just a young boy attending school everyday just as everyone does. He shows no interest or motivation to do anything, to learn anything. He walks around as if he is, indeed, "above all". Maxwell is the main character of this story, and his attitude speaks volumes. His constant mood, never mind his attitude, is ignorance. Every so often, Maxwell visits the local market to pick up a few things. When Max enters and exits the store, there is always a man who is there who is without a home, without a family, without dignity. Max, as expected, pays no attention to the man. One day, the man approaches Max. Still no attention, and the boy carries on with his day. The next time Max makes a visit to the store, the man forces himself to influence this boy, to inspire the boy to learn the lessons of life and beware of the inconsiderate future to come. He wants Max to follow a different path than that of himself and land himself anywhere but a puddle of loneliness outside of a grocery store. The two build a strong relationship, teaching each other something different each day. The boy's ignorance is slowly fading, until the slightest disruption. One day when the boy is making his regular visit to the man, he notices he is not there. The man is not in the bakery across the street where he typically would be for warmth in the winter, he is not in the store, and he is not at the police station.

To develop the boy's perspective and connect with Maxwell as close as possible, I collected pictures of grocery stores from child eye level. I carefully observed the activity of a homeless person and a typical day in that person's shoes. I decided based on what I would do if I were in Max's position. Would I provide the homeless man with the tools to succeed, or would I provide him with food, money, shelter - anything? I re-evaluated my thoughts, and my morals. After doing so, I proceeded to use my research as an aid for my writing, for my dialogue, and for the way I created my characters' attitudes towards not only a specific situation, but every situation. I began to wonder what if I was the homeless man himself. What would you do?

College Essay

Lateralization of the brain; the brain's distinct hemispheres and their functions. William Herrmann, a man known for his research in creative thinking and whole brain methods, developed a system to measure and describe the ways people think. His model introduces four dominant methods of thinking: Analytical, Sequential, Interpersonal, and Imaginative. He labels the brain's hemispheres with the letters A, B, C, and D, in a counter-clockwise fashion. Analytical and Sequential on the left side of the brain, and Interpersonal and Imaginative on the right side. I would consider myself a right-brained person. On the interpersonal level, the qualities that identify this hemisphere are feeling based, kinesthetic, and emotional. Closer to the cerebral mode, is the Imaginative traits; holistic, intuitive, integrating, and synthesizing.

I was handed a box of crayons in the second grade and asked to begin by sketching an illustration of an event that had happened that week, then below on the piece of paper, accompany the image with a short story. I reached for the black crayon first; I drew my people. I pressed boldly onto the paper, imperfectly drawing a circle for my father's head, then my mother, my older sister, me, and my younger sister. Unlike the rest of my classmates still using crayon surrounding me, I used my pencil next. I made the lonesome circles into lollipops by lightly adding bodies to my family. Following the body, I added arms and legs. I had carefully anticipated that I was going to be erasing some lines as my drawing progressed. I chose the brown crayon next to outline a t-shirt onto my father - knowing to avoid the pinks and purples for him. Before completely shading in the empty shirt, I erased the line piercing right through the shirt, and the lines I had drawn for what I called arms. I repeated this process meticulously until my family was complete. "Everybody hand in your work!" This phrase was the deepest of my concerns at the time. I hadn't written anything. I had yet to explain my picture.


Since then, it has become obvious that I am a right-brained, "kinesthetic" learner. Carefully detailing each drawing? That's where the analytical hemisphere contributes. I've always found it harder to understand anything but some form of media. There's no way for me to connect to my learning experience on the emotional, personal, expressive, and intuitive levels. I remembering going through the last 8 years of school feeling as if I had to struggle to find the answer to a simple but complex math problem, while in seconds, my classmates could tell you every exact calculation. It wasn't that I was slow, or that I didn't know how to solve the problem, but because I learned differently. I comprehended the information a more visual way. This, I now understand.


Most people would try to change themselves for the good of their future, but I have chosen to embrace it. Instead of being taught how to graph a line by hearing, I physically apply myself to the problem by drawing out the graph and plotting the line, taking the extra step in order to learn. Outside of the average classroom, I participate in art classes. When placed into an art class as a student that is not artistic, most people's attitudes would be "YES! An easy A," or "Great. I'm not doing anything, this will be simple". As an artistic student, I see having an art class as an opportunity for expressing myself, my thoughts, my stress. I see an opportunity to evaluate balance, evaluate the world, and to evaluate mood.