Birth Control is Out of Control

The number of girls that I have met at SMU who use a form of contraception has continued to astound me. Out of the ten girls in my hall, seven of them take a birth control pill each morning before their classes. Five of these Freshmen girls have already been sexually active at SMU, whereas the other two take the pill because they were sexually active in high school. As for the remaining three, they have chosen the route of abstinence. The aspect of this scenario that makes me cringe is the fact that all seven of these ten girls have not told their parents about their decision to use birth control.

Although I believe it’s smart to take advantage of contraceptive methods if you choose to be sexually active, I’m having trouble pinpointing a time in one’s life when it is appropriate to participate in intercourse. It’s almost as if an overwhelming number of Freshmen girls have distorted college into their sweet escape from parental supervision and have made regrettable decisions as a result.

I can’t even begin to imagine what their mothers would think of their daughters if they knew that they were sexually active. I mean, come on! We are at college to get an education - not to have intercourse on the weekends and weekdays we go out.

Not so Giddy About Giddy-Up

SMU’s nighttime shuttle service, referred to by students as “Giddy-Up,” is a key component to the safety of the SMU campus. While I have used this complimentary service on numerous occasions, I will not hesitate to say that Giddy-Up has really disappointed me.

Giddy-Up is scheduled to begin at seven o’clock P.M. and shut down at three o’clock A.M. every day of the week. Yet last month when I called at 9:00, 9:15, and then at 9:30 P.M. only to receive five rings and a voicemail from Giddyy-Up’s supervisor, I began to grow very frustrated. There was no good reason for Giddy-Up to not answer their phone during peak business hours.

I decided that I would indeed walk alone across the dark and chilly campus to get to the Student Learning Center. I then saw two Giddy-Up drivers parked next to each other on a grassy patch of lawn just laughing with each other as they chatted. I thought to myself: “They’re getting paid for this?” What if I had been calling over and over again for that half hour because I was legitimately endangered?

The fact of the matter is that it wasn’t comforting to witness the one service that I have been told to depend on as a safety precaution leisurely lounge around. They acted as if they had nothing better to do. If this had happened on one occasion I would have thought nothing of it. But because I have experienced the same dilemma several times since the first incident, I’m beginning to think that our campus isn’t as safe as the students perceive it to be.

Is it Time to Rush Rush?

Although the majority of SMU’s Freshman class anxiously awaits Rush Week, there is no doubt that most of us are nervous wrecks regarding the matter. But I mean come on, when we are constantly warned that sorority girls are spying on us, there’s no question that we’re going to get a little nervous.

That’s when I ask myself: “Do I really want to be a part of the Greek System?” Technically speaking, we’re all supposed to just “be ourselves” until we are asked to join a House. But let’s be realistic, that’s not all it takes to be able to join a sorority.

Spur of the moment coffee meet-ups occur at least a couple times a week. Senior, Junior, and Sophomore girls will ask for your number and text you as if they’ve known you their whole life. Oh, and when they invite you to their sorority’s ice cream social or cook-out, you really can’t say no.

It’s as if every day is a phony cycle of smiles and bubbly encounters. No one can truly tell who is being genuine and who is putting on an act just for the purpose of recruitment. Maybe it’s time that SMU designated the Rush process to take place at the beginning on the school year. Until then, expect the spurious social interactions to continue for months on end.

Persuasive Paper Topic

I plan to write about the idea of making school uniforms mandatory. If this were so in elementary schools and high schools, parents would save money, academic performance would increase, students' socio-economic standings would not be apparent, gang-violence would decrease, and it would be just that much easier to get ready for school in the morning! This is a great topic because there are a number of comparisons to be made between the schools that do and do not require uniforms. I wore a school uniform starting in the fourth grade and wore it until my high school graduation. I am therefore able to relate to those who have and have not worn uniforms because I have experienced both circumstances. When writing about this topic I would be persuading parents of elementary and high school students. As I read about making uniforms mandatory at public schools I was shocked by the statistic I found that stated that since Long Beach Unified School District implemented a system-wide mandatory uniform policy, assaults decreased by 85 percent. The label below discusses some of the common disputes between requiring a uniform and it lists incredible statistics similar to the one I have just shared with you.

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Making Writing Exciting!

Professor Jill Walker of the University of Bergen describes blogging as an excellent tool for using writing to reflect and learn. After creating my own blog and writing a few blog posts, I have found that I couldn’t agree more. The efforts that are required to create just one post are more involved than one might anticipate. Even choosing a topic and a stance is a reflective task in and of itself. Additionally, finding a way to present the subject matter in an appealing way to other bloggers requires the special attention and thoughtfulness of the writer.

I’ll admit that I was perplexed when my English Professor, Carolyn Channell, announced that our English class would be doing a fair amount of online blogging throughout the semester. For the past decade I had been taught to construct essays in the repetitive five paragraph format, and after perfecting my abilities to affectively write in this structure I found myself being told to forget it all! Although I loathed this standard essay format, I mastered it because I was taught that it would be essential for my success in college level writing courses. This didn’t happen to be the case, thus, my initial perplexity can be better understood.

While blogging has created an environment for quiet learning and reflection, it has also taught me to embrace my writing. I no longer feel bored or restrained by obsolete formatting requirements. In fact, I eagerly await each homework prompt that indicates it is time to add additional posts to our blogs. When it comes to writing you’ll want to make it exciting. So create a blog! The possibilities are limitless.

Mandatory Vaccinations? No way.

About two weeks ago I received an email from my thirty-eight year old sister. The subject-line read: “How’s this for an update?!” I was immediately drawn in. Although we email each other at least a couple times each month, it’s rare for either of us to give our emails a subject. – But her first sentence explained it all.

I'm pretty sure my house has burned down. I narrowly escaped and just ran through smoke and flames overtaking the mountain. When I left, the fire was probably one hundred feet wide, with strong winds blowing in the direction of my house. It spread that one hundred feet in the minutes from when I noticed the fire until I had thrown my belongings together, which literally took about 2 or 3 minutes. If you don't hear from me for a while, it’s because I forgot to snatch my computer cord. I'm now writing from an Internet cafe, still shaken, drenched in sweat, and smelling like a chimney. But at least I’m safe now!

I found myself staring wide-eyed at my computer screen at the conclusion of this email. First I was scared, but then I grew angry. None of this should have happened. My sister Kim decided to move to Ecuador around the same time that I departed for college. It was the middle of August 2009 and with the recent outbreak of the swine flu and mandatory swine flu vaccinations, she had finally decided that enough was enough. As a successful nutritionist who specializes in the holistic wonders of Colon cleansing and fasting, Kim simply grew disgusted by the ways of the United States’ medical establishments.

While more evidence grew for the flu shots doing harm and having inconclusive results, medical establishments secured the shot’s usage by making them mandatory. Kim kept reiterating that most viruses mutate quickly on their own, so getting antiviral shots will only lead to widespread resistance and create a loss of whatever benefit they are presumed to give. But of course when something is deemed mandatory, individuals are left without a choice. This scheme was making medical establishments billions of dollars in revenue. As a result of these measures, my sister simply refused to allow the U.S.’s medical facilities to take advantage of her. Her solution? Leaving the country.

While I understand that Kim takes health issues very seriously, it frustrated me to see a country practically forcing people to give in or get out. I told her it was a dangerous and extreme decision to depart to Ecuador, but she would counter that she was in fact escaping from what was really dangerous and extreme. After hearing about her house almost burning down, I was left to wonder what other freaky scenarios she was experiencing in a foreign country. Like I said, none of this should have ever happened.

It is my wish that someday health care decisions can be made on an individual basis by each citizen of the United States. Until then, I will continue to look down upon the uncanny ways of the United States’ field of medicine.

A Night To Remember

"You're a fucking whore!" my mother shrieked as she slapped me across the face. "It's just a dumb hickey!" I wailed back. She shoved me angrily – sending me plummeting headfirst down our winding staircase. I stumbled to a halt. My body trembled unnervingly until my teeth chattered. Never in my life had I been so terrified. Yes, terrified of my own mother.

I was just an average teenage girl who lived in Southern California and had everything going the right way. My grades were all some version of an A, I started on the varsity soccer and softball team, and I always had an abundance of friends. I really couldn't complain. There was just one part of my life that my parents constantly called into question – my boyfriend.

You'd think that one's mother and father would be supportive of a relationship that had their daughter in a constant state of bliss, but my parents were different…

His name was Mike Eribez. And yes, he was Mexican. So what – right? Well that was my philosophy. It didn't matter that he made me laugh, walked me to class, listened when I spoke, and helped me with my Calculus homework. My parents simply refused to embrace Mike for who he was because of something he would always be – a Mexican of lower financial status.

While I tried to tell him that my parents' rudeness towards him was not based on prejudice, I knew the truth very well. So well that I chose to do something I will regret for the rest of my life.

It was two a.m. on a Friday night and I had just returned home from watching movies at a friend's house. On a normal basis I would wake up my mom to let her know that I had arrived home safely. Tonight was different. I tiptoed to my parents' master bedroom and peered through the slightly opened door. They were both sound asleep. I had no doubts my scheme would work!

Mike was just three minutes away when I sent him a text saying: "Almost here?" I quickly tore off my jeans and tank and put on a baggy pair of sweatpants and a wrinkled tee. Pillows lay sprawled across my unmade bed. It took careful rearranging and a few rolled up pairs of jeans to create the illusion that I was snuggled deep within my covers.

My phone vibrated loudly against the glazed wood of my dresser. It was Mike. "Pulling in." Perfect! I tiptoed down the winding staircase as careful as ever. An adrenal rush overcame my body as I thought more closely about what I was doing. I was intentionally sneaking out of the house without letting anyone know that I planned to spend a few hours at Mike's that night. For the record, his house was fifteen minutes away from the Mexican Border, and it was a known family rule that I was to never endanger myself by going there. I abided. In fact, thus far I had obeyed each and every one of my parent’s overbearing rules. Yet I proceeded to creep towards the front door. He did just drive a good forty-five minutes to get me – I couldn't change my mind now!

The headlights of Mike’s rusty1997 Toyota pickup were off and the passenger window rolled down. "Shhh. You're almost in!" The engine idled. I hastily shuffled across my front lawn and climbed up the foot rail of his truck. It was a struggle to slide myself through the window, but I did it. Mike smiled and kissed my neck passionately as if reassuring me that tonight was worth the risk.

We were but two houses down the block when my phone began vibrating. Why someone would find reason text me this late I had no idea. I reached for my pocket, but as I did so it vibrated again. This wasn't a text I was receiving, it was a phone call. I couldn't believe what I read on the caller I.D. screen. Incoming call - Mom. I answered instinctively. "Hello?" My voice trembled. Mike and I shared a quick nervous glance. "Where the hell are you?!" In an instant I was running up the street – hoping to make it into the house before she could confirm that I had snuck out. It was too late.

In the dark of night I could see her long white night gown illuminated on the front porch – house phone in hand. "Whose car is that? What the fuck were you doing? Who the hell do you think you are?!" She shouted question after question. My mouth struggled to form words to answer. "It it it it's Mike's car," I managed to stutter. As I spoke his name her body tensed. She snarled angrily. Before I knew it she was running down the street towards his idling truck. She was but a few strides from his vehicle when he hit the gas and sped off. The headlights were still off. I knew I was in for it.

As I tripped over each step in efforts to make an escape to my room, I could hear my mother streaming behind me.

You know what happened next…

While I look back on this night in disbelief for my stupidity, I can now explain exactly why I snuck out. I was overcome with frustration because of the way my parents practically chaperoned every minute away from school that Mike and I spent together. It’s that simple. My rebellion was nothing but a desperate effort to spend some forbidden alone time with my boyfriend. Was that too hard to understand? A sit down conversation or even a loud confrontation could have made this clear. This is not to say that my actions were acceptable, just explainable. My mother’s reaction, on the other hand, was not and is not justifiable. Of course everyone makes mistakes, but in this case I think it’s safe to say that my mother made the biggest mistake of all. Her nervous breakdown created a cascade of family awkwardness characterized by hasty confrontations and unfaltering disrespect for one another. This lasted for three long weeks.

I dealt with these family issues at home and did my best to not let my depressing emotions reveal themselves elsewhere. I went to school knowing that I was forbidden to interact with my new ex-boyfriend – and I complied without hesitation. Every interaction I had with my parents left me feeling inferior to their expectations. Their disposition alone made it clear that they had not forgiven me for sneaking out. It was as if my perfect life had quickly been turned upside down and I was left feeling nothing more than depressed. I desperately hoped for change. How to instigate change was the question.

As I stood in line at Juice Kaboose Smoothies after softball practice one day I began shuffling through different business cards and brochures sprawled across the counter. Then I paused. The one I held in my hand read: Family Counseling Psychologists Specializing in Families with Teenagers. Without hesitation I folded the brochure in half, tucked it into my knee-sock, and walked out the door.

My dad’s secretary Tammie looked surprised to see me. I smiled at her quickly as I walked into my dad’s cubicle. He too looked surprised. I handed him the brochure and as I did so tears began streaming down my face. A look of confusion transformed into a look of satisfaction as he realized what I was suggesting. Never before had my father looked me in the eyes with such a genuinely proud expression. He opened his arms and I found myself crying happily in his embrace. The family counseling sessions we attended for the next several weeks worked wonders. I can proudly say that we have never gotten along so well since the completion of these sessions. Who would have guessed that a night gone horribly wrong would ultimately lead to a family’s genuine happiness?

Living Without Regrets

When teenagers get drunk, it’s not pretty. I’ve met drunk girls plenty of times who can’t help but spit on my face upon their first introduction. They think of each shot as nothing more than reassurance that the night will be more fun. But in the morning, all they do is regret. Unexplainable bruises cover their limbs, their texts are incomprehensible, and they can’t even remember the names of the oh so many people they met the night before. It’s no secret that countless bad decisions are made by the average intoxicated teenager night after night, but it seems that they will never learn from their mistakes. Teenagers continue to swear by the rules of taking shots, going out, and preceding to get drunk as the night unfolds. But what does it all lead to? The answer is simple. A life of meaningless partying, obliteration, throwing up, and regretting what you did the next day.

The solution? Awestruck onlookers need to start enlightening youth about the importance of staying sober and reiterating the unhealthy risks of binge drinking, There are many undeniable perks to sobriety. – Such perks include maintaining an alcohol-free lifestyle, being able to feel good by natural means, having the ability to excel in school, and empowering oneself to make educated decisions. For those who have suffered from excess brain-damage as a result of drinking, the option of sobriety probably doesn’t stand a chance. If you’re going to drink, do so in moderation. What ever happened to the saying live life without regrets?