6. Harbor Seals 2026

  Dear Paris, Oh Paris. It feels almost absurd to write about a place I have never been too, yet somehow, I feel as if I have known you for decades. For years, I have gathered little fragments of you through TV shows, books and stories, piecing them together until you no longer felt like a distant city.  Perhaps it all started when I watched Miraculous Ladybug and Chatnoir for the very first time. Through a screen, I watched Parisian streets shimmer beneath the city lights and surrender to the embrace of the starry night, while the Eiffel Tower stood illuminated against the darkness.  Then came a little Thea Stilton book about you, I reread those pages until I could almost feel the smooth cobblestones beneath my fingers. Somewhere along the way, my fascination deepened. I found myself tied to your triumphs and heartbreaks – cheering wildly when France won the 2018 World Cup, from that day on, and defending you whenever anyone dared say something against you. When you los...

  Ba-dum . Ba-dum . Ba-dum . That was the sound of my heart beating every single time I lined up on the brick red track. “On your marks, set.” No sound for one second. Now two seconds. BANG. We were on our way. The clacking of spikes against the crushed asphalt of the track slowly drowned out cheers from fellow runners and parents, and we were left to ourselves, fighting lactic acid for 1600 meters on an oval, trying to get past one another. Sometimes I wonder what led me to regularly put my legs through absolute torture for 5 minutes and absolute soreness for the rest of the day.  During my freshman year, my dad forced me to join the cross-country team. I wasn’t the very best at running, and I hated running more than anything, so you best believe I had lots of fun (I didn't). But my dad had been running marathons for about two years by then, so it seemed as if he wanted to start a new family tradition with me.  Despite being on the cross-country team for one season, I ...

  Week 3: Malatown: The Best Town [9:12 PM] May 15, 2026 at approximately 5:45 PM. I was reborn. Tired and exhausted from the week I had just fought through, I sluggishly laid on my unmade bed on top of the options of outfits I was searching through desperately in the morning. The right side of my face cuddles with my pillow while my phone and my eyes are inseparable. “Let me just check my notifications.” a doomful scrolls turns into an amazing nap. For two hours. 5:11 PM : “guys im inside malatown”, Riona texts in sixSEVEN chuds , the group chat that has years worth of memories in it with my very much cherished friends.   Still smushing my face to the pillow, still in that terrible and aching mountain climber sleeping position, my eyes widened, I forgot . Now here I was, lying in my bed, debating whether to meet up with my bestest of friends, as we had planned, or to be selfish with my Friday evening. I closed my eyes to contemplate. What if it's boring? What if I reg...

                                                                                                                                                                            image  credits When I was younger, I found comfort in listening to the muffled voices of my parents’ conversations from another room. The walls were thin before—back in my old house in Sunnyvale—so eavesdropping was usual for the ears of a child like mine. I’d lie awake just to listen to my parents’ chatter from...

Five minutes into the “Pilot” episode of Gilmore Girls , and I was hooked. I was transported to Luke’s Diner, sipping on a hot cup of coffee with a plate of pumpkin pancakes and cinnamon butter to warm me up from the crisp autumn air. Its rapid dialogue and cozy atmosphere have become my second home that I revisit as soon as the leaves change their colors. Every quirky character felt like a neighbor: Kirk, the man with a million jobs; Sookie, the clumsy yet brilliant chef; and Michel, whose snippy retorts hilariously contrasted his job as the inn’s concierge.  I have watched every episode of this beloved show countless times—to the point where I have every plotline memorized! Despite this, it never bores me and I can still laugh at the same jokes with every rewatch. The town of Stars Hollow’s close-knit community is my perfect escape from the perils of school and everyday life.  Gilmore Girls focuses on the relationships between the three women who share the Gilmore name: Lor...

Choosing the perfect gift is one of the hardest decisions I have to make every year.  Should I buy them stationery from Japan? Or maybe a cute keychain I saw while shopping? Or spend hours crafting a gift by hand? Every birthday, this debate resurfaces.  The conclusion I came to in middle school was simple: crocheting amigurumi keychains (which are little yarn figures). I thought this was the best gift possible; it showed how much time I was willing to put in for them. But what I didn’t realize was how unsustainable and impersonal it was. With this new realization and the seemingly endless amount of homework, I decided that I had to change it up. And what was my solution? A standee. A life-sized one, specifically. My friend’s birthday was around a week ago, and she loves Marius from Tears of Themis . So, when my other friend and I came up with this idea, we thought it was so ingenious. We excitedly planned out how to make it, already imagining how much our friend would love ...

 Lucas Week 3 - Jealous Not So Little Boy September 23, 2026 Oh boy where to start Many of you most likely remember the new sibling Tux. With this newest child my dog Hugo has now become the middle child, and he's really feeling it.  In media, there is a common joke that the middle child is the one that's always forgotten, usually ignored because the youngest child gets all the favor while the oldest child is always the busiest. Well guess what chicken butt, there is a middle child in my family now.  Of course this isn't in a literal sense as Hugo and Tux are both pets, which changes the joke of the "middle child," but that doesn't change how Hugo is feeling its effects One things dogs are known for is how sociable they are. If denied social interaction, often dogs won't be silent about it. Even as I'm writing this now I can hear a certain husky wining in the background. This has been mostly because how antisocial Tux has been with... loud settings or ...

1. Prepare Yourself This is not an easy sport. I would consider its level of difficulty equivalent to that of wrestling or football. It’s a contact sport, meaning that in order to play, you will be grabbed, punched, kicked, pulled, and subjected to pretty much any other form of physical contact you can think of. Now that we have established that water polo is not for the faint of heart, let’s move on to the next step, arguably the most important one. 2. Learn How to Eggbeater Yes. You read that right. Eggbeater. It’s the alternating circular leg movement that allows us water polo players to stay above the water without using our hands. Most people refer to this action as “treading” water, but whatever you choose to call it, just remember that this is what will keep you upright and not drowning in the pool. 3. Make Friends This is a team sport. The harsh reality is, you will not survive without the support of your teammates—who will soon grow into your family. I, for one, have met two o...

Raie Week 3: Sunday Reset – Published 9/20 [10:43 PM] I love my Sunday resets.  A large percentage of my Sundays have looked like this: Wake up early, travel to the wondrous land of Costco for groceries, maybe eat out, exercise, take an extensive shower with eucalyptus salt, and change my bedsheets. A tiring day met with an evening full of rest, preparing me for the tumultuous week ahead. That entire ordeal is quite extravagant, so naturally not all of my Sundays look like that. However, the ones that do verily relax me and keep me sane. Sunday resets are a mandatory one-month event I must experience to reassess my surroundings and to tell myself I am okay.  I know it seems like an influencer fad or a social media trend, but Sunday resets genuinely work for me. Whatever pain, fatigue, or stress that has plagued me over the course of 6 days is immediately washed away with a singular day of rest. In a way, those days of reorganization are like an apology to my body. A...

 I have somehow turned overthinking into a full-time job.  Someone can text me, "Okay, see you tomorrow," and not even five minutes later I'm analyzing whether the period at the end of their text was aggressive. Another scenario that sends me into a complete frenzy is when, say, you and friend are laughing . All of a sudden, I'll have this invading thought: Are they laughing with me or at me? I find it very impressive how quickly my brain can turn a completely normal conversation into a full blown investigation. At this point, I might even consider joining the FBI.  The weird thing is that I don't just overthink texts. Sometimes I wonder if other people feel the same way when they interact with me? What if they reread my texts and wonder why I used a specific word? What if they thought I was being rude, when I didn't mean to? What if they replay something I said the same way I replay conversations with others? Language was created with the intention of making ...

 Lucas Week 2 - Tux the Chewer  September 09, 2026     Some of you may remember that recently I've adopted a cat. Now, what some of you may not know is that I also have a dog. When I first got my dog, a husky named Hugo, he was a relatively well behaved dog. Other than the barking he never really bit or had potty issues, usually only needing one try to learn any given rule my parents set. My new cat on the other hand is a whole other story.     I'm my cat's favorite chew toy, usually biting my fingers or arms. As Tux, my cat, gets more and more comfortable with her new environment, she's getting more and more bold with her behavior. (Though funnily enough the only thing keeping her in check is Hugo) For example recently I found out she learns things by biting or ripping them. If she is left alone anything remotely soft of rippable will be found in a pile, on the floor of your room.      This has posed as quite the issue has my allergies ...

  Eleven twenty-nine PM. I wake up with a freakishly lukewarm sweat. Uncomfortable, yes, I know. I wake up with one goal in mind: Secure a crisped bowl of mac and cheese. The house has turned into a horror game of sorts, with each creak of the floorboard giving away my presence. Under normal circumstances, my house would have been the typical boisterous abode with my dog Leo’s barks and my mother’s constant gabbing about chores and work and homework and even more chores. But tonight? Tonight this house is a minefield requiring me to walk carefully. I tell myself to be as light as a feather. To tread with caution. Tread. With. Absolute. Caution. My dog wakes up, his sleepy eyes somewhat eager to guide his owner. Cute, but his aid in my operation is unnecessary. I give him the “stay” hand signal to indicate that everything is okay. With Leo keeping my mother at bay, I set out on my quest to satiate my stomach.  Hundreds of millions of homes in Northern America use...

Throughout elementary school, the TV in my house was occupied every Monday, Thursday and Sunday. And every single time, it was American Football. At that time, I believed that the TV would have been put to better use to watch All Hail King Julian on Netflix. Over the summer in third grade, I had gone to visit my uncle in Texas, and I thought I would finally have the TV to myself. But the TV was now occupied by a different sport: cricket. I had never actually seen a full match of this sport before, only segments. But one play from the TV caught my eye. An English player running backwards at full speed, jumping and doing a full 180 degree turn and somehow catching the ball with one hand. I was mesmerized. But then the next day, India was playing a game. My uncle woke me up at 6:30 a.m. just to watch the game, but that's when it hit me. It’s for India. Being Indian had never been something I could ever really brag about anywhere, but in cricket, that was a whole different story. The I...

Dear Brandy Melville,  You’ve stolen my heart. With each piece of 100% cotton clothing I buy from you and put on my body, I redefine myself. Your pieces aren’t just items that fill my closet, they dictate the blueprint for the outfit I show up in every day—the way I present myself to the world. Every tank top you produce is so meticulously crafted, with stripes and lace lining the top, fitting perfectly on my body (even though you only carry one size). The comfort of putting on your sweatpants after a tiring day of wearing jeans feels like a much-needed blanket encompassing my legs in ease. How you manage to make me feel so put together yet completely at home in my own skin, I will never know.  Brandy Melville, you’ve allowed me to discover myself in ways I never thought I would. Because of you, I now know that yellows and pinks complement my skin tone beautifully, drawing praise from everyone around me. There’s no better feeling than hearing a friend say, “That top looks cute...

One thing about me is that I love K-dramas. Whenever someone asks me what my favorite TV show or movie is, I usually can’t think of a single American TV show; my mind just goes straight to K-dramas.  Over the summer, I had time to binge a few K-dramas. Out of all of them, the one that stood out to me the most was Flower of Evil , a romantic thriller that centers around a hidden identity. This show had me staying up at night to binge this show because each episode left me wanting more.  https://www.newonnetflix.info/info/81357268 Flower of Evil follows a seemingly perfect family consisting of a metal craftsman husband, a detective wife, and their young daughter. However, the husband is actually the son of a serial killer and is living under the identity of another person. A new string of murders leads his wife to start looking for him, not realizing that he is right next to her. As the husband tries to hide his identity to protect their happy family, his wife slowly realizes t...

My friends like to say that I am as type-A as someone can be. In fact, my personality has earned me the title of “mother of the friend group.” Anytime we plan to meet, I am always in charge of organizing—and, I love it! I love the ease of knowing that everything has been arranged by someone I can trust: yours truly!  So, welcome to your very own guide to organization, led by Amyra. Tip number one: never start anything on time. As type-A as I am, I have a history of not starting assignments on time because I do not feel a sense of urgency to finish them until I absolutely have to. It is a thrilling self-induced chaos contradicting my perfectly color-coded planner with every assignment lingering day by day, waiting to be checked off. Yet, in a caffeine rush, I manage to complete every assignment with a level of focus that can never be replicated without that panic.  This brings me to tip number two: always procrastinate in style. Even if I plan to defer my assignments until nece...

  Week 2: Frizz and I- 9/9 [4:45 PM] Frizz. What an absolutely terrible thing. She’s been haunting me since I could remember; the reason why I nearly gave myself a mohawk at the ripe age of four: to end her.  The reason why flat irons are so amusing to me; the delightful scent of a forceful down turn of those naughty pieces with the power of 405 degrees Fahrenheit. The price of silky straight hair is dead ends, and I am willing to pay. The reason why ponytails are dangerous, yet are my last resort when I am standing in my bathroom at 8:05 AM on a Monday morning, because I was actually meant to leave the house at 8:00 AM.  The reason why my mom and coconut oil became best friends in my elementary years, cooperating together to tame the she-beast , even if it meant potentially moving my hairline up and revealing what some of my friends liked to call a “six-head” (middle school would say that she was the real beast).  The reason why I grew up looking at my sisters’ p...