I wrote the following journal for a Theory of Knowledge end-of-the-year class assignment, to which my teacher suggested I turn into an article for The Millennial Times. Because of the length, I decided to separate it into three different articles based on the topic. So, lots of edits and adjustments later, here’s 2016: Part III. To read the first and second part, click here and here.
The final thing I want to talk about and have become increasingly passionate about this year is the challenge my generation will face in regards to change the world, and people in general. I write this sitting on a plane coming back to FL from DC. On the TV in front of me, a Wall Street Journal commercial is playing in which a young woman teaches her probably Gen X audience what Snapchat is. She describes how to take a video with text on it by taking a video of a young man with headphones on and seemingly no clue as to what is going on in his surroundings, and then puts the text, “Typical millennial.”
To the Office of Admissions
24 April 2016
University of Florida
Office of Admission
201 Criser Hall – PO Box 114000
Gainesville, FL 32611-4000
To the Office of Admissions:
My name is Bryce Tapp, this is more than likely and in all probability a name that is unknown to you and a name which means nothing to you. But the same cannot be said when I see the name under which you serve: The University of Florida. It is the name that adorned my childhood bedroom for years. It is the name that I would shout with my father when I was a young child traveling to Gainesville to cheer on the Gators when they were playing against the Seminoles. It is the name that was emblazoned upon the jerseys of the fans who I joined to line the street before those games. It is the name of the college I aspired to attend since I was a small child. My desire to attend UF started during one of the most difficult moments in my life, when my mother was being treated at Shands Hospital for the mysterious seizures that suddenly began to possess her during my youth. I remember watching the white coats line up in the hallway to check in during the early morning hours. I remember driving past the University and the dormitories and the libraries and the numerous buildings of academic and architectural stature that began to encompass the many memories of my childhood. And so the admissions process began. I applied. I waited. I was denied.
Her eyes were nearly as gray as her downtrodden soul. Emptiness filled her as she walked alone down the crowded pathway. With each step there was a ringing in her ears, reminding her that she was falling apart- as if she didn’t already know. Every muscle, every bone, and every fiber of her being cried out in protest with aches and pains. As she got into her car and drove home, numbness filtered through her mind. Her fingers fumbled with the key at the door as she mindlessly locked herself in her room out of habit. Her bed greeted her like an old friend, offering her the protection of an emotional altar. Shutting off the light she lays motionlessly, permitting her feelings to seep through until she is interrupted by the piercing cry of her family calling her for dinner. She slowly gets up and decides which mask to put on for the occasion. Bearing a smile with a grimace of pain, she presented herself like the eccedentesiast she was. Midway through the meal, like clockwork, she loses her once ravenous appetite completely and begins to feel nauseous.
I wrote the following journal for a Theory of Knowledge end-of-the-year class assignment, to which my teacher suggested I turn into an article for The Millennial Times. Because of the length, I decided to separate it into three different articles based on the topic. So, lots of edits and adjustments later, here’s 2016: Part II. To read the first part, click here.
We began The Millennial Times about three months ago. We started without really realizing what kind of impact we would have and what kind of impact we could have, especially as the up and coming generation begins to replace Gen X as leaders and humanitarians of the world. As a millennial, I believe I have a great deal of responsibilities, including but not limited to not screwing up and changing the world. Like I said previously, our society revolves around money. Previous generations have certainly broken the world, whether that pertains to the environment, finances, or population. Without a doubt, I reject the American ideologies of democracy, capitalism, and consumption. However, that doesn’t mean I have to choose between changing the world inside myself and living sustainably and trying to redesign the world. In my humble opinion, change begins within you, commencing with education. Once you’ve achieved that, you can move on to others around you until that change becomes a ripple effect that ends up changing the very work structure of efficiency.
I wrote the following journal for a Theory of Knowledge end-of-the-year class assignment, to which my teacher suggested I turn into an article for The Millennial Times. Because of the length, I decided to separate it into three different articles based on the topic. So, lots of edits and adjustments later, here’s 2016: Part I.
2016 is coming to a close (the academic year, that is), and that means it’s time to reflect. But as I’m finishing high school this year, I decided it’d be best to take both a wide and close approach. I learned more in my senior year than I have in the seventeen years I have lived, whether it was about myself, school coursework, or knowledge itself. A lot of my perspectives have changed throughout this year, mainly because of Theory of Knowledge, a class in which we analyze the areas and ways of knowing through balanced and various perspectives, and I am learning to adapt my personality to situations that will be able to bring out the best in me. I grew up in a very sheltered home, and what I learned, I learned from parents who were born and raised with Bengali ideologies. Obviously, elementary and middle school weren’t the best places to learn about myself, but when I got to high school, I started separating my culture, my parents’ beliefs, and my own beliefs. That’s when I started becoming comfortable with whom “Azanta” is. I established my own opinions and became active with them.
Poulson is a contributor for The Millennial Times.
Let’s be honest: Life’s a jerk and we know it. How many times have you done a homework assignment dutifully only to discover the next day that it is not to be graded? How many times have you woken up at dawn only to be tardy because your carpool was late? How many times have you studied super hard for an exam only to realize the teacher decided to test you on the one and only section you skimmed through? Even so, we still hold on to Life. Why? Well, after all, without it, we would be devoid of feelings.
What does it mean to be ‘thin’? Is it determined by the infamous thigh gap, the 24-inch waist, or the impossible bikini body?
When I was young—all the way through elementary school and early middle school—I was fat. My relatives used to remark that I was cute when I was chubby (I had quite the bad temper though). I didn’t really mind being “fat” as a kid; in fact, I didn’t think twice about snacking on McDonald’s chicken nuggets or lounging in front of Disney Channel for hours. I was happy doing what I did.
But then… something changed. My mom had always told me to be “more of a girl”. I hated wearing dresses, doing anything with my hair, and having to sit still while my mother clipped my nails. I would never have dreamed that I would force myself to become that superficial type of girl that I hated so much.
In our own nation, and in our own community, it is an established fact that women are not treated the same as men be it in the eyes of the law, in the amount of money women make, or even in some homes of this country. There seems to be, and there always has been, a sense of disregard for women’s equal rights in a nation that has championed the notion that “all men are created equal.” And yet it seems that many people within our own nation seem to emphasize “men” over “equal.” This must change, and it will change, as all things do, with time and education of our people.
It’s hard to understand a domestic abusive relationship until you’re in one. Until then, you might hear about them and wonder, “Why doesn’t he/she leave that relationship? Why would he/she continue to put up with mental or physical abuse?” With pain being insufferable and the constant negativity always bringing down your self-confidence or self-esteem, someone may think it would be easy to just throw everything down and leave. I can tell you for a fact that it is not. I’ve had many people throughout my life tell me to just move away from the violence and never look back, to call the cops and escape, or to be brave and fight fear. But I can’t.