German Soap Opera

Last year in German three we were given a project to write an episode of a soap opera, in German of course. It was such a fun project! I got a fairly good group with the exception of Runkle. I edited the entire thing by myself, which was a big deal because I’d never edited anything before. I discovered that my computer had Windows Movie Maker on it, and I went to work. I was even able to figure out how to put music in it. I'm really proud of it. The reason I decided to right about it was because I was just going through my files in the computer and decided to share it. Unfortunately it is all in German, and aside from Larissa I don't think any of you take German. It is still funny to watch even if you don't know what we're saying. I'm going to try to post the video. It's taking forever to upload to the internet. Hopefully it works, and I can get it up by the end of tonight.

Sound #6 Story

“Sir! Sir! Wait!” I ran out of the train and the doors closed right behind me. I searched the crowd of people for the tall man in his navy pea coat. He immerged from the crowd as he went up the stairs; I ran after him. I gave up yelling because it was obvious he was unaware someone was even looking for him. As I came out of the stairs I caught him turning the corner. It was easy to finally catch up to him since the streets were not crowded. “Excuse me, Sir.” He turned around. He was the most handsome man I had ever seen. He had chocolate brown hair and piercing blue eyes.
“Yes?” he asked quietly. I held out his brown leather wallet.
“It fell out of your pocket on the train.” His face changed from confusion to gratitude instantaneously. His lips pulled up into a slight smile.
“You followed me all the way out here to bring this to me? I guess not everyone in New York is as bad as they seem. Thank you so much. You shouldn’t have. I should have paid closer attention to this.” He took the wallet out of my hands. He paused slightly, contemplating whether to check to see if all his money was still there.
“You’re welcome. It’s what I would have wanted some one to do for me.” I had been staring at his face, into his eyes. He was beautiful. I started blushing when I noticed him staring back at me with a crooked smile. “Well goodbye,” I muttered and turned to walk away.
“Miss … I never got your name.”
“Jen” I managed.
“I’m Cole.” He stuck out his hand. “I really can’t thank you enough. I’m guessing this wasn’t your stop?” I nodded; there were still a couple more stops before the block my apartment was on. “If you’re not in a hurry I’d like to take you out for coffee.”
“Oh no, that’s not necessary.”
“It’s not necessary, but it’s what I’m going to do. I insist. There is a small coffee shop just a few blocks down. There muffins are outrageous.”
“A blueberry muffin sound delicious right now. I can’t resist.” I smiled and we started down the street. Was this really happening? The most beautiful guy in the city was taking me out for coffee. Ah! I felt like I was in high school again. I had the biggest crush on him. I did not care how weird it was going out to coffee with a complete stranger. He could have been a serial killer or a terrorist. I did not care; he was perfect.
We walked three blocks down to a coffee shop. It was a small, quaint place. We sat down at a table near the window and watched people go by as we talked. We talked about everything: our families, where we were from, our favorite movies and music, the upcoming election. He was only a year older than me, and we graduated college the same year. He came to New York for college, and never left. He got a job as an accountant at the firm he has interned at. I saw our lives intertwining. It was love. We were perfect for each other. I could see he felt the same way too. Finding Cole was like finding the one puzzle piece out of the 999 others that fit into your side.
I had been waiting for the catch all day. Was he a serial killer, a terrorist? Was he married, gay? Nobody this handsome, nice, and funny should be single. After about three hours and four cups of chai tea it finally came.
He looked down at his watch. “Oh boy, it is four o’clock already!”
“Wow. I only thought it was around two. Good thing none of my plans today were solid.”
“Unfortunately mine are. Waiter?” He yelled across the room. He looked back down at me. He saw it in my face: my heartbreak. He sat back in his chair and relaxed. He looked me. His big, bright eyes looked as sad as mine. He mumbled something to himself. I sounded like it figures.
“What figures?” I asked. It came out very harsh sounding. I was pissed. How dare you take me out for a three hour coffee, allow me to decide that you are my soul mate, and then leave me here?
“Figures I would find the girl of my dreams the day I’m leaving the country.”
“Leaving the country?” My heart sank into my stomach.
“Jen my father passed away last week. I’m heading to France for his funeral.”
“When will you be back?”
“I’m not coming back. I’m moving there to help take care of my mother.” Take care of his mother. He was a saint too. I stared back at him speechless. “My plane leaves in three hours. I had planned to be at the airport by now.” There were still no words. Should I be angry and yell at him? Should I be sad and cry? Should I get on my knees and beg him to stay, or to at eat come back? The waitress came back over to our table and left the check. He took out the money from his wallet and put it with the check. “I wish I could stay. I never thought I would ever find someone like you. I can’t eave my mother like this. I have to get on that flight. I have to leave” I nodded in agreement. I couldn’t speak. “Come with me to the airport. Hell, come with me to France. I love you. I don’t care. This sounds crazy. Maybe I am crazy. How can you love some one after three hours. I don’t know, but I do. I don’t want to leave, but I can’t be selfish right now.” Still all I could do was nod.
Was I crazy? Was he crazy? What was going on? I could not let him leave, but how could I keep him from his mother. Who was I? I was a nice girl that brought his lost wallet to him. “This is an odd situation.” He looked at me in absolute agreement, and nodded. “We could pretend like we never meant. I can take you to the airport and I’ll walk you to the runway. You’ll leave and I’ll go back to my apartment like none of this ever happened. I think it has to be this way.” I saw the pain in his face, and I’m sure he saw it in mine. My voice quivered. This was the way it had to be, and we both new it. We left the coffee shop in silence and headed to the airport in silence. I waited with him and walked him to the gate. He kissed me on the cheek for the one and only time. I slipped my address in his pocket; he would find it eventually. I turned around to leave. I was heartbroken.
I could not believe what this day had turned into. I went from riding the subway back to my apartment to meeting the love of my life to watching him leave for France on a plane. Would he find my address and write me? Would I ever see him again? I left the airport and turned around to glance at the runway. I heard the sound of a plane taking off. It was the loudest, most heart-wrenching sound I’ve ever heard in my life. I plane had just taken off: his plane. I stared up and studied every part of the plane: its wings, its colors, the words on it, the number of windows there were. I finally peeled my eyes from the plane just as a small tear rolled down my check. He was gone.

SATs

So I'm online looking at stuff for college; mostly when other instant decision days are. It reminded me of an essay I wrote for english at the beginning of the year. It is about how ridiculous it is that college's weight SATs so heavily. I figured I'd put it up.

Worrying About SATs

Senior year is traditionally supposed to be easy and about having fun. You are supposed to take the minimum requirement of classes, and have a good time without completely screwing up your grades. I have worked my tail off for the past three years of high school and I have a very good GPA. I want to have a stress-free, relaxing year as a senior, but my SAT scores are not up to par with my grades. How can I not be stressed when I know that I am just 30 points away from a scholarship? My infatuation with a higher SAT score has taken too much time away from my schoolwork, and I know that I am not the only one.
It is baffling to me that a test that takes four hours would mean more to an admissions officer than a GPA that reflects three or four years (each year 180 days long) worth of tests, homework, and other projects’ averages. There are many students that are just not very good test takers. I have never been a great test taker. The four hour long SAT kills me because my attention span does not last for two hours, let alone four. Another reason tests are so difficult for me is because they are timed. There are many questions that I am sure after some time I would be able to answer correctly with no problem, but when sections are timed many of those questions have to be skipped. I have taken the SATs twice and the ACT once. On all three tests I had to leave at least the last eight answers on each section blank because I had not gotten to them yet.
This summer I sat down with the assistant director of admissions at the Ramapo College of New Jersey. We talked among other things about SATs. I mentioned to him that I was never a good test taker and that my SATs are not a reflection of the excellent student I am. His response was that colleges put weight on SAT scores because they are what affect the college’s rankings, and their president, faculty, and alumni pay attention to that.
The SATs do not affect all students negatively. In fact, they can help many students get into college. There are many students who slacked off during the first one or two years of high school so their GPA is not a reflection of their more recent school ethic. Those students may not normally be accepted with a low GPA, but if they have high standardized test scores they can get admitted into college. For this reason the submission of standardized test scores should be optional: not done away with, yet not the most important factor during the admissions process.
Change is long overdue. Colleges need to focus more on accepting hard working students and less on a four-digit number.

Around the Horn

I just got home from volleyball practice. Pretty much every weekday the tv in my living room is on. My dad always puts ESPN on to watch "Around the Horn" while he and my mom prepare dinner. It's a show where 4 or 5 sports people argue about certain things that happened or are going to happen in sports. The host gives and takes away points from them when they give good and bad answers. Gradually throughout the show people with the lowest points get eliminated and everyday there is a winner who gets to go on a 1 minute trade at the end of the show. There is one guy, Woody Paige, who is almost always on the show. He's really funny. He has a small blackboard behind him, on which he writes funny little saying. A lot of the time he changed the blackboard half way through the show. It's fun coming home and looking at what he wrote everyday. I was dissappointed when I got home and it said "decorate yourself from the insdie out." Just a second ago my dad yelled up the stairs to tell me he had changed it. Now it says "a critic is a leg-less man teaching running." I like that one. I envy funny people. I can be very funny at times, but I want to be very funny all the time. I can see why that would be annoying though, because people would have a hard time taking you serious. You should turn to ESPN tomorrow at 5 to see what his board says.