Ginger Power

Freshman year, in a word, was a whirlwind: people, experiences, opportunities, failures, and successes flew past me with each day. My weekdays were filled with going to class, studying in the library, meeting up with friends for our nightly “family dinners,” and attending various meetings and social events. My nights promised many hours of studying, several mugs of coffee, and a few midnight adventures. Weekends went two ways: they either offered the freedom of roaming the streets of Athens with my close-knit group of pals, or they taunted me with a hefty to-do list and a mountain of laundry.

Out of all this year encompassed, I had some prominent highlights.

1. Discovering Social Media

Coming to college, I was the least tech savvy person you would ever find. Facebook?Instagram? Twitter? What were those? And what was the point of Snapchat? Why can’t people just text one another like they did back in the day? Oh, and why the heck was this thing called blogging making a comeback?

Honestly, Scripps College of Communication is what whipped me into social media shape. My professors, advisers, and upperclassmen friends would always advice freshmen to remember the importance of networking. For instance, I still shudder at the memory of the scathing look my JFresh adviser gave me when we were discussing Twitter.

“So, on average, how many times do you tweet per day? 20?”

“Uh, erm… what?”

“You do have a twitter, right?”

“Psh, of course I do. It’s required for the J1010 class, you know?”

“Well, yes, but do you use it other than when you’re studying?”

*Silence*

Needless to say, I realized rather quickly that I needed to make a few changes. I’ve been told that I went to the opposite end of the spectrum in a matter of a week. I now happily tweet, post, and snap.

2. Getting Involved with Cru

Cru, the Christian organization on campus, offered a service on Thursday nights filled with worship, testimonies, and uplifting messages. Cru reached outside of Morton 201(the lecture hall we borrowed for 180), though. Because of Cru’s annual Freshman Getaway and Fall Retreat, two off-campus weekend excursions, I connected with more people than I ever thought I would. I was able to find several role models, and even more people to confide in.

Interestingly enough, several of my friends and I made 180 our Thursday evening priority, and I believe that really helped us to connect on deeper levels with one another.

3. Nights at Donkey

Friday nights usually consisted with piling on the couch in one of Donkey Coffee’s back rooms. Bananagrams, Scrabble, Mafia, and sometimes, to the baristas dismay, Kemps, would ensue some evenings, but serious cramming for exams whilst others looked at YouTube videos also occurred.

In a way, as a friend group, Donkey was a part of our identity. And c’mon, it was pretty unique. What other time have you ever heard of a group of friends loitering a local coffee shop and taking up space on the same couch?

Oh, right…

4. The Horrors of Group Chats

If a highlight is positive, does that make lowlights negative? If so, one lowlight of mine would have to be the nuisances we know as group chats. My group of friends and I experimented with regular, manually-made group chats. For those who don’t have iPhones, it became very confusing.

We then discovered Kik, a messenger app. That, too, grew rather annoying, and many people ended up just muting the conversation, which, in turn, caused more confusion. We are now at the point where we have two group chats: one is designated for dinner plans and the other is for random conversation (you can imagine which one gets muted).

5. Family Dinner

Think back to every Thanksgiving dinner you have ever had: all the family, including high-strung cousins, that weird uncle, and, of course, your snarky but loving grandma, all gather together at the same table, swapping stories, eating too much food, and more-or-less enjoying one another’s company.

For me, it was as if I were experiencing a quasi-Thanksgiving.

Every. Single. Day.

Without fail, it was the best part of my day, and possibly the best part of my college experience thus far.

I mean, look at us.

Aren’t we cute?

I’ve seen many coasters, quilts, and wall decorations with the saying, “Friends are the family you choose.” I never thought of how true that was until I met my amazing group of friends. We laugh together, get into trouble together, and try to fight each other’s battles.

Sound familiar?

So, how do I measure my freshman year? As I began this post, I thought I would end it with something sappy but cute, such as “I measure it with laughter and memories and promises and hope.”

Now, I have come to the realization that I can’t quantify it. For this was the year I found community; this was the year I found inspiration; this was the year I found adventure. Most importantly, this was the year I found myself.

No measurement could ever do that justice.

Hi. My name is Sydney, and I’m a self-diagnosed insomniac. I know, I know. I’m not a doctor, and I don’t ever plan on becoming one. In my own mind, though, my incapability of enjoying a good night’s rest gives me license to wear the label.

So, the burning question: what’s keeping me up? I guess there are a few reasons. For instance, I have trouble going to sleep at night because of all the ideas that bounce around my head. A good portion of my heavy, philosophical, and even scary-ridiculous thinking seems to happen when I’m “turning in” for the night. I toss, I turn, I shuffle pillows around, I kick off blankets, but only after reflecting upon my attitude and decisions that day. I toss some more, I shuffle pillows another time, I wrap myself in blankets again, but only after I analyze specific conversations I had that day. I think about my family and life back home, I think about where I’m going to end up in the next couple years, I strategize my course schedules and workloads. Yeah, I guess the unhealthy amount of worrying I do doesn’t help me with falling asleep.

Second, friends keep me awake. What can I say? I’m a sucker for a nightly adventure. I can’t turn down opportunities to explore parts of Athens or have deep conversations that fade away into the night. Of course, apparently none of my friends can resist night-time shenanigans, either. For example, one night was spent on College Green discussing the difference between faith and religion with two friends. Hours flew by another night exploring secluded spots on campus and taking in the beauty of freshly fallen snow. My time not sleeping, in my opinion, is time well spent: I have made some of my best memories thus far after one o’ clock in the morning.

Here’s a big confession: my caffeine intake probably doesn’t help with the sleep issue. Anybody who knows me knows I have a minor obsession with coffee and anything like it. A day hasn’t gone by without me having at least one mug. Yeah, frequently my coffee consumption occurs later in the night (I can’t say I even keep time in mind anymore).

So, maybe I’ll go to sleep tonight, maybe I won’t. After all, rest is only optional, right?

To celebrate International Women’s Day, I have decided to join thousands of women in writing letters to our younger selves. Here’s the advice I’d give to my preteen self.

Old Friend,

Each day is an internal battle. You struggle with your self-image, feeling insecure about your weight and unruly hair. You’re constantly trying to connect with people who are just not interested. You take out your growing anger on the people you love, then you feel desperately lonely when they give you space. You’re never at ease; anxiety is your master. You look toward the future with worried eyes, uncertain of what new trials and failures might come.

But why?

You have so much to offer to the world: you’re gifted in mind and spirit, but you choose to ignore your talents. You have energy and light; you’re compassionate and understanding. Don’t hide in your own dissatisfaction. Quit wearing a mask to cover your vulnerability. Stop isolating yourself to avoid getting hurt.

It is only through getting out of your comfort zone that you will grow. If you stay where you are, you will never see the beauty that is forming around you or the opportunities that are beginning to develop. Lighten up and take a leap: you never know what adventures you could find just by taking chances. After all, life is an inevitable cycle of getting hurt, healing from a hurt, and hurting others. You can’t avoid pain, so why let the fear of it hold you back?

So dear friend, I will close with this: Life is not truly about what one carries, but of what one is able to let go. You’re holding on to so much. You carry your past failures, worries, and sins as if they define who you are. Instead, carry compassion on your sleeve and trust in your pocket. Carry self-worth and sincere, unfaltering hope. Because of the load you will leave behind, you can dream bigger and brighter, reach higher and farther, and love deeper and fuller.

You’re incredibly loved, incredibly wanted, and incredibly worth while.

 

With much love and the best of wishes,

Sydney Lee Dawes

You write; you watch the news; you read various articles on your favorite news sites and in the school newspaper. You aspire to work for a major news network, newspaper, or website. Is that all there is to being a journalism major, though? Of course not! After all, we’re a very rare breed; what makes us who we are?

1. You drink coffee like athletes drink water.

Let’s face it: journalists never sleep. After all, news breaks all day, every day, and most college campuses provide several student-run publications. Our course loads are heavy enough as is, anyway. Therefore, coffee or some other form of caffeine is needed, not just to stay awake, but to survive.

2.   You’re on your phone all the time.

Yup, we’re always glued to our phones. What many people don’t realize, though, is that we aren’t trying to be antisocial; most of the time, we’re skimming through our twitter feeds to see what’s happening in the world or checking for breaking news notifications.

3.  You’re a walking encyclopedia.

Not to brag or anything, but your brain is like a sponge: you’re constantly processing new information and taking in new facts and ideas. You’re a scholar at heart!

4.  You honestly believe you are the smartest person in the room.

Well, we journalists tend to overemphasize our impressive linguistic repertoires, but just remember: don’t transition from being intellectual to being pretentious.

5.  You secretly can’t stand other journalism majors.

You sit with them in class, you discuss current events with them, you work on stories together. In the end, the fact that these people are your future competition still drifts in the back of your mind.

6.  Social media is your life.

Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn: you use each of them on an hourly basis. You probably have the latest apps as well, and you may even have your own blog or manage your own YouTube channel.

As spring break quickly approaches, students begin to pack their bags for the trip back to their home towns. More likely than not, students will bump into a few of their former classmates. Here are the ones to look out for.

1. An Old Flame

It’s nearly inevitable: you will run into an old fling or significant other. If you’re lucky, it’ll just be in passing so you can avoid awkward small talk. You’ll spend most of your time remembering why things didn’t work out with that person, and then you’ll reassure yourself that it was for the best. Then again, the torrent of “what if?” questions could also flood in as you make eye-contact with your ex, causing you to mumble the first things that come to mind. You burble, you stutter, you sputter, you flush… and your old lover looks away quickly, quickening his or her pace.

2. The Bully

Whether it’s the guy who tortured you in the hallways or the girl who snubbed you every chance she got, you will most likely see your high school bully at some point in your break. Best case scenario, he or she will be handing you your fries and burger as you go along the drive-through. Sadly, best case scenarios rarely happen; therefore, you will likely stumble across your high school tormentor at the gym or in a familiar public hang-out. He or she will try to reminisce with you about the “good ol’ days” as you look for an escape route. Warning: a series of gruesome flashbacks may occur.

3. The One Whose Name You Can’t Remember

Here is the ultimate moment of panic: you see a face, you recognize it. Heck, you even vaguely remember this person sitting behind you in math class, but you can’t think of the name connected to the face. You avoid locking eyes with the person, but can’t help stealing glances at him in hopes that his name will surface in your mind. You look up. Teddy? No, that’s not it. You look down. You look back up. Curtis? Timmy? Phil? You look down. You look back up. Oh no! He noticed you! He smiles and walks toward you. You look for any excuse to distract yourself: conversations with people nearby, an “incoming” call or text, counting the tiles on the ceiling. You feel a slight tap on your shoulder and cringe internally. “Hey there…” you manage to squeak out. You chat with this person, and he seems to be very happy to see you. He even makes references to the math class you shared (at least you remembered that!). He says goodbye, and as he walks away, you sigh with relief. Another bullet dodged!

Who knows? Maybe bumping into an old classmate could be a positive experience for you. If not, make a plan of action for polite chit chat. Either way, enjoy your break!

“We let the TV be her babysitter,” my father jokingly tells his friends when asked about my upbringing.

Yes, I will admit to being an avid fan of Disney, Nickelodeon, and Cartoon Network. I soaked in hours upon hours of animated antics every week. In fact, the Pickles were practically related to me, as were the Thornberrys and the Prouds (if you understood any of those references, congratulations! You are experienced with the golden age of the cartoon realm).

Much of my childhood, and admittedly, a majority of my adolescence, was influenced by my cartoon-obsession. Below are examples of what life lessons my favorite shows taught me.

1. “Things aren’t always as they appear.”

Many of my peers admit to not being able to watch Courage the Cowardly Dog because it “gave them nightmares.” I will admit Courage did lean toward the dark side with many of its themes. This show may be the reason I have such a twisted sense of humor, but then again, it could be why I have such a vivid imagination. From its farfetched story lines to its infamous plot twists, Courage served up off-the-wall entertainment. This series taught me that reality is often distorted by manifestations of our own fantasies. In other words, we believe what we want to believe as true. We also tend to survey a scene and believe we know all there is to it. Courage reminds us to dig deeper into our experiences and encounters, because we never truly can tell from a glance who is real and who is not.

2. “New adventures wait for you everywhere you go.”

Eliza Thornberry was the envy of many girls my age: she got to explore the world with her family, interact with people from every aspect of life, and, let’s not forget, utilize her amazing gift of being able to communicate with animals. Adventure and intrigue beckoned Eliza constantly, and she was always taking opportunities to help others as she explored the world. The Wild Thornberrys reminded me with every episode that the world in itself is a treasure: new ideas, new faces, and new ways of living can be witnessed everywhere you go.  Experience helps us to mature, and we can impact lives merely by taking chances and stepping out of our comfort zones.

3. “Maturity is the ability to learn from your mistakes.”

Because As Told by Ginger was targeted toward preteens and teenagers, the show tackled a few touchy subjects, including suicide, divorce, and even the dreaded topic of puberty. Each episode brought a new, realistic conflict to the surface. Ginger Foutley, like many other young women, matured through experiences with friends, foes, and family. Unlike many other protagonists, Ginger did not always make the right choice in the end. For instance, in one episode, Ginger stole a sign from a public building to give to her classmate, Courtney Gripling, for her birthday. From getting into a heap of trouble, Ginger learned that it is better to do what is right than to win the approval of others.

Although I didn’t realize it at the time, the cartoons of my childhood did much more than entertain me. Messages communicated through the interactions of characters within the shows helped me to understand the meaning of friendship, loyalty, family, and self-worth.

As the freshness of spring soaked into the humid summer breeze, I witnessed the start to a great change in my life. Mom and Dad were always quietly discussing my grandpa’s situation, but no matter how much they tried to maintain an air of secrecy, I would catch bits of conversation.

Shortness of breath, muscle spasms, weakness.

Appointments, consultations.

Prayers.

My mother finally announced my grandpa’s diagnosis to my sister and me. Her eyes watered when she mumbled the three letters: ALS.

Soon after, he moved in with us. The next few months were filled with adjustments: handi-cap equipment, occupational therapy, pessimistic remarks, hospital visits, support groups, and emergency procedures. My summer days were spent assisting my mom get grandpa out of his wheel chair, watching older movies and classic TV shows, and hiding away in my room. I tried to find every little thing in the world to distract me from my nightmarish reality.

Books were my comfort. I loved how I could so easily lose myself within the pages of a good novel. How I wanted to be in their realms instead of my own! But as each story drew to a close, a sense of emptiness would reappear: I was back in the real world with real worries and real struggles and real fears, and I couldn’t escape any of them. So I decided to face reality in the only way that made sense to me: through writing.

I spent summer afternoons hunched over my little brown notebook, pouring out my thoughts and feelings on the matters that pressed upon my heart. Unlike reading, writing did not serve as a distraction: through the scribbles on the page, I sorted out my tangle of emotions.

Weeks turned into months, and soon the summer breeze faded into the crisp autumn air. Eighth grade began, and as new experiences filled my memory, so did words in my notebook.

Fall transitioned into winter, bringing a new sense of coldness to my family. My grandpa’s health declined rapidly, and his feeble body could no longer efficiently sustain itself. His move to the nursing home was a slap in the face, forcing me to come to terms with reality: he was dying.

My young, inexperienced mind struggled to comprehend life without him. I couldn’t imagine not going on evening fishing trips with him or camping in the summer. I didn’t want to think about not seeing him dance around my living room and make all my friends laugh at his corny jokes. Why was this happening now?

Winter melted into spring, and my classmates began to buzz about a new chapter in our lives: high school. While my friends raved about future dances, class field trips, and pep rallies, I mulled over my inevitable loss. Where would he be for my prom? Where would he be for my graduation?

Again, these anxious thoughts morphed into words on a page.

My spring hardened into summer, and my heart hardened, too. I had to say goodbye to one of the people I loved most.

I poured out my heart ache in a pool of words. Writing became my solace: I sought shelter in it as I stewed over the half-hearted condolences of family members and friends. I leaned on it when the loneliness crept in. I fell into it when nothing else made sense.

To me, it’s closure. Some find themselves in composing and performing music, while others seek out truth in creating visual pieces. Many find the sublime in the way numbers, figures, and equations work together, and still others find their comfort in the magnificence of the natural world. When words flow together to convey a thought or feeling, when conflicts arise from pure imagination, when worlds are created on a whim, and when knowledge and culture and humanity are spread through the pages of a book, I’m in awe.

To me, writing is so much more than a hobby, escape, or even a career. It’s everything beautiful and pure and true. It’s logic, fantasy, and everything in between. It’s constant and changing, brief and eternal. It’s power and pleasure and passion and progress. It’s what separates us from animals but makes us less than gods.

Writing is a quest for truth, knowledge, and innovation. Writing is expression of the mind, of the heart, and of the soul. Writing is life.

Toward the end of every phone conversation I have had with my mother, she has told me to make sure I get enough sleep. Without fail, each time I swiftly reply, “I don’t need sleep. I have coffee.”

My coffee intake has increased dramatically since I have been attending Ohio University. Sure, in high school I was the kid who sauntered into first period with her empty travel mug in hand. I thought I had a caffeine problem back then, but now I realize that my few years of one-cup mornings were mere child’s play compared to my lifestyle now.

Because of my hyper-dependence on the popular beverage, I have been overly-aware of the social no-no’s in the coffee realm. Below is a list of the ones that irk me the most.

1. Indecisive Starbuck’s Buyers

Picture this: you’re heading over to your early morning class, and have just enough time to grab a coffee at the nearest coffee shop. You make your way through the line and are so close to being replenished by your favorite flavor of liquid gold, when low and behold, the sorority girl in front of you can’t decide between a vanilla latte or a mocha, and she decides it would be a good idea to call her friend and ask for her opinion on the matter… while she’s in front of the cash register.

I kid you not, this happened to me last semester. And yes, I’m still bitter about it. Whatever you do, don’t be that girl.

2. Caffeine Withdrawal

While sitting in my afternoon class, I felt a wave of immediate exhaustion flood over me. I sleepily looked up at the clock. Darn. 30 minutes left. Therefore, I begin my stay-awake routine, which consists of blinking 78 times per minute and jiggling my legs until my desk moves.

Must. Get. Coffee.

I glanced around the room, only to find several other students instinctively mimicking my movements. I felt a sympathetic approval well up inside of me: I had found fellow coffee drinkers.

Or maybe they were drug addicts. I guess there’s not much of a difference.

3. Keurig Malfunctions

One of the best gifts I have ever received in my life was the Keurig I got upon graduation. It’s unhealthy how attached I am to it; I have  recently gotten to the point where other people can touch it without me cringing.

For me, a hectic morning consists of my realizing I forgot to refill the water tank. Of course, that’s very petty of me, but after a very late night filled with note taking and text skimming, coffee is essential.

4. Coffee Critics

The stereotypical college student’s life force is only revitalized by coffee and ramen.  Or at least, this is what I thought before my arrival to campus. I never thought it was possible for so many people to be indifferent toward coffee.

Don’t get me wrong, everybody has their own unique set of interests, and it’s completely fine to not be crazy into it. I just don’t want to hear about your strong distaste for it every time you see me with coffee cup in hand.

Everybody finds his or her vice at some point in life. For caffeine addicts, coffee satisfies almost every need and alleviates any bad situation.

To answer this question, I must go back to an introductory writing assignment I whipped up in high school. You know the kind I’m referring to: “What word would you use to describe yourself, and why?” How I hated those kinds of writing prompts: how could I possibly limit myself, with all who I am and all I desire, to one word?

After staring at my computer screen, banging on the keyboard, and slamming down on the backspace button more times than I care to admit, I decided to seek help from a logical source: my closest friends and family.

“Hmm… I’d have to go with compassionate, or sensitive, or maybe even just happy,” my childhood best friend replied.

Those are all nice words, and yes, I am a normally happy, compassionate, and sensitive person, but I still felt very unsatisfied. I politely thanked her and hit up my other friend.

Without hesitation, my high school gal pal quipped, “You’re insane. No doubt about it.”

After a series of sarcastic comments, I moved on to my next source: my little sister.

“How am I supposed to know? It’s your writing assignment.”

Well then. Moving on…

Next up was the obvious choice (and admittedly the person I should have asked first), my mother.

“One word to describe you? Well, I’d go with either determined or something like it. I don’t know anyone your age who is willing to work as hard as you do for what you want.”

That’s it! I could use the word “ambitious.” After all, for only being a sophomore at the time, I had already crafted a bucket list packed with various explorations and dream achievements. Why wouldn’t I use my many dreams to describe myself?

I returned to my office chair and typed away a flurry of metaphors stringed together with solid imagery and specific details. Patting myself on the back for a job well done, I printed off my assignment and tucked it away in my English folder.

Class commenced the next day, and I took my seat with my paper in hand. One of my classmates turned to face me.

“Hey, Syd, what word did you use?”

“Oh, just ‘ambitious,’” I mentioned nonchalantly, although I was secretly beaming inside over my own creativity.

“No way! That’s what I chose for mine!”

What?

I stared at him for a bit, semi-unresponsive, but then I managed to mumble a reply along the lines of “Oh really?”

As he turned to face the blackboard, I silently slumped in my seat.

How could I be so unoriginal? It’s not like “ambitious” was an obscure word only found in the darkest depths of Dictionary.com. I pouted over my missed opportunity of uniqueness.

Later on in the week, I found out four other people used “ambitious” to describe themselves.

Also, I was the only one of those people to get an A.

Redemption?

Of course.

So really, who am I? I don’t think one word can ever sum up a person(as I clearly demonstrated through my entire high school anecdote), so I’ve selected a few words that I find helpful in describing who I am.

1. Awkward

No matter how much I hate to admit it, I’m just one big ball of awkward. Anyone who interacts with me notices this sad fact right away. I think it’s because of the way I flap my arms when I talk to people. I’ve tried to break this habit, but it ends up happening at some point in the conversation, without fail. At least I make others feel at ease when I go to parties (“Well, at least I’m not like that kid…).

2. Stubborn

Another thing people notice about me: I don’t like assistance of any kind. I’ve always been the kind of gal who tries way too hard to be self-sufficient, which causes me to get myself into very sticky situations, usually on a daily basis (and yes, I will most likely recount a few of my many predicaments in future posts. For now, you’ll have to wait).

3. Ballsy

My mother may cringe at this word, but it describes me quite well. My tell-it-like-it-is personality is both admired and despised by my peers: they can always expect me to say what I’m thinking (and at times that is a very, very, VERY scary thing).

4. Loyal

Here’s one positive thing I can say about myself: I’m devoted to the people I love. So don’t mess with them, ‘cuz then you’ll have to deal with me. And you don’t want that. Ever.

And lastly, I couldn’t resist choosing this word:

5. Ambitious

The world is overflowing with knowledge and experience: I want it all. Therefore, I expect a lot from myself (I kind of have to if I want to experience everything on my bucket list, right?). I can’t resist a challenge, and I’m constantly setting goals for myself.

What can I say? I’m a dreamer. I’m a thinker. I’m klutzy, I’m feisty, and I’m thirsty for knowledge. I’m impulsive and passionate, strong-willed and head-strong. Just like you, there’s more to me than what one word could ever describe.