Learning to Walk

I started walking to school in first grade. Every morning, my dad would wake up early and leash the dog and walk along with me. We lived about half a mile, and the walk was nothing less than enjoyable. Given, when there were hazardous weather conditions we drove, but otherwise walking was nothing less than normal. My father walked with me until third grade, at which point I was allowed to go on my own. He pointed my sister and I in the right direction and simply let us commute alone.

I lived in suburbia. In a safe, clean neighborhood. I spent all of my years walking to and from Prairie Trail Elementary School. When I graduated to middle school, I never expected there to be a change of plans. The middle school was a bit less than a mile, and slightly uphill: as uphill as the Texas plains can be. So, because it was longer, I mostly rode my bike. Rain or shine, early or late I made my way to school with little parental involvement for a full decade of my life. I clearly remember fighting to reach the bike racks at my middle school early so as to be guaranteed a spot. I remember wedging my bicycle into the cool, metal groves and straining to lock it up without attaching another bike along with it.

Yesterday, I took the scenic route to my house in order to avoid extra traffic at the end of my forty-five minute driven commute home. Yesterday, I drove past Lamar Middle School. It wasn't, however, until I pulled into my driveway that I realized what had seemed amiss. The bicycle rack was empty. Suddenly, visual memories flooded me: the huge crowds of running motors surrounding the elementary school, the idle crossing guards, the chaperoned backpackers.

So, I did some research. Statistics show that in 1969, 41 percent of children either walked or biked to school according to the National Household Travel survey. By 2001, that percentage had dropped to 11.

Parents have begun to feel nervous. The publicity of the internet, and the overwhelming power of the media has dramatically influenced this generation of parents. The constant outpour of overpowering news specials and dramatic stories is causing fear. They are meant to cause fear. Yet, this fear-the nervousness parent's feel- is causing dramatic changes in changes in the social patterns of parenting. A recent psychological study from the University of California at Berkeley-spearheaded by Paula S. Fass-, proposes a hypothesis that by driving their children to school parents feel they are protecting them, and thus "It's a conformation that '[they] are a good parent'."

The reality, however, is that childhood obesity is rising at an alarming rate. According to the Center for Disease Control and Prevention, over the past three decades the childhood obesity rate has more than doubled for preschool children aged 2-5 years and adolescents aged 12-19 years, and it has more than tripled for children aged 6-11 years. The reality is that without a decent degree of independence, without the physical activity, our children are going to grow up to be completely dependent, fat adults.

This summer, I went on a world history and aesthetics tour of western Europe. I, and sixteen of my fellow classmates, covered 6 countries and 9 cities in 24 days. An average of 24 miles a day according to the flaky pedometer. 24 miles, by foot. We walked: and in that walking I found comfort, the familiar memories of childhood. They were long, strenuous days. We were hot, and frustrated and annoyed. Yet, we weren't protected. There were days when we hated each other. There was one adult for all sixteen of us. At any moment, one of us could have been pushed into a van and driven to Eastern Europe to become someone's second wife. (We made the mistake of watching "Taken" on the plane ride over). Yet, our parents and our teacher, trusted us to remain responsible: trusted us to stay with the group.

The walking set off a stream of events. The independence associated with that short walk to school every day helps to form the character traits needed for leadership in adults. So maybe, just maybe, this generation of parents needs to accept the nervousness that will occur when their babies leave that first day. Maybe, that difficulty and emotional strain is necessary to help today's children grow into the best adults they can be. Maybe, its time we give our children the physical activity they need to remain healthy. Maybe we should just:

Let. them. walk.

Attention Whore!

A few days ago, Facebook changed the layout of the news feed it displays to members. The only obvious difference is that now there are two news feeds. The first is labeled "live feed" and it displays in real time all of the information your 600+ "friends" are posting right now. The second-and the only real change to the Facebook universe-is labeled "news feed". Now the difference, is subtle and, quite honestly, it took me a fair amount of time to realize what the difference between to two was.

But when I realized, well, I understood why 23 of my facebook friends had joined a group against it already. You see, the change allows something that should be an exciting addition. However, the change limits our publicity. In the "news feed", the magical facebook decides who your favorite "friends" are and displays only their postings. Crap. This means that no longer do all of my displays do not get sent to ALL of my friends. This means that, in theory, my "friends" could choose to only observe their news feed, and thus they would never see the meaningless status updates I was posting. This means that only people facebook decides care about me will be able see me.

We really are attention whores. We post statuses on Twitter every fifteen minutes with our location and what we're up to. We reply to facebook posts, and take quizes no one cares about. We blog to our three or four continual readers. We have tumblrs, and flickrs, and plenty of social networking systems under our belts. Sure, myspace is on the downfall, but that hasn't stopped us from acquiring four other systems to let the world know our every move. We need to be noticed and adored and looked in the face and told "you exist". That's why the girls in front of me at movies are invariably texting; their blue light filling the theatre and averting my attention. They too, need to be continually reaffirmed of their importance.

See, I'm doing it right now. I'm blogging, and the blogosphere revolves entirely around attention. I could say that I'm writing for my own enjoyment. Which, partially, I am. But reality screams that were I only writing for my own happiness I would do so in a Word document, or on some tattered deadened tree. I wouldn't beg for comments, or desire a beaucoup of readers. Yet, I'm picking my words for you, dear reader, in the hope that you will read my tiresome rant, and look me dead in the eye and say "you are real".

Confession: I am an attention whore.

bealonghorn.com

The University of Texas at Austin

is my dream school. I love the campus. I love the Plan II program. I love Austin, and I love being on campus. I love seeing the tower lit up at night. I love going to football games and chanting along with 80,000 fellow fans.

Last week, I took the plunge. On Monday, I submitted my online application. On Wednesday, I sent in the most precious package in the world to Austin. I sent in my resume, and my portfolio, and a letter of recommendation. Today, I sent in my housing and honors application.

And now its over.

The countless hours, and retyped words I spent on that application are gone. The reformating, redesigning, and reorganizing I spent hours on to make that application the absolute best representation of my self I could, are all gone. The big gold paper clip I combined all of myself with, is gone.

Everything. Gone.

And now comes the scary part. I've done everything within my power, and now my control is taken away. I can no longer switch the sentence orders in my essays. I can no longer add activities to my resume. I can no longer control my application. My application is now controlled by the Office of Admissions. My application, and my admissions decision. I should be nervous, and worried, and impatient. Now, while it is impossible to deny that all of those feelings are incredibly present, I can honestly say they are not my greatest emotion.

Relief.

So, now... we wait. One application down, three to go.

Now and Not Now.

Totem 14"40"5"

Last year in AP 3-D we were required to create a totem. There were no other requirements, simply, that we must create something "totemlike". So I created this. A tall ,well-crafted, design oriented perspective on a totem pole. I honestly believe it to be one of my better pieces, but until recently it held no meaning to me. It was just that.... a totem of nothing

This weekend, my totem acquired meaning. My totem is high school. This piece is created of four parts: the four years of high school. Some are bigger (better) than others, and some are differently shaped than others, but together they form my high school career.

You see, I realized that we are always building a totem. Many totems really. Relationship totems, friendship totems, school totems, work totems. Totems are always surrounding us, totems are always a huge part of our existence. This weekend, I realized why senior year is so difficult. Why, even though my classes are more simplistic and my grades are hight, I feel such an elevated level of stress. I have too many totems.

My father told me last week that senior year is a time of "now and not now". That this year, instead of being able to focus solely on matters today, we are forced to focus not only now, but on not now. We are focused on what we are doing today and tomorrow , and also what we will be doing in 8 months. We are submitting college applications, we are creating resumes and portfolios. We are designing what we hope the rest of our lives will be. Yet, at the same time we must continue to focus on the now. We must continue to notice and perform our daily activities and routines. This year is realistically easier than last year. I am better at managing my time. I'm better at dealing with the AP course load. I'm better at building my high school totem pole than I was last year. The problem lies in the fact that this year we must build two totems. While we finish and polish and sand off our high school totem, we must begin doing preparatory sketches for our next totem. Whether that totem be set in college, or the work field, or an internship it has to be prepared for. We have to take time out of our already hectic nows to deal with our not nows.

I spent this entire weekend in Austin. I spent this entire weekend at the school of my dreams. I went to class with friends in the major I want, and I ate in the cafeteria students eat in. This weekend, I might as well have been a student at the University of Texas at Austin, and it broke my heart to remember that that reality is still "not now". I'm desperate, pining really, to be there. I'm not sure that I have Senior Swine Flu, because I really am happy here, but all of this planning for the next totem pole is making me incredibly antsy to start building. My applications are almost done, My sketches almost finished. Now, the only thing left is to submit them to people I don't know who will decide which totem I will be building for the next four years of my life. Its a scary reality that in a few months I will know where my totem will be built and with what.

Scary, but exciting.