The Council

Klomgrombomulon looked around the table, studying the other four faces without curiosity. There was a brief period in which he was fascinated being around alien life, but since it became his job he could do nothing but see them as they were: animals. Across the table sat a creature much like Klomgrombomulon, but with smooth leathery skin over his torso where a head would be. Where a head should be, thought Klomgrombomulon. Struggling to find comfort in the chair on his right was a slender, many-legged creature rubbing its wings together. He couldn’t help but be reminded of the insects on his planet, the ones that arrived in swarms and destroyed. Although he knew it was his evolution prevailing over logic, when it extended one of the legs in an interplanetary greeting, Klomgrombomulon’s lips curled over his teeth in disgust. Although he could usually hide his disdain for the wretched life forms around him, he hadn’t been having a very good day. The creature blinked its fist-sized lifeless red eyes and lowered its thin appendage without visible emotion. They sat around a long black table, waiting for the meeting to begin.

Although he was the only representative of his planet, Cramara, it had been many years since he’d had the displeasure of seeing these unfortunate faces for the purpose of a Council of United Life meeting. Cramarians generally preferred to be on their temperate, lush planet around other Cramarians, and Klomgrombomulon was no different. But he was needed, so he came.

“It’s been a while since we got new council members, huh?” chirped a nasally voice across the table. Klomgrombomulon looked down at the pathetic specimen–a Scothumite. With a totally hairless white face, devoid of lips, eyelids, or a nose, the tiny creature looked around expectantly, hoping to receive a response from somebody. Klomgrombomulon had been avoiding contact with its horrible eyes for a few seconds when the doors at the end of the room slid open silently and two creatures entered. Klomgrombomulon had long since given up on learning the names of the 5 alien races, but he recognized the taller one, with its arched back and hair covered face, as Borroque. The other one, small and grey, spoke with a booming voice.

“Three days ago Pathfinder C61 detected intelligent life on a planet, Earth, about 4.5 light years from here.”

It flicked its wrist and in the air hung a blue screen. It depicted a solar system showing eight planets, and zoomed in on the third one from its star. It was quite a beautiful planet, hues of green with their blue ocean gave the impression of life. “Most of the surface is covered in water, and it has four seasonal periods, a 6.4 thousand kilometer polar radius, and an atmosphere comprised mostly of nitrogen and oxygen. The lifeforms call themselves humans.” On the screen appeared such a creature; small patch of brown hair covered its head, and it outstretched its arms proudly. Klomgrombomulon found it oddly compelling, and strangely beautiful. It resembled his kind substantially; the only noticeable differences being its light color and smooth skin, contrasting the thick, red hide that kept Cramarians safe during their hellish winters. He suddenly felt an admittedly silly connection to the creature, far more so than any other bipedal alien race he’d met.

“They’re about 12 units tall, and have highly similar neural systems to the Cramarians, within 94.5 percent.” Heads turned to study Klomgrombomulon–he found he didn’t appreciate it.

“And there are almost 8 billion of them.”

Klomgrombomulon looked around the room to see if their disbelief matched his; he found it did.

“8 billion?” asked the tiny creature next to Klomgrombomulon. “How?”

“Well, reproducing provides them with more pleasure than literally anything else on their planet. Their numbers are on track to double in about 60 years.”

“On the one planet?” asked the torso. “How is that sustainable?”

“It’s not. Their practices are preposterous, and it’s destroying them. Almost a billion of them are starving, but they throw away half their food uneaten every day.”

“What? Why?” asked the torso. “I don’t understand.”

“There are areas of their world in which almost all of them go without the sustenance or H2O that they need, and there are other parts of the world in which everyone has what they want, and wastes indiscriminately.”

“What happens to the food?”

“They bury it.”

Klomgrombomulon snorted with laughter, no longer feeling such a sentiment for the creature.

“I presume they haven’t begun to dabble with particle reduction?” he asked.

“No, nothing of the sort, although I suspect they wouldn’t use it to solve their problems even if they did. The human brain has developed a fatal case of ‘out of sight, out of mind,’ which leads to them placing trivial, insignificant problems like receiving disapproval from one they will never meet again-,”

“This is seriously one of their biggest causes of stress” interrupted the Borroque. “Some humans are crippled by it.”

“-ahead of the imminent extinction of their species. Because they won’t be the ones to die out, but rather future generations, they just don’t think about it, and therefore don’t solve these problems.”

The creature flicked its wrist again, showing on the screen many pie graphs, the vast majority of most covered in red.

“These are their 24 essential species, the ones most likely and able to feed and provide nutrients to their population were they to be respectfully harvested. Many have lost over 90 percent of their numbers because of relentless hunting, and their biomass as a whole has dropped over 60 percent.”

“It’s just… frustrating to see such an inability to perceive the future,” muttered the nasally Scothumite.

“My florpdorp,” boomed the smaller presenter, “I’ve been trying to stay professional this whole time–it’s impossible. We know all this from monitoring their broadcasts–which means, by the way, that we only know this because they do too–but you wouldn’t believe the crazy shit they have on there. They call it the internet–billions of them post whatever they feel is a meaningful contribution to the knowledge of their species, but some of it is just horrifying and so so strange. And for some reason, they’re all obsessed with these animals.”

On the screen appeared two creatures, quadrapedic and covered in fur. The larger one was yellow, and the smaller one’s tail pointed in the air. The labels under them said DOG and CAT.

“They enslave these creatures by the millions, sometimes treating them and talking to them as if they’re humans. We have no indication that they can understand them; we don’t really know why they do this. We found millions of videos of these animals just existing; it appears the humans watch these for pleasure.”

“They’re advanced enough to broadcast this garbage past their atmosphere, but they’re not solving any of their problems?”

“Their population exists in almost 200 separate governments, many of which are trying to destroy each other at any given time, usually over money, land, or pride. They believe themselves too preoccupied with such conflict to unite and solve the problems that will destroy them all. While they’re fairly advanced technologically, their failure to determine what is deserving of advancement would lead you to believe otherwise. The nation they consider their “superpower” spends more money on air conditioning for its warriors than it does on researching space travel. The farthest they’ve been is their own moon, and it’s highly unlikely they’ll ever leave their Solar System.”

Klomgrombomulon cared to listen no longer and spoke up. “Yes, this is unusual, but the universe is an unusual place. Why have we been gathered here? Surely these kinks are nothing a few of our consultants couldn’t work out.”

“Well, it seems humans have a history of violence. Before their technological revolution,” said the small man, barely concealing his contempt, “undeveloped humans encountered by more developed ones would invariably be enslaved and murdered. It’s likely that were we to initiate physical contact, humanity would project their murderous nature onto us and strike preemptively.”

Klomgrombomulon almost laughed. “Strike the Cityfleet? Tell me, with what would they strike us?”

“While their focus on conquering and destroying rather than cooperation has left them centuries behind us technologically, their weapons are like nothing we’ve ever seen. Their last major conflict, which, by the way, killed over 70 million of them, ended with the dropping of two bombs on two urban centers.”

On the screen appeared a primitive photo of a primitive, but sprawling city. And then, nothing but ruins.

“The bombs utilized nuclear fission, causing an explosion that wiped out over 90 percent of both cities. Two hundred thousand of them.” Klomgrombomulon heard a high pitched whistle from the winged being across the table–he took this as a portrayal of alarm. Two hundred thousand deaths would mean the extinction of his species.

“They now have fifteen thousand nuclear bombs; some of them are thousands of times more powerful than the ones used in violence.”

Klomgrombomulon looked around once more at the somber faces around him. Everyone was beginning to understand; these creatures wouldn’t just kill themselves, they would kill everything–if spooked.

“While we’ve never done such a thing before, the proposal being made to the Council of United Life is that we initiate a Do-Not-Contact protocol with Earth, and reevaluate their standing in 75 years. We feel the ways both the planet and the council would benefit from the relationship are far outweighed by the risk of catastrophic loss of life that may be experienced were the Cityfleet to be transported within communication distance of Earth. Are there any questions before we put this proposal to a vote?”

The representative for the Askies, a slender, blue creature with a pointed face, spoke. “What do they have to offer?” A fair question, but Klomgrombomulon doubted he would be interested enough in the answer to sway his conscience.

“Most of the reason humans find themselves stuck in this unfortunate state is that those most likely to seek and attain power are also those least likely to value life outside their own. The truth is that humans are extremely variable.  They produce as many artists as they do murderers, as many inventors as they do thieves. Some of what we’ve seen proves that their capability to create is just as great as their capability to destroy. That being said, a beautiful song won’t do much against one of those bombs.”

Silence. Solemn faces considered the weight of their next move. The creature addressed the room once more.

“All in favor of disregarding the proposal and initiating contact with Earth, please speak.”

“We can help them,” said the Askie, “if we speak to their leaders and arrange a compromise. They are an adolescent species and deserve the same chances that all of our people have enjoyed. If we leave them to die in space, we would be no better than them.”

“Yes, it sounds like these creatures could benefit from some perspective.” The tiny white alien was hard to take seriously but spoke with confidence. “Their only reference point is themselves. Once they realize how huge, yet solvable their problems are, it may incentivize them into becoming a respectable council member. The universe is a big place, and intelligent life is rare; we can’t let them wither out.”

“Yes,” said the torso, “life is rare, too rare to put at such a risk for the sake of these stupid creatures. I propose that we eliminate them from the record completely, leave them to sort out their own problems.”

Klomgrombomulon couldn’t help but compare the humans to his people. Many thousands of years ago, Cramarians walked down a similar path of bloodshed, slavery, and pain–within years of their extinction, they were saved, becoming the third race to join the council. Although this history is mostly forgotten, overshadowed by vast accomplishments and breakthroughs to come, Klomgrombomulon couldn’t help but feel responsible for them, for the generations of future humans and what they would create.

“I see no real reason for us to risk everything for this backward people,” buzzed a device the winged being held to its clicking mandibles. “What could we tell them that they don’t already know? That murdering each other is counterproductive? Knowledge of this bomb alone has the potential to be just as dangerous as its creator. I also propose that we strike their existence from public record.” It put the device onto the table and turned to look at Klomgrombomulon. Everyone had voiced their thoughts; he was the final vote; the deciding factor. “Leave them. We’re no more responsible for their fates than they are. If they voluntarily disappear into space, who’s to say it’s not for the best?”

The resulting silence was broken by a confirmation from the smaller presenter.

“I will notify the records department, and contact Pathfinder C61 to continue on their journey. Thank you for your time, council.”

They performed the interplanetary greeting and left the room.

Alone in the universe, thought Klomgrombomulon. What a terrifying thought.

Weekly Wrap-Up!

 

This week in Design Studio, I worked on a few things, but the thing that took the most of my time was working on my Magic Circle script. In the skit, called “Free Couch,” a couple go to pick up a free Craigslist couch but don’t find at all what they expected. 

Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

I used much of the time to actually write my script and bring it to a place where I was happy in some of the most productive work blocks I’ve had this year. Then I took advantage of the novelist and fellow Magic Circle writer in the room to get some much needed feedback on the script. Some of the good notes I’m considering implementing are motivation and reason for a character’s seeming psychotic break, the complete removal of another character, and the reworking of a few lines. I didn’t have time to implement this feedback but plan on doing so next week. I was kept busy with work from other classes, particularly the upcoming Social Science Research project. I need to speed up the rate at which I’m reading my book, Popular Crime by Bill James, because if I don’t make progress soon it’s likely I’ll need to rush through much of it and deprive myself of fully understanding what I read. I’m glad that my week was a productive one, and I look forward to continuing this trend in the future!

Weekly Blog #1: Farewell, Screenplay

Design studio this week was quite productive; during the time allotted to me I organized and listened to my interview with Julian, finding and using the quotes I felt were most important and best related to my profile. My work on this project had mostly been finished last week, but there was still work to be done on Monday, which is when I eliminated the bulk of my work. This week I also worked on the beginning of a new story, called “The One-Eyed King.” I’ll continue to work on it a little bit before I describe the plot, but it’ll be something I haven’t done before, and I’m excited to see what I can do! I’m going to keep writing short stories throughout the rest of the year, as I find it good exercise and good fun. I will probably put on hiatus the script I was working on–although I’m happy with the topic and have had fun writing it–as I feel short fiction is more realistic, achievable, and fun to brainstorm for. Plus, I’ll be learning the basics of screenwriting in college, and I may end up reading my screenplay in disgust, shaking my head at all mistakes I couldn’t have known about.

I’ve also been thinking this week about my Social Science Research project, soon to become my National History Day project. I plan on continuing and improving my Jonestown documentary, as it perfectly fits the theme: triumph and tragedy in history. I’ll continue to consider the ways I can improve this project in the future, and I’m excited to give it its final debut.

The Next Novelist: Julian Ribushofski

Julian Ribushofski is trying something new. When I sat down with him this week to learn about his Senior Design Studio project, I didn’t know what to expect. I know him pretty well, having worked with him before in a few Innovation Lab projects, during which I learned that he knows his way around a hockey court, loves his sitcoms, and is quite the funny guy. I’m not sure why, but I’d never really thought of him as the literary type. I was proven wrong, however, when I learned that his project is a story of indeterminate length. Even though this is his first experience with creative writing, he hesitates to describe it as a short story, as he has bigger goals than that. From the way he described his vision, I wouldn’t be surprised to see it exceed thirty pages; after all, he wrote five in one sitting, and enjoys the act of writing. “I don’t know, I just keep writing,” he said while describing his technique–a technique that seems to work for him.

While this is his first attempt at creating a story of his own, he’s loved them for a long time. He discovered his first love, Harry Potter, because his parents had the DVDs when he was little, and he devoured every one of them. Then he made the transition to the books, and realized how much better they were, devouring all 870 pages of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix in just over a week. All of his favorite movies and books are franchises, which is part of the reason why he’s tackling such an ambitious project.

Julian described to me his distaste for short stories, particularly those entirely contained in one scene. For him, the most important, humanizing part of a story is seeing how those characters grow and change through their experiences. “I like to see characters develop and have relationships instead of just being thrown into something where it’s, like, ‘Oh, these people are best friends.’ You gotta see it!” This prolonged character development is also the reason why he’s such a lover of sitcoms; the example he gave me was Jim and Pam from The Office and the four years that it took for their relationship to become established. Julian’s goal for this project is to capture this type of character development over an extended period.

The currently untitled story seems so far like an excellent opportunity for character development: at the end of summer, a group of teenagers decides to go camping, where one of them reveals a dark secret. While Julian initially didn’t want to spoil this secret, I got a journalist’s insider scoop: one of the friends is not human, and his race is dying. I look forward to seeing what he does with such a fascinating topic, one that diverges so heavily from his original idea. It really will be a slow burn; in the five pages he’s written so far, the camping trip has yet to begin. He believes his status as a teenager will help make his characters more realistic and “very relatable,” specifically to other teenagers, like myself. When I asked him how long he thought it would end up being, I found that he wasn’t sure, and would stop when he felt he’d told his story. He’s excited to see what he can do with the concept, and would definitely consider pursuing creative writing again in the future, perhaps professionally, or in college. For now, he has to finish this project, hopefully the first successful entry into a catalog of success.

My Interview!

For my senior research project this year, I’m researching Peoples Temple and the Jonestown Massacre in order to provide insight into the question “To what extent were those who died in the Jonestown massacre victims of mass murder rather than mass suicide?”

In order to research this question to its fullest extent, I realized that an interview with someone who actually experienced life in Jonestown would be invaluable, and add a huge level of ethos to the project. However, since almost all who lived in Jonestown also died there–and most who survived died in the subsequent decades–this proved to be a little tricky. Luckily, I learned of a woman named Laura Johnston Kohl, a former Peoples Temple member that happened to be away from Jonestown on the day of the massacre, and was able to share her story. She’s already done so many times, appearing on talk shows, in documentaries, and in written interviews. She even wrote a book on her experiences, called Jonestown Survivor: An Insider’s Look. I figured that given her willingness to talk about her experiences, she may be willing to be interviewed by me.

Ms. Kohl’s book

In order to reach out to Ms. Kohl for an interview, I understood that it was necessary to familiarize myself with her story. I read a copy of her intriguing and enlightening book, which added a lot to the project even by itself. It tells of her life as a civil rights activist and how she fell in love with Peoples Temple and the good it did, eventually leading to her time in Guyana and the aftermath of the massacre. After finishing the book, I reached out to her through email and am currently awaiting a response.

From the book and my research, I was able to compile a list of potential questions to ask her, ranging from her impressions of the people of Jonestown to her opinion on Jones himself. Especially considering that one of the core Vision of the Graduate Capacities is to conduct myself in an ethical and responsible manner, I need to respect that she went through an extremely traumatic experience and that, while Jonestown may be just a piece of history for me, it was a life-defining event for her. If I come out of the gate with morbid or disrespectful questions, I’m likely to offend her, which would not be ideal for many obvious reasons.

Also essential is that I come to the interview feeling adequately prepared and confident; if I’m not sure what questions I’m asking or I ask things she’s already answered in her book, it’ll make me look unprofessional, and she won’t respect me, likely changing the quality of the answers I get from her. After all, if I’m not trying, why should she? I’ve also researched interviewing techniques in the past (by watching talk shows) that I will refamiliarize myself with. I’ve done enough extensive analysis to know that the best interviews flow naturally like a conversation, with questions leading into each other with a progression that doesn’t feel jumpy or rushed.

Overall, I look forward to hopefully interviewing Ms. Kohl, as it’ll be a huge help to my project, but more importantly, it’ll be a fascinating experience for me that I’ll never forget. I hope that I’m able to get in touch with her, and I plan to send a follow-up email if I don’t hear back in the next few days.

Senior Year Research

Over the summer, Innovation Lab seniors were tasked with creating a research question; one that we’d focus on well into the year, on a topic that interested us. For the question to be scholarly and worth researching, there were a few criteria in which it needed to fit: a substantial research question is important, intriguing, debatable, and previously unanswered. We’ve been tasked with creating college-level questions before, especially since the ability to “pose and pursue substantive questions” is a Vision of the Graduate capacity. Since a large part of the Innovation Lab curriculum revolves around solving problems that personally intrigue us, we felt prepared and excited to dive into a question and topic of our choice.

The question I’m choosing to research is “How did Jim Jones convince over 900 people that to kill and die for him was right?”. I believe this is an important question because manipulation tactics are hugely relevant and widely used, and the Jonestown Massacre, one of the most tragic cases of manipulation in history, should be analyzed further. The fact that 918 American citizens could commit an act of “revolutionary suicide” of this proportion and be dismissed as brainwashed Jesus-freaks is appalling, and really prompted me to delve further into this largely forgotten event. At this point in my research, I have a rich understanding of the circumstances surrounding Jonestown, and the deeply paranoid and 1984-esque place that it got to be near the end.

I’m currently gathering potential candidates for interviews, most notably a survivor of the massacre who later went on to share her story countless times. I’m hoping that through these resources, I’ll be able to answer my question and illuminate this tragic story so that it may never happen again.

 

Box-Shaped Box

In STEM class this quarter we’re building projects that incorporate sound, our newest topic. My partner and I decided to do a project based on the lack of sound: a small box from which sound could not escape. Our goal is to figure out what soundproofing material would be the most cost effective while still viable. The way we plan to achieve this is by lining the walls of our one by one foot box that we’ve already made with soundproofing material.

Look at that craftsmanship.

We plan on using a few materials to test the soundproofing ability of our box: cardboard egg cartons, a variant of these egg cartons with cotton stuffed into the holes, the foam found on memory foam mattresses, and professional soundproofing foam. Egg cartons are a classic example of affordable soundproofing material; their wavy shape reflects sound in a desirable way so that it doesn’t echo back and forth across the walls. Cardboard, the material out of which it’s made, is also good for soundproofing because it tends to absorb sound. Filling the sections with cotton will provide additional soundproofing, as much of the sound that passes through the cardboard will be absorbed into the cotton. The soundproofing and mattress foam will also be beneficial to our project for many of the same reasons. The jagged angles prevent the sound from going back and forth across the room, and the foam (hopefully) absorbs lots of the sound. We also plan on testing how much sound is released from our box by doing a trial in which there is no material lining the walls, and the sound is free to do as it pleases. With this information, we will find out which material works better, but if they perform at similar levels, than the cheaper material will be the victor of our experiment, which is the egg cartons. So far in our project, we’ve basically finished the construction of our box. All the pieces are glued and nailed together for ultimate stability, but due to some complications with the way the glue dried, there are a few gaps that sound could theoretically escape through. This is why our purchase of soundproof sealant was especially useful. We can use it to fill any gaps we see, and prevent all the sound that we can from escaping. Rather than use a hatch or door to replace the materials we’ll be using, we plan to unscrew and rescrew the top whenever we do a change. While inconvenient, it’s a further step towards minimizing the amount of sound that escapes. To make the switching of materials more efficient, we plan to paste everything onto a t-shaped insert that resembles an unfolded cardboard box. This way, we can avoid attaching many different materials onto our box, and having to remove it minutes later. It also may help to further our soundproofing, as it would cover any breaches in our box. I’m very happy with the progress we’ve made so far; we’ve sufficiently planned ahead and put in our time, and I think we’ll have a better project for it.

Write On!

I set down to write my first book when I was in fifth grade, a few days after my birthday. I felt that by hitting the pivotal age of eleven years old I’d peaked intellectually, and I knew anything I put to paper would become the new magnum opus of humanity. Although I put the book on an indefinite hiatus about two hundred words in, I’m certain that future textbooks will revere the day that I realized my potential.

I struggled with writer’s block for the better part of six years, before writing a story for Greenwitch, my school’s literary club. The story, called Outpost, earned first place in a writing and poetry contest on Monday, which was the first award I’ve received for my writing. I’ve also had one of my articles from the school newspaper featured on a website called Learning Personalized, which prides itself in “giving a voice to teacher-leaders, administrators, and students doing amazing things.” The opportunity to brag about my minor accomplishments aside, this recognition was a powerful boost to my morale and has inspired me to continue what I dare to call a passion.

My plans for the future of my hobby involve successfully writing a screenplay. Although I’m doubtful that it will turn into anything, it’s the next logical step towards my goal of going to college for filmmaking. The purpose of my first story was to practice storytelling more than anything else, and now that I feel confident enough to attempt the alien format of a screenplay, there’s nothing I can do but dive in. While novel-writing may have been too ambitious of a goal at eleven years old, I think that seventeen is prime time kick-start a writing career if this is truly something I want to pursue. Whether or not I end up writing after high school, I find it’s a cathartic way to embrace my creative side while also improving what will certainly be a useful skill, no matter what my future entails.

The Magic of Sound

Sound is one of the most important natural tools in existence, and our species would be centuries back, if anywhere at all, without it. Despite this, it’s largely taken for granted, and not many people know what it actually is. Basically, sound is the vibration of particles through a medium, usually air, that’s picked up by sensitive hairs in our ears and translated into what we hear. These vibrations occur when the particles in said medium oscillate from something happening, like someone shouting. A sound with 200 Hz vibrates 200 times per second, and since Hz measures frequency and defines the pitch of the noise, it will be a fairly deep sound. The more vibrations per second, the higher pitch the sound will be. Amplitude, which is measured in decibels, defines how loud a sound will be. The higher a sound wave, the harsher it is to human ears.

 

A diagram comparing frequency (Hz) with amplitude (dB)

 

Humans can only hear sounds from 20-20000 Hz; everything else may produce subconscious effects but will be undetectable. While humans’ ears can only detect sound within these thresholds, other animals with different capabilities can hear higher or lower sounds, which is why dogs are bothered by dog whistles, even though we can’t hear them.

Human Range of Hearing (slightly unpleasant!)

As sound travels across a given medium, it retains a wave structure, meaning it spreads and can be heard from all around, rather than just where the sound was originally pointed. The speed at which it moves is about 343 meters per second, and while this is certainly fast, it struggles to keep pace with the speed of light, which is (literally) astronomically faster, at 300 million meters per second. This is why you see lightning before you hear thunder; the light travels to your eyes almost 875 thousand times more quickly than the sound of the boom.

Unexpected Wisdom in Whole Foods

There comes a time in every child’s life in which they learn that nobody knows everything. As a child, I always assumed, like all children, that adults were all-knowing, and would always know what to do. It wasn’t until I was almost eight that I realized adults could be as ignorant as children (no offense to any adults out there.) It was the summer of 2009, and I was spending my morning in a Whole Foods with my mom. I remember overhearing an argument between two middle-aged women, and being a snoopy eight year old, I snuck towards them to hear what the argument was about. One of the women was adamant that New York was not, in fact, a state, and just because it was a big city didn’t qualify as a state. The other woman tried desperately to convince the first woman that New York City was a small part of the state of New York, but she just wasn’t having it.

 

Just in case anybody needs a geography lesson

 

While this seems like a funny, yet inconsequential experience for me, it opened my eyes to the fact that adults don’t always know best. While this may not seem like a great lesson for a small child, it really taught me that sometimes, questioning authority is the right way to go. Conversely, it was also the first step towards me realizing that life isn’t easy. You don’t automatically know everything just because you hit a certain age, graduating high school doesn’t make you ready to be an adult, and parents don’t always know what’s best. Except for my parents, of course.

Knowing requires learning, and learning requires effort. It’s still a wonder to me that this geographically ignorant woman in a Whole Foods managed to teach me so much about the world and the way life works, but she inadvertently shared with me some very profound wisdom, and I’m thankful to this day.