When growing up with advanced technology and having many social media platforms we tend to lose who we truly are, to act like somebody we are not,or to be “known”. For example, we tend to follow the trends that are out and download the new apps that are most popular to feel included. It's all about trying to be relevant in the social media eye. This usually is called Dissociation because we change our actions, the way we react to certain incidents to seem cool or relatable  even though deep down you are not that type of individual. This isn’t only with social media, the society tends to be our #1 judge when it's time for us to be our authentic selves. We are so afraid to show who we really are, that we enter a state of depression or feel very comfortable in bad situations.

When researching double life in a homosexual perspective I found a website, “The psychological issues of being in and out the closet” by Jack Drescher. He discusses   of gay men and women, periods of difficulty in acknowledging their homosexuality, either to themselves or to others, and how it can lead to depression and anxiety. In the article it states:“Through dissociation of anxiety-provoking knowledge about the self,  whole double life can be lived and yet, in some ways, not be known.”  Dissociation tends to be very common when an individual starts to recognize they are different sexuality wise than people around them. Which is when double life starts to occur or even before, they act like a totally different person with a group of friends than how they are with themselves. This supports my stance on how society views affect the way we tend to see and feel about ourselves. We like to use double living as an escape from who we  truly are. I believe it's somewhat an escape route from discovery because on social media or in person we are viewed by how we interact and dress. In order to not be seen as gay, some men dress boyish and some women will throw on earrings even though they don't like them. This connects to me in many ways because growing up I would try different to find “boy-ish” looks that were in style so I can just blend in with the trends even though I didn't feel comfortable.  is the life of a trapped dog in a house. The dog nature is to be free and breathe but since it is stuck in the house all day, it will become very bored and depressed that it will either submit or find another way to get a glimpse of a fun day. This connects to my first point because we aren't able to be who we are because we are scared to be judged so we either stay hidden or break free and be prideful.

While reading through this article it made me remember I was placed in a similar situation living double lives during middle school when I soon realized I was different. I was placed in a situation where I had to act and dress like a man “should” because I wanted to fit in. As a new school day started I walked out my house and checked myself out in the mirror to see if Iooked boyish. My outfit always consists of loose jeans because most guys in my school wear loose jeans because skinny jeans  are viewed to be feminine.

“You look fine, no worries” I would say to myself because I don't want them to find anything suspicious that connects to me being gay.

Once I lock my door I check my block to make sure nobody is out so I can walk alone. I walk and walk until I am half way and fix the sway in my hips until I hear,

“Yo Lando you forgot to pick me up. Aren’t we supposed to be homies?” a friend, but not really named Justin says.

“ I totally forgot,” I respond.

“What was you doing? Trying to fix your walking style?” Justin asks curiously.

“Nah,” I said lying. I was starting to lightly panic because we would make fun of Nathan a guy who didn't care about fitting in that walked like a girl.  At this moment I lived by what people viewed me as which is why I changed the way I dressed and walked because I didn't want people to think I was gay. Yes, it wasn't something I enjoyed because I am very prideful and interactive but that was usually how females were perceived as, so I had act all tough and unsentimental just like a guy is stereotyped to be like. Which is why it connects to how our society tends to make us live by morals that aren't ours in order to fit in or not be judged.

The idea that I had to change my appearance and interactions connects to what Faulkner wrote about masculinity and femininity:“Cultural notions of “feminine” and “masculine” behavior are shaped in part by observations about what women and men do. This kind of ‘gender marking’ tends to discourage women or men from entering “gender-inauthentic” occupations.” Gender marking tends to discourage males and females who decide to work a “masc” or “fem” profession because as years go on many young men and women will look as professionals as if they have a gender tied to it so they feel they aren’t good enough or the men / women working in the dominated field will be made fun of. For example if a women wants to work as a construction worker men will doubt she is capable with leading or lifting heavy object only a man can. This makes her very insecure and wanting to leave because she isn't accepted. This connects to the scene of memory because I had to change the way I acted because they would consider me to be feminine and will probably stop hanging with me to then just bully me like they did to Nathan.

There’s always a standard for men and women to meet; there are always going to be roadblocks ahead. These roadblocks are specific to one’s gender, and we feel pressure to succumb to these challenges to our true identities. However, when we change ourselves to match the gender expectations, we lose a part of our true selves.

Frank Ocean voice pierced through my thoughts.

“I thought that I was dreaming when you said you loved me,”

I laid my back on the hard floor surrounded by a wall of boxes. Each box held a part of my life, this room held a part of my life. As moving day got closer, packing got more difficult. The reality was setting in. Watching my life packed away into boxes.

“The start of nothing,”

The bag full of things I meant to throw away but never did was finally defined as trash. A year earlier I watched as my sister things disappear as she went away to college. Now I watch as my whole family and I disappear from this apartment I grew up in.

“I had no chance to prepare I couldn’t see you coming”

I would never be walked home to here again. I would never forget my keys to get into this apartment again. My room would be someone else’s room. The door that was too big for the frame would be someone else's problem. My door had always been broken. It didn’t close all the way and now a new family would come in and probably fix it. My door. They’d take it off the hinges. The song started to fade out. I grab my phone and  hit repeat. I will stay in this moment forever. This moment where my room is still my room. Where my door is still my door. Where my home is mine and no one else's.

“This is it” My mom said unlocking the door to a house I’d never seen before. We walked into a large room. I carried the tiny piano I grew up playing in my arms. I walked up the stairs to see what would become my home. What was meant to be my room was four walls and a hallway that led back to a bathroom. I walked in and the door closed. A door that actually closes. I put the piano down and I sat down on the carpet in front of a window where the sun shone down. I felt the warmth on the carpet. It was so quiet. No blaring sirens, just the occasional hum for a passing car. I put my hand onto the keys of the small piano and played a C chord. The sound rang out and echoed. The echo of an empty room. The echo of my room.

The flaws of this room i’d come to accept. My door would slam when I didn’t want it to, my old door never did that. Carpet, a broken closet door, the sound the ceiling makes when someone is upstairs.

Change was never my strong suit so when it can go moving the effects were immense. Stages of transition always get me, the whole idea of losing a part of what used to be my whole life always causes a shift. I’m tired of shutting down in the face of change. My high school transition took two years. Two years of messing up. Two years of lack of motivation. And everytime I finally adjust to a change it forces me to ask the question is it too late? Am I too late to fix this?

The were many movies out that I wanted to see, but they were all rated R and being me, a mere sixteen year old I could only fantasize. I looked around on all the movie theater websites like the RAVE, the AMC and of course google itself for a movie that wasn't rated R. Then I found it; Happy Death Day. I was a bit hesitant because I really enjoy a good scare when I go to a horror movie, and the best scares  were the movies rated R, so I assumed that the scare was not going to be as well done compared to the movie Saw (2004).

On October 19th I asked around snapchat if any of my friends wanted to see a movie. I asked them, “Hey do you wanna go out and see Happy Death Day the movie with me?” I wanted to see it really badly because all of the other horror movies that I wanted to see were all R rated.  I was only 16 at the time so I would had needed an adult I didn't want to sit down with one of my parents through a horror movie that they would hate it. It might've been awkward. I asked the new girl in our grade, Maddy I added her on Snapchat when we first meton the first day of Sophomore year. My friend lou introduced us in the cafe of the school

“Hey this is Maddy” she said

“Are you two sisters or something?” I asked

“No!” they both said

I asked her if she wanted to go and she said “Yeah sure I’ll go”. Around 9:00 pm we go to go the Rave at 40th and Walnut. We got there and it was actually my first time in a movie theater at night with no adults. The theater had as usual, there's the classic 90s carpeting pattern, the red background and the little black triangles and yellow squiggly lines that looked like mustard on the floor.

The Movie was about a girl in college that had one day of her life repeat over and over.

At first she is confused about this strange phenomenon. She wakes up everyday in another bed after a late night of partying, a friend of the strangers and says something disrespectful about her being there. It is her birthday she walk outside and notices little different thing like a group of people having a picnic then the sprinkler turns on and they get all wet, the next thing she notices is a guy that passes out from some kind of frat hazing this happens many times. She gets used to these recurrences and she does something each time this happens. Ten thing start to get weird  a masked killer suddenly takes her life in a brutal attack again she wakes up without a scratch. She uses this phenomenon to get who the masked killer is.

The movie was fine but I don't recommend it, I was very confused but I still figured out who the murder was  half way through the movie and that was fun. I didn’t enjoy the scares since it was a PG13 movie.

Then her parents came to pick her up and I was picked up too. Later that night I asked her out and she said yes and now were together. if this is you can, you can get to know things about new people that you meet and create new friendships and and relationships with a simple text.

Football has always been very important to me, I still have a lot of memories from when I used to play. Part of me wishes that I had never stopped, the other part of me understands, and decided that it was better for me not to get hurt. Not playing football allowed me focus more on my school work. It was one of the harder decisions I ever made, and I still consider football to be a very important passion for me. I will never forget certain things such as going to put my football helmet on everyday.

A fake helmet. Not everyone would call it art, but I would. It has meaning to me, and to me it glistens in the light on the shelf where it sits. It is all black with a red cardinal decal on both sides. It has a white brim on the back that even says Ridell. It looked so real, and the memories it brought back to me were endless. Anyone else would say its just a toy. It’s not it has my life bottled up inside of it. It had a facemask on it, and even had real padding inside of it. The helmet has a piece of masking tape on it that says ‘Justin Siegel’. I put the tape their, it looked exactly like the tape on my helmet when I played football. My coach put it their, on the first day of practice.

My coach also happened to be a mentor to me, he gave me the helmet. This little helmet had meant something to me for multiple reasons. It was shiny, without a single scratch on it. It looked exactly the way it looked the day that I got it. I couldn’t say that about the actual helmet I wore when playing football. My other helmet had better days, It had dents and dinks all over the place. I had thrown it had the pavement a few times after the two games my team lost in my 8th grade season. So at least my replica helmet still looked perfect. I plan on keeping this helmet, because it will help me remember when I lived in northfield forever.

Whenever I see this helmet sitting on the shelf in my room, it makes me think about football. I would think about how I loved to play, and how I may have regretted my decision. At the same time the helmet itself makes me think about all of the times I had banged my head, or banged into the opposing player. Tough decisions are always hard, and especially when they have such great magnitude. Next, I will mention a moment that I will never forget, because it makes me think about how our team had such a geniune camaraderie.

“You can do this boys” my coach yelled during the time out. There were two minutes left in the game, and we were down by a touchdown. We needed the ball back, and we needed it at that very moment. It was third down and they needed 4 yards for the first down. A fire had been lit inside of me, I wanted to win more then anything. I looked to my left, and right. My teammates were just as angry as me. We worked hard for this moment. Next, I looked at the sideline. I saw my dad, my grandparents, and my coaches. I was too focused to let my nerves distract me. I was exhausted though. I didn’t care, I cared about Brandon. The opposing quarterback. I could remember everything he said about us, and how we didn’t stand a chance.

“Ready. Set. Go. Hut. Hut.” he screeched. The ball flew back to him from the center. I rushed passed the offensive line, and brandon was in my cross hairs. I chase him for a couple seconds. Then, I reached my hand out, and dived for his legs. I had wrapped his legs up, and pulled him down. It was shocking, We’d get the ball back, they needed to punt. Finally I turned, and looked at my coach. He looked back, and we both smiled.

The game I was just talking about was one of the biggest moments I remember from playing football. It feels like it was just yesterday, playing under the lights on that november saturday night.  Although football had such a great impact on me, I think that SLA has had a greater impact on me. This decison was the right one looking back. The experiences, friendships, and learning experiences I have had at SLA are untouchable compared to football. Football was a great part of my childhood, and i will remember those awesome moments forever. In the end I don’t regret my decision though.

Youth sports is at an all time low in participation, and is only projected to dip lower and lower. This is primarily due to the way coaches are taking kids' health into their own hands. I have been on the receiving end of a coaches irresponsibility, and I will share both my story and my thoughts on this unfortunate situation.

I showed up to the field, finally, about 10 minutes before the game started. This wasn’t good, seeing as how it was the first game of the fall season. I grabbed my bag and ran down to the cluster of fields below the parking lot. When I got there my coach looked somewhat relieved.

He clasped my shoulder and said, “You’re starting today.”

I looked at him with wide eyes and replied, “Sure coach, whatever you need.” From there, I had about 7 minutes to get ready to start the first game of the season. There were a handful of college scouts behind the dugout waiting to watch the game, to see who they would recruit in the future. After I threw a little and got somewhat loose we had to take the field. I felt alright, but I took my time with my warmup pitches just to be cautious.

However, as soon as the game started, the pressure of the college coaches started to reach me. I felt like I had to throw the ball through the catcher's glove in order to impress. This extra exertion only wore me down quicker. During the third inning, I could tell that I was starting to fade. My mechanics were getting sloppy, but I couldn’t tell my coach.  Then the worst thing that could happen happened. I went into motion, whipped my arm forward, and released the ball. I could feel tingles start in my elbow and slowly crawl towards my fingertips. My arm felt like it was on fire. Everything slowed down, and I knew it was bad. It’s amazing the impact one pitch can have on your entire trajectory.

Unfortunately this is the way of youth sports nowadays. Overuse is one of the most common reasons for serious sports injuries, and it isn’t going to stop anytime soon. Many coaches of youth teams prioritize winning over player development and health. My coach made the decision to start me and try to put the team at an advantage, but put my health and safety at a disadvantage. This is a problem that starts and ends with coaches caring about their players. It is the responsibility of the adult managing the children, however this power of coach is often abused, and the kids pay the price.

Another reason that is causing these serious youth sports injuries is the unnecessary competitiveness from youth coaches. Once you get to a high enough level in your sport coaches will do anything to win and gain some recognition for themselves. I have been on the receiving end of this competitiveness, and it stunted my growth as a player.

If these coaches can not find a balance between winning and developing youth players. Unfortunately the only way to make this happen would be to enforce even more regulations into these games. This is a shame as it doesn’t allow the kids to just play the sports they love to play, but it is necessary if coaches do not change their actions on the field.

Technology is more than a form of entertainment. From personal experience, technology can be a simple and impacting way to understand the struggles and stories people deal  with in life. Some of the stories can be about things you have a general idea about that gives you a better understanding then what you originally knew. I never had a story that I could personally relate to but those type of stories can happen. Now the way I heard this story are going to be strange to most people but video games is where I get these stories the best. I hear impactful stories while playing video games because I do LFG (Looking For Group) forums all the time for the game I play and I can get good stories time to time. Some funny, some just random talk, and then some that are just impactful to the views of life.

I’m going to tell a story that I heard over the summer from just finding random people on LFG to do something I know I can’t do alone and before I start let me just note the people I was with were all adults as I said earlier I was finding random people. The story I heard when I was doing missions with someone then his buddies hopped in the voice chat we were in. I never started the conversation as I was dead silent as I wanted to focus on what I was doing in the game. I can’t remember much of this part of the conversation but the guys soon started talking about how they or someone they cared about was going through or overcame drug addiction. I can’t remember much of that conversation as they never talked that much on it but this part of the conversation I remember as this story made me say to myself “I deeply respect this man.”.

It started when one of the guys talked about how he was in the military reserves. After he finished talking one of the other guys started talking about how he was actually deployed onto the field for 2 years then after he was honorably discharged from service he got put in the reserves and how he hated it.  “They were all truck drivers.” he said referring to everyone else working their. Before he went to leave, he researched what they could do to him. The military could do nothing to stop him from leaving as he already was honorably discharged so he quit the reserves. He dropped his gear off at the building and when he told the sergeant in charge of the place, the sergeant started yelling at the guy. The guy yelled to the sergeant that he couldn’t stop him from leaving and that he could beat the sergeant up. He then yelled towards to the men listening to the conversation saying how he went to battle for 2 years while they had no experience except training. He then challenged them to stop him. No one stood up and he walked out the front door and just like the research told him they did nothing to him. I had a deep sense of respect for him after his story as I had no knowledge of the military and I never knew that his story could ever happen, especially that nothing happened to him after. I was both surprised and amazed by his story I had to remember it. It’s stories like this that you can’t hear in your daily life unless your job is to find the most random and crazy stories for a newspaper or article job. I took a few things from that story is that even if you work for the Military and your abide not to leave there are conditions that they can’t touch you just for leaving. One thing I still wondered but never looked up is what could the military/government have done if he wasn’t honorably discharged.

Many people have different ideas about how to understand and gain a bigger impact of life but to me the best source can be just meeting random people using technology to talk to them server to server as it’s a part of their own life and in their own words unedited by reporters or editors for a article so it’s a really reliable source. LFG in video games can find you people you can get a story out of but it won’t just be told randomly unless they are seeking for attention. For me I only hear these stories after someone else or I bring up a topic the person with the story can relate it to. If you do find an interesting story don't be afraid or nervous to ask for more details as that's when you learn even more so you can understand the bigger meaning.

“So do yall wanna call it or play universe in the rain?”

“UNIVERSE!”

“Alright let's go”

I lined up with my six other teammates. We all had the same intensity in our eyes, I started to giggle with excitement, I mean this is Ultimate Frisbee  at its finest. We had a full 7 on 7, each player was skilled for the game and to top it off it was pouring down raining. My team had defense first so we threw the frisbee down the field. The other team caught it and connected a few passes. The disc gets to one of their handlers and he messed up his throw. I don’t blame him, I mean it’s raining hard and we are throwing a piece of smooth plastic around, it’s bound to be slippery. It didn't matter anyway because not too long after my team did the same.

The two teams were evenly matched. I realized that the other team had one player making all the plays so I called a switch so I could mark him and shut him down. With me on him nobody would throw him the disc. Finally he loses me by faking like he was walking then taking off. He had a good three steps on me, just enough for him to get the disc. He was fast but I was faster. They threw him the disc and using all my speed I ran and dove in front of him blocking the disc with the tips of my fingers. He drops the disc making it a turn over, our disc. I was so excited that I bursted down field and ran for the endzone. My teammate picked up the disc and threw it to me but it fell short of the endzone so I doubled back to catch it. I saw an open man and threw it but like everybody else it slipped from my hands and I threw it right into the other team's hands. They capitalized on my mistake and threw it down field and scored. We lost. For a split second I was the hero of the game but I was also  the downfall of what should have been an easy win.

After the game we gathered for lunch. I was soak and wet so I went back to my dorm room to change into some dryer clothes. The walk to my room and to the cafeteria was kinda depressing for me. I kept going back to the moment when the disc slipped out my hands. Like I can never finish. This is a reoccurring thing with me like I do something good or even awesome but soon after I make a mistake that overshadows my good making my good pointless. I wish I was like those kids who don’t make mistakes or make small mistakes that really don’t matter so I can stop making a fool of myself. The rain sure did not help but aid in putting me into my depressing mood.  I finally made it to the cafeteria and I came in to a warm welcome and everybody congratulating me on my block. It was like nobody noticed my mistake costed my team the game. They were super siked about the D. Somebody even got it on video. I still felt bad but listening to everyone saying that I did good brightened the day and made me feel better. One of my coaches/counselors came up to me and said:

“Why so glum chum?”

“Just thinking about how I messed that throw?”

“Duude! Are you serious? You made an amazing block made the biggest play of the game and your crying over a bad throw. You can’t worry about your mistakes, you must learn from them. What you should focus on is what you did right and give yourself a pat on the back. Don’t let your mistakes rule your life.”

After she said that I started carrying myself different. I became comfortable with my mistakes and I learn from them much easier.  Don't focus too hard on the bad, keep your head up and stay positive. Nobody is perfect accept your mistakes and let them make you a better person.

“Can you hear me when I talk this low?” She muttered.

When people find out that I am hearing impaired, they try to figure out how bad it is. There’s a distinction from when you are deaf and when you have hearing loss. People hear things differently than I do, but I don’t recognize that I perceived it incorrectly. When people say, “Madison you’re yelling.” I don’t acknowledge that I was yelling. Hearing loss is not something people automatically notice, and it’s hard for me to remember that I am hearing things differently because I have dealt with it my whole life. My hearing problem affects many different aspects of my life, including the way I grew up, the way I talk, and the way I take in information.

When I was 6 years old, I was placed in the class where the teacher had a black, circled microphone around their neck. I had the teachers who taught the kids with disabilities. Truth be told, I never understood why I was known as someone with a disability because I didn’t think it was a big deal. When I looked around the sunlit room, I saw the little kids around me get into a circle for show and tell. I remember glimpses of my teacher from kindergarten with a long sleeve, gray shirt on, asking me, “Madison can you hear me?" I thought to myself, did she really think I was deaf? When she would talk into the microphone for more then an hour, I wouldn’t be able realize she still had it on because I was so used to hearing it that way. I remembered that when she did turn the microphone off after using it for a while, I had trouble hearing her and couldn’t adjust to the lower volume. I felt like I should have been able to hear her. I was always placed in the front of the room, so it wasn’t until I didn’t have a microphone and was sitting in the back of the room that I saw a difference.

When I speak, my mind tells me that I hear myself in a regular American accent. I hear my voice differently than others do, and when I hear myself in a recording, it takes me a second to realize that it’s my voice. I wonder why my mind hears something one way, but it comes out a different way. When I was in 5th grade my dad, who had squared glasses on, and a shirt that said AAMCO on it and I were in a meeting with a speech therapist, talking about how I didn’t need to be monitored anymore.

“Ever since she was little she has had this certain accent that makes it hard for others to understand her. Now that her voice has begun to mature, will that accent go away?” My dad said.

I had never realized before that I pronounced things differently than anyone else. I looked at the speech therapist who was answering my dad’s question and thought about how people always say, “what” to me because they misunderstood what I was saying. I felt bad and embarrassed because the next thing I noticed was the speech therapist saying,

“It is common for kids with hearing loss to not enunciate when they speak.”

I was really confused because when I speak, I hear myself enunciate. That was when I realized that I’m not just hearing a lower volume than everyone else, but that it can affect other abilities I may have too.

Information is the key to helping people succeed in life. That’s how we learn and keep moving forward. I have learned that when I am taking in the information, or reading the information, I don’t understand it as quickly as others might. When I was 14 years old, a psychiatrist gave me a test that helped me notice how much my hearing problem really affected me. She gave me a test that showed me a pattern, and then I had to create that pattern using blocks. I stared at the puzzle and I couldn’t identify what direction I should put the shapes in. I got frustrated because it was a simple task, but for some reason I couldn’t do it. My face got bright red, and the psychiatrist could tell I was embarrassed.

“Just take your time you're doing fine.” She said hesitantly.

I was able to tell from the way she said it that I wasn’t doing it as quickly as she thought I would. In that moment, we both realized that was part of the reason I had to take the test in the first place. To actually narrow down what affected the way I learned. The psychiatrist explained to me that I was able to do a lot of things including reading quickly and memorizing things, but when I actually need to run the process through my mind, I have a slower time.

It wasn’t until I actually began to mature that I really understood the way my hearing loss affects me. I didn’t realize that my teacher was asking me if I was able to hear what she was saying not only to make sure I knew what she was saying, but to make sure that I fully comprehended what she was saying. I now have ways to work around my hearing loss when I am taking in information, including repeating what a person says to me a few times, and pausing for a second to actually give myself an easier chance of understanding. I learned how to speak slower so people will be able to understand what I’m saying, and if I needed to enunciate for anything I learned that if I bit on my tongue for a few seconds, it helped me to do that. Sometimes when you have a problem that you can’t fix, finding ways to make it work with your life is the solution.