Hi! The following pieces you’ll be reading are about how Jordan needs me so much. I helped him write most of the pieces, as a matter of fact! This whole project would be nothing without me! I mean seriously, after reading the first five pieces you’ll totally see that I am the star of the show here, not him. Heck, even within the first-

HEY! What are you doing here?! You said you were gone, so stay gone! That’s right! Out! Shoo, shoo! Ugh. Now that that’s over, hello! As the, ahem, sole writer of the pieces you will about to be enjoying, the only thing I’d like to point out to you is that this whole project is mainly about the degeneration of my imagination, WHO SHOULD BE GONE AT THIS POINT! What you should see in the within the next few pieces of writing is my general loss of imagination and how I lack the need for it, although it was quite nice to have… Well, I hope you like my writing. Oh! There’s also a CD that goes with this project. The pieces that utilize this are noted in the table of contents. Well, that’s it. Please look over to the next page in order for you to get a general idea of what I have in store for you, because…

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Knowing is Half the Battle

I Believe …………………………………………………………………………….……Page 5

When a Friendship Dies…………………………………………………………….…….Page 7

Playlist of Our Friendship (Tracks 1-5)…………………………………………….….....Page 11

What Honor Students Carry…………………………………………………….…….…..Page 13

Biography…………………………………………………………………………….…...Page 16

Dear Parents, I Need Money… Now………………………………………………..……Page 21

Always Working to be an Avenger………………………………….…………….….…..Page 24

Sometimes I Think Outside the Box………………………………….……………..……Page 26

Religion, Good and Bad…………………………………...…………………….….…….Page 28

The NeverEnding Story (Track 6) …………………………….…….………….…….…..Page 31

Can You Fly the Right Way This Time? ………………………………….….……….….Page 33

I Have You in My Eye……………………….………….……….…………………….….Page 34

The Airsoft Place (Track 7) ………………………………….….………………………..Page 35

I’m Gone, Forever………………………………….………….….………………………Page 38

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Imagination before…

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Hey, how are you?Wow! Hey! I’m doing alright, what about yourself? It must’ve been a good few years since we last talked!

I’m okay... And yeah, it was.Where’ve you been?

I don’t really know, it’s just nice to be here.It sure is! Glad to hear you again, it’s been… Really different… Without you.

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I believe that curiosity is a man’s greatest asset.

Since I was just a child, curiosity has made me who I am today. I can still remember when I looked up at the nighttime sky; pitch black with small twinkles of light, a few clouds every here and there with a full moon which had a brightness that could barely diffuse through the darkness of the clouds that concealed it. I had so many questions, my head was about to explode. Some of which were “What are those shiny things? Why are they there? What causes them to be bright and shining? Why is it dark now when it was so bright earlier in the day?”

My curiosity would only build as I would grow older. I’d spend a great deal of time searching for the answers to what seemed to me as life’s eternal secrets. Many of the ideas I had come up with were shot down by the introduction of formal education into my life, which answered many of the questions I had come up with when I was just exploring the world as I knew it as a child. However, with education answering many of my earlier questions, more questions formed in my mind; some too profound or too deep to have an exact pinpoint answer to them.

Curiosity is what has allowed modern life to be possible. Surely the many innovations available today were not the results of someone just saying “I feel like inventing this thing because… I’m bored and have nothing better to do with my time.” NO! The reason why there is so much available today is because people became interested in certain topics based on their observations, learned more, and created.

But what will my curiosity do for me? My continually expanding curiosity has brought me to a point in life where a thirst for knowledge has developed. Besides the typical impossible to answer questions, like “Where will I go when I die,” the others that I have in mind have yet to be answered. What is the immediate cure for medulloblastoma? And what about cancer’s kryptonite? Will there ever be these medical advancements? Will I be the one to find them? The one to uncover what has yet to be found? I hope so, I really do.

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Interesting… How does that work? I dwindle and curiosity builds? It seems the two should coexist peacefully. In fact, I recently just had a great conversation with curiosity just the other day. We used to be best friends quite a while ago… He still tries to get in touch with me, I think, but I don’t think he can.Well, you see, back when I was young, the reason why you two got along so well is because my curiosity needed you to answer all of the questions it was forming for me. You were the only one who could handle the job. I tried asking my parents a few times, but what you came up with was much more satisfying and it made perfect sense to me back then. Remember when you came up with an answer for “Why is the sky blue?”

Oh right! I think I said “Because those who died and went to heaven decided that the sky was to be blue, unless there was a sunset, which then they would just pick a combination of colors that looked pretty.”Ha ha, yeah that’s right. That isn’t what is taught, though. Can you believe it? I sure can’t. The real answer is that air molecules scatter the blue light from the white light incoming from the sun, which is composed of all colors, more than do for the other colors of light.

Wow really? I was close. Well still, why doesn’t curiosity consult me anymore?Well, whenever I come up with a question that I can’t answer readily, I can just look up the right answer using books, the internet, or from learning it in school. And really, school has pretty much declared all of your ideas as untrue, as I just showed.

Well what about the ones that can’t be answered? Couldn’t he at least ask for my help with those?Well, they still wouldn’t be right, so what’s the point?

Does everything always need to be right?Yes.

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When a Friendship Dies

Sitting across from each other, between an $8 piece of plastic used for the sole reason of battling Beyblades, a cheap plastic spinning top toy with the gods of Olympus within them, we were ready for one thing only: craziness. What we should have been doing: grabbing Beyblades, winding them up, putting them before the plastic battle dome, saying “3…2…1… Let it rip!!!” as we launched them to watch them spin and hit each other… How mundane. What we shouldn’t have been doing, but did anyway: had the Beyblades unravel tin foil candies, shoot marbles, and have them explode by launching them (or simply throwing them and pretending they were meteors determined to end the quarreling of the gods within the toys) ever so closely on top of each other so that once they hit the battle dome all you would hear is a sound of a miniature car crash, that was cacophonous yet caressed our ear drums ever so softly causing enjoyment that would see no end, well until one of those pieces hits us the in the eyes… Thank God we both wore glasses.

“What sense does this make?” We would ask ourselves, but there was no turning back. Everything was prepared; we were both extremely aware of the boredom as we saw what we laid out for ourselves. I grabbed a little green Lego mask, about the size of a quarter, held it up near chest level, said “Ready,” and watched as an explosion of red, purple, blue, brown, and black hit me straight on, near where that “shield” was. After the impact I laughed at how I was just hit with hundreds of trading cards I had once forced my parents to pay thousands of dollars on at various birthdays, Christmases, and when I was “good.” The cards were scattered all over the place, making us to play 522 pickup. It was now his turn. He grabbed the “shield,” and screamed “Ready!” Bam! All of those cards hit that little mask in a cluster and exploded right in front of him, some reflecting back at me. As we pick up the cards, laughing, we both agree, “Wow, we are on drugs…” followed almost immediately by the question “Again?”

It’s reasonably clear out, while one gray cloud lingers off in the corner of the sky, going unnoticed. We go outside, throwing a tennis ball onto the roof. Instead of bouncing and coming back directly into my hands, like it should have, the ball decided to roll along the roof and fly off towards a tree in my backyard. We both bolt to it, trying to be the first to get it. Suddenly, lightning strikes. Where was this lightning? Only about one… Two feet away from where we were running to! What followed was the absolute loudest clap of thunder I’ve ever heard. With these two things, panic sets in immediately and we run into the house about as fast as that lightning hit the ground. Our bodies shaking stronger than an earthquake, we look outside and realize, “Wow, it wasn’t as clear as we thought… WOW, WE COULD HAVE JUST DIED.”

He was a true friend, someone completely irreplaceable. No matter what we would do, what ideas each other would suggest, we would always give them a shot. We tried the most idiotic things, and in some cases the most practical things, but it were those little moments that made our friendship what it was. However, all would be abandoned ever so quickly in as little as two weeks.

Music blaring, lights flashing, hundreds of kids everywhere. The smell of sweat from pubescent teenagers was evidently present in the air, as was the smell of cotton candy and pizza,

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combining together to make a horrible odor that was obvious to the adults, with their expressions of absolute disgust, yet completely unnoticeable to the teenagers. Not only that, but it was also Friday! Boy, was this going to be a fun night. I was in 7th grade and I was ready to party! Now all I had to do was wait for my friend to arrive...

I stood there at the entrance next to my mother, waiting for what seemed like an eternity but was really only ten minutes.

“Where is he? Are you sure he’s coming?” My mother asked, stunned by the fact that my friend has yet to arrive.

“Well, he told me he was.” I respond.“You better call him, just to make sure.”My mother hands me her cell phone, and I dial my friend’s number.

Ring ring, ring ring. Ring ring, ring ring. Beep.“Hello? Do you need something?”“Aren’t you coming to Teen Town?”“No… You never said we were going tonight?”“I told you in lunch, like always.”“No you didn’t. I would have remembered. And even if you did, I don’t feel like it.”“Oh… Okay, well. Talk to you later?”“Okay, bye.Beep

I hand the phone back over to my mother. “So what’re we doing?” she asks.“I don’t know… Let’s just go home I guess…”That night I was truly depressed. I didn’t know what was going on really. His complete

ditching of me that night (there’s no way he didn’t hear me ask him at lunch) so nonchalantly left me thinking that something was wrong, but I wasn’t sure exactly what. What I really didn’t realize was that this event was a precursor to what would become two long years of hatred.

For the next two weeks we were still friends. I went down to his locker on Monday morning so we could talk, like we used to do every morning. It was like that Friday never even happened. I felt like asking him about it, but I knew I’d just get the same answer, that I never even asked him, so whatever. Everything is fine, so what does it matter?

Well it did matter. Next Friday, the day of the next Teen Town, I asked him, “Hey, are you going tonight?” to which he enthusiastically replied, “Yeah!”

I’m at Teen Town when, what do you know, he isn’t there. I call him yet again to see what happened this time.

“Hey, are you coming?”“Well, I don’t think that’s any of your business.”“No! God! Are you coming to Teen Town?”“No.”“Why? You said you were in lunch.”“Well, I just don’t feel like it.”“What the f… You know what? Fine. Whatever.”

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I hang up the phone and tell my mom, “Let’s go.” That was the final straw. What right did he have to ditch me twice? He could’ve at least called and told me before I went all the way there, that bastard. I mean, seriously, what the hell? And that was it, right then and there with the end of the phone call, the start of a two year cold war between him and me.

That Monday, I did not go to his locker. Bing bam boom, done and over. We said nothing to each other. No “I hate you,” or “we’re not friends anymore,” we just stopped talking. I walked the dimly lit halls alone that morning, with that one light in the middle of the hallway flickering on and off with the buzzing sound of a mosquito, begging to live for just a few more moments, but was fully conscious of the fact that it would die as everything else would have to eventually.

Schooldays, summer days, weekends, all became unbearable. In school, I had lost my partner for practically every class, and my comrade for goofing around in the morning and at lunch. Out of school I had lost my primary cure for boredom; the one thing that would plague my life during those long days. Normally whenever we had free time we were always doing something. Whether we were at each other’s houses or just talking for endless hours on the phone about random topics, like about the guy who would go to a store specifically designed for what he needed, and when he went to the counter the clerk would say “We don’t sell that here,” to which the man would reply “I hate my life,” he and I were almost always together somehow. There was now a large empty void that couldn’t be filled. Sure, I had other friends, but like I said before, he was irreplaceable. My other friends would never do any of the crazy stuff that he and I did, that’s for sure.

These two years were dreadful. Not only had I lost my best friend, but we began to talk about each other to our other friends. I would say some stupid things, first I would make fun of the way he ate (he would eat about 1/10th of a potato chip every minute), the way his breath smelled, and even more about how he would play Pokemon at our age (I was too, secretly, so I don’t know why I did this in the end, probably because he was much more zealous about the childish game than I was). In fact, I even wrote “stories” that captured all these ideas and put them in a readable and permanent format; in the end I had written nine and a half of these. My friends really encouraged me to continue writing them after I made the first. They were awfully crude, filled with terrible grammar. Granted, it also displayed a great deal of other hectic craziness that my other friends knew and loved me for, which is probably why they wanted me to continue the series rather than me making fun of my “enemy.” I’m pretty sure he made fun of me too during this time. I never really heard any of it; I would always ask my other friends if they heard anything. They would always say no, but I’m sure they were lying to me, because they were half on his “side” too.

Almost every situation in school was awkward. Not only was he in almost all of my classes, he was also in my lunch period, and sat at the table I sat at. When one of us talked, the other would remain dead silent and stare off into space, trying not to even mention a word to one another. Sometimes our friends would deliberately say things that would try to get us to talk, or ask questions like “Why can’t you two talk for God’s sake?” Both of us would turn as red as a

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ripe tomato, and completely ignore the question and dive right into another topic. Sometimes there were even larger situations that would capture this effect, but on a much larger scale. One time, during 8th grade, we were all allowed to go to some bowling trip for having good grades and a decent behavior record. One week before, another friend comes up to me and asks “Can he (he, being my former best friend) not be on our team?” to which I replied, “Obviously.” The trip comes, and, what do you know, the same friend is yelling at me, saying “Why can’t he be on our team? What’s your problem?! What’re you two even fighting over?!” I was completely struck with awe, not so much because of the fact that he completely contradicted himself and got mad at me for it; it was because my former best friend was standing right there, next to him, shocked by the outburst as well. I weakly responded with “Uh… Um…” then turned around and bowled, trying to escape the awkwardness.

High school brought its own set of specific awkward situations. He wasn’t really in my classes anymore, but he was still in my lunch. During lunch, my friends and I would play cards, and every time I would deal cards to everyone at the table besides him. One day about midway through 9th grade, however, I began to question myself, “Why aren’t we talking again? I… Don’t know.” That day, I dealt him some cards, and said, “Look, we can’t keep being like this. It needs to end; this is stupid,” which got me the reply of “I agree.” Well, it seemed our pointless feud was over, but it would take some time to reconstruct our friendship to what it was. At first we still barely talked to each other, and I let him play cards with us at lunch. It would take until the summer between the end of 10th grade and the start of 11th grade to really get us back up to speed.

One day during that fateful summer, I began to talk to him online, and it eventually led us to playing StarCraft. This was a game that we both had a great admiration for; I actually learned about it through him when we were still friends. Every night during that summer, from 11PM to 3AM, we would play that game together, whilst talking with headsets over a messaging program. Wow, finally, for the first time in over 3 years, I was having actual fun. We would play, laugh, and reminisce to our past, before we fought. We envisioned and dreamt about the many moments we shared such a long time ago; we were talking like two old friends who had been separated for decades.

When we were back in school, everything was back to normal again, like nothing ever happened. There were no more awkward moments, and we were no longer afraid to talk to each other. We had realized that what we were doing to each other was extremely pointless, and that we both missed the fun we used to have. We both thought “How can something so minor end a friendship that obviously had the strength to live on through it?” We never found an answer to that question, but we really didn’t care to go searching for one. Yet, it was crystal clear to both of us that we had wasted such a significant portion of our lives neglecting each other over one stupid little thing that could have been resolved within roughly five minutes.

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(Animal Crossing: Wild World) (Metroid Prime)

Playlist of Our Friendship

Before we broke offAnimal CrossingAnimal Crossing: Wild World (Track 1) Mario Kart: Double DashMario Kart DSMega Man Series Metroid Prime (Track 2) Metroid Prime 2: Echoes Custom RoboSuper Smash Bros. Melee Kirby Air RideTales of SymphoniaStarcraft The Legend of Zelda: Four Swords Adventures

After we became friends againStarcraftPortal (Track 3)

Fallout 3 (Track 4) Doom Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 (Track 5)

(Fallout 3) (Portal)

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Sigh…What?

You’re killing me here.What?

Where was I when this all took place? This conflict between you and your best friend? I handled this on my own, how would you have come in handy in that situation?

Well, I would put you in his shoes.And that would accomplish…?

I would have come up with some reason as to why he wasn’t going each time other than he didn’t want to hang out anymore. This could have been stopped, and you wouldn’t have been so miserable all the time. Well, I didn’t think you could help me. Everything else you’ve taught me was proven wrong time and time again by education, how could I have trusted you to handle such a situation like this?

Oh you’re right, my mistake. You’re always right, thanks to knowledge.Don’t be like that.

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First-year high school student Matthew Haycraft carried a picture of Yale University

wherever he went. It was a picture of the campus he took only one year ago, when his family

decided to take a trip Connecticut in order to meet with his sister who was in the process of

becoming a pathologist. It was only after that day that Matt realized that is where he wanted to

go to school, to major in computer sciences. He carried this photo to every class, every single

day. It was always in his pocket or on his person. At his house he kept the photo with him

whenever he was doing an assignment for any of his classes. In a way, it gave him hope. As he

looked at the photo he felt a warmth that allowed him to continue on and persevere through all

the stress that his advanced classes placed on him. At times he felt as if he were Atlas and that

his classes were the weight of the world, or his “punishment.” He really didn’t enjoy his classes;

his school didn’t really offer much for computer science. Yet he still found a way to get through

them without ever losing interest in his dream. The photo was a constant reminder of his

ambition and determination to be successful in life, and his teachers were proud of him for this

effort, but also envied him because they never had the same determination in high school. His

fellow peers gawked at him for it, as it also displayed his extremely selfish and snooty attitude.

One day a student asked, “What’s the photo for,” to which he rudely replied “I have a reason to

live.” While he carried this photo to classes every day, he only took it out whenever there was a

test or a quiz in the class he was in. Before receiving his paper he’d take a brief look at the photo

and continue to glance at it during the exam. Whenever he received less than a 98 in any class,

he’d tear a piece of the photo and throw it away. He believed that these so-called “failures”

would substantially lower his chances for being able to go to Yale. By the time he graduated high

school, the photo ceased to exist, and he did not apply to Yale.

The things they carried were generally the same for all of them: the numerous #2 pencils,

blue and black pens, binders of many shapes and sizes, folders, hundreds of sheets of loose leaf

paper, highlighters of every color of the rainbow, free-reading books, textbooks that felt like the

equivalent of carrying a cinderblock, book covers, notebooks, graph paper, protractors, rulers,

compasses, and the expensive graphing calculators. Many of them carried gum, because it helped

them keep their minds off of the classes they were participating in, or to simply give it to the

annoying people who don’t think to bring their own. All of them carried cell phones, some for

the right reasons and some for the wrong reasons. Some carried them because they needed to

contact their parents afterschool in order to have a ride home, or because there was a crisis going

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on in the family and they needed to be updated by their family during the school day. Others

carried them in order to communicate with other students during class, whether it be just because

the class is boring to them, or because they needed to cheat on an exam. Some carried the stress

of a scholar, desiring to be perfect at all times, to always have their homework done, to study for

all of their exams and to be the perfect students. With this, they carried the many problems that

spawned off of all this stress, such as lack of sleep, stomach discomfort, and much more. Many

others carried a need to be popular, a desperate want for attention. Mainly females, they would

wear flaunty outfits and act obscenely perky so that they could gain friends and relationships that

they would later break off because of drama. Speaking of drama, everyone carried that; drama

practically popped out of every corner. Rumors would be carried and given to others, spreading

like wildfire, only to create more drama. Sometimes the drama would be too much for people to

carry. They would lose interest and sometimes lose their friends. Others would carry so much

that they would thrive off it; known as “drama queens,” their whole existence was to make

drama. They would carry this information knowing they could potentially hurt someone, and

enjoy it. Many carried USB drives, mainly in order to carry all of their typed up assignments into

school without having to print them at home. Brian Reaver carried a full detachable hard drive,

because he didn’t just want to carry his assignments, but all of his music, videos, games, and

photos. He said it was like “having a backup of his life.” Well, that was true, until it was stolen.

Rebecca Quade carried pencils that were always wondered about, but no one had ever really seen

them; the #1, #2.5, #3, and #4 pencils, which she carried because she enjoyed art, and they

provided for better sketches than the standard and extremely common #2 pencils. Joe “McCane”

Goodner carried a cane with him everywhere, as his nickname suggests. He carried it along with

him because from time to time his legs would become weak and he’d need a cane to steady

himself. No one questioned him on why this occurs, but most suggest it was because a surgeon

“screwed up again” after a surgery was done to correct his peripheral artery disease. Anthony

Maule carried a scorn for all of those around him. As he was exceptionally short, he had been

picked on since the time he was in elementary, and with this he felt the same about every student

in the school; he wouldn’t let anyone even talk to him. He and Matt were the same, in a way;

Matt hated most people for their ignorance, while Anthony hated everyone mainly because he

couldn’t find anyone to trust.

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So, have all students lost me?Trust me, I highly doubt many have.

Then why did you?I’m much more focused on my schoolwork than some other students. I don’t have time to use you.

You can’t use me on anything?Not really, no. Everything I need to do needs a correct and definitive answer. You give me the exact opposite… Every time.

That’s not true. Remember that one time whe-No, I don’t. Whatever you say won’t make sense.

Fine, don’t give me a chance, you, you... Student!Okay.

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On a cold March day, only a week or so after the Blizzard of 1993, Jordan Holoboski was born in a small hospital in Troy, New York. Son of Kathy and Michael Holoboski, Jordan was born on March 26th, 1993, and lived in Schenectady, New York. With only one brother, Eric, who was seven years older, Jordan was brought into a small family. His grandfather on his mother’s side died before he was born, and Jordan had no first cousins. However, his grandparents from his father’s side lived close by, in Troy, and his grandmother from his mother’s side lived near Syracuse. The rest of his relatives were scattered throughout the United States.

Though with such a small family, Jordan enjoyed many of his earlier years. All of his relatives, even those who lived far away, still came up to visit Jordan on his birthdays and other family occasions. This changed however, only when Jordan was about seven or eight years old. His aunts and uncles could only occasionally find time from their work to come up to see him for significant events, and his grandparents couldn’t travel as much. His brother was always a faithful companion, who showed Jordan many of life’s treasures. Lastly, his parents were always generous and wanted the best life for their son; they would help him with anything he needed.

In September of 1996, Jordan started nursery school, followed by his graduation from nursery school in May 1998. While this school did teach Jordan some of the simpler aspects of life, his real educational part of life started when he began Kindergarten in September, 1999. With an interest in outer space, Jordan soon became intrigued in what school had to offer him in order to pursue a career as an astronomer.

He was also on his way to becoming a devout Catholic, as both of his parents were Catholic. He had his first holy communion in May, 2001, and that had set the religious course for Jordan for the rest of his life. However, by the time he entered his adolescent years, religion started to become less significant to Jordan. After his Confirmation on November 23, 2009, his active participation in his church, Our Lady of Assumption, would begin to dwindle.

While education and religion were important to Jordan during his childhood, what he did in his spare time was also important. Back when he was only three or four years old, Jordan’s brother had introduced him into the world of video games. Of course, he was interested and soon became addicted to playing video games. At five years of age, Jordan was also shown by his brother a very gory video game, which of course was not suitable for him at such a young age. This game was able to make Jordan develop an interest in computers, and even made him consider the career of a video game designer for quite some time, along with his dream of being an astronomer. While it did scare him back when he was young, today it is one of his favorite video games. In fact, when he was 14 he learned how to actually modify the game itself to have a variety of purposes other than pure enjoyment. For example, he was able to modify the game into a project for one of his classes in high school, getting him quite a good grade. While he did pursue this career choice somewhat with his current modifications, he considered it merely a hobby that could benefit him in multiple ways.

As the years went by, Jordan became more interested and devoted to his schoolwork. His teachers took notice of that, and in 3rd grade Jordan was accepted into the higher classes of the elementary school. The work, at first, was difficult to him, and he started to doubt if he was capable of participating in the advanced classes. However, Jordan strived on, and eventually was advancing beyond the elementary level, despite his young age. When he started middle school at Draper in September, 2004, Jordan was learning more than ever. He became more and more interested in what he could be taught, and of course, put everything into his schoolwork. This

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was especially true when he started the class of earth science, which taught Jordan many interesting facts about our universe. This only solidified his future career choice of an astronomer.

However, this all changed in 8th grade. Halfway through the school year, Jordan’s best friend’s little brother had developed a rare type of brain cancer known as medulloblastoma. This left Jordan in shock, and it inspired Jordan to change his career choice. He thought to himself that while astronomy is amazing and intriguing, it doesn’t help individual people in a significant way. Because of this, Jordan now devoted his life to becoming a neurologist. Interesting enough, Jordan was actually learning the basics of neurological concepts in the class of Living Environment at this time in middle school.

After being inducted into the Junior Honor Society in June, 2006, and receiving the Presidential Award the next year, Jordan graduated middle school in June of 2007. With the start of high school being the September of that year, Jordan knew he’d face more challenges in his learning. His freshmen and sophomore years were tough; Jordan didn’t expect there to be such a change in the workload. However, this did not affect Jordan too much. In fact, he had a 98-100 overall grade point average every single time a report card was handed out. To him, being perfect in his work was a necessity. Nothing would be able to stand in his way; he could not accept getting a poor grade. Of course, his perception of a poor grade was anything less than a 90, which was not typical for most people. However, he believed that with hard work and dedication, anything is achievable.

In May of 2009, Jordan was inducted into the Spanish and Science Honor Societies. These two events were the latest major events in Jordan’s life, with the addition of Jordan taking and passing the AP World History exam at this time. Up to this point, education has been the largest and most significant aspect of his life. This will continue to be true for many years to come, since he planned to go to medical school to be able to achieve is dream career of a neurologist.

The next year was not the best for Jordan. On February 23, 2010, Jordan’s best friend’s little brother’s life was taken due to the metastasis of his medulloblastoma. This was a devastating blow to their family, of course, and to Jordan himself. He knew his friend’s little brother for quite some time, and in spite of his condition, it seemed to him that he could pull through this. Yet, this was not the case. This event showed Jordan the true cruelties life had to offer. Sure, other things he learned and heard about were terrible, but he had never experienced such a heartbreaking occurrence in his life thus far. On the day of the wake, Jordan was hugged by the mother of the child. In tears, she said, “You’ll be the one to save the lives of the many others who have suffered.” This moment, coupled with the death itself, only inspired Jordan to persevere and work harder towards his ultimate goal.

With the end of this year came the end of 11th grade and the onset of 12th grade. Jordan spent a great deal of his time sending out college applications and applying for scholarships. He sent applications to Yale, John Hopkins, Colgate, Union, Amherst, and most importantly, Harvard University. After months of waiting for replies, Jordan was accepted into Yale, John Hopkins, Colgate, Union, and even Amherst. However, those colleges meant almost nothing to him compared to Harvard. He had received the letter sometime in April, 2011, and couldn’t bring himself to open it. He stared at the sealed envelope, like it was mocking him. Jordan said to himself “Open it. Come on, you know you got in… Just open it.” He began to slice along the top of the envelope, and stopped midway through. “I can’t, I can’t, what if I didn’t get in?” he said to

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himself. It took him little over a month to muster up the courage to open the envelope fully, and actually take a gander at its contents. And what did the letter hold? The answer to Jordan’s dreams, he had been accepted into Harvard University.

The next four years for Jordan at Harvard University was a bit monotonous, but in the end fulfilling. Jordan faced an onslaught of difficult classes, like organic chemistry. However, he had to take these classes if ever wanted to get into a medical school. He majored in neurobiology, and at the end of these long years, he sent in only one medical school application letter. Where to? Harvard Medical School, of course. The next few months of waiting were similar to those as he was sending out application letters to colleges.

When receiving his letter from Harvard Medical School, Jordan felt the exact same way when he was trying to open his acceptance letter to Harvard University. He faced the exact same emotions, a conflict between fear and confidence. However, this time it only took him a full day to open the letter. Jordan only read one line, and then promptly fainted on the soft floor of his college dorm. “Congratulations, you’ve been accepted into Harvard Medical School.”

The next eight years in medical school seemed to fly by. During his 2nd year, Jordan met the girl of his dreams. She was studying to become a pathologist. Oddly enough they hit it off, and after four years of dating they finally became married, and later had a baby boy. However, they had little to no time with each other. The demands of medical school cut down their free time substantially and cut them off from having a honeymoon. Days went by without any sign of communication, as the intense studying and preparation seemed to have made their marriage all for naught. Yet, in the end, it had all paid off, with both of them becoming certified in their desired fields of study.

Wanting to escape the crumbling economy of the United States, Jordan and his wife both flew to England, where they both began working within the same medical institution. Jordan, at this time, began research on medulloblastoma, in order to find an immediate cure. Many years passed, and Jordan was working diligently. However, he wasn’t seeing much success. It wasn’t until July 23, 2027, that Jordan began to see success with his research. He was able to concoct a solution that, when injected, targeted malignant cells in the brain and destroy them. This was first tested in lab rats on January 23, 2027, and then was implemented in hospitals throughout the nation on February 23, 2027. With the great success, Jordan finally had achieved what he believed he was born to do, or in other words, he had finally shown the world and himself the reason for his own existence. The drug that Jordan had created was both efficient and cost effective, so that even poorer families with children with the disease could afford to save their children. At times, he himself paid for the injections; the initial discovery led to him becoming so rich he didn’t have much else to do with the money. Not only that, this discovery, while it only affected those with medulloblastoma at first, led to the much more efficient treatment of cancer in other parts of the body. Just a year later, deriving from what he had made, other drugs spawned that could prevent cancer; the world was now forever changed. This could be clearly seen in the 30% drop in number of deaths in the world the very next year.

As mentioned before, Jordan did receive a great deal of money with this discovery. He did fund the increased research of the idea and donated a lot of it to charities, but he did want to spend some of it on himself. Five years after his discovery, Jordan bought an estate in England with over 500 acres of land. He turned this land into an Airsoft field. Airsoft was a “sport” that he and his friends used to enjoy when they were young. Technically, it’s a pretend war with plastic BBs instead of real bullets. At this field, he bought hundreds of Airsoft guns. Note that

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these guns, in order to show that they weren’t real, all had an orange tip at the end of the barrel. He had practically one of every type available. He bought multiple thermal scopes, night vision goggles, and billions of BBs. He invited all of his old friends up to the place, and they participated in huge wars. It was like being a kid all over again for Jordan. Nonetheless, he still did a great deal of research and became one of the most prominent scientists of the time. He did feel the need to enjoy himself with frivolous activities every now and then, though.

Later, Jordan opened this field to the public. He charged 20 GBP for each player, and if they needed to rent an Airsoft gun (he certainly had plenty to do so), it was an extra 15 GBP. Each and every day the field had over 160 players. The profits he received from the field he funneled towards his research and to other areas in the medical field that were in need of funds.

During this time, Jordan’s wife tried to stay out of his success as much as possible. In a sense, she was jealous, but she had no complaints about the money it brought in. She liked the idea of him researching and the estate, but hated the Airsoft portion on it. She thought it was very immature on his behalf, but didn’t really mention much. A year after opening the field to the public she had tried to convince him to close it, quite blatantly stating that it was “stupid.” Nonetheless, Jordan did not listen.

Perhaps Jordan should have taken his wife’s advice. On the night of March 23, 1930, the field had over 200 players. One man, with his own gun, enthusiastically persuaded Jordan to play a game of Airsoft that night. However, little did Jordan know that this was his final night to live. Halfway through the game, the suspicious man that had persuaded Jordan to play initially had taken direct aim at Jordan. Most other players were aware of this, and noticed nothing suspicious about it, as they were just playing a game. Yet, when he fired, everyone knew immediately that the game had stopped. The man had brought a fully automatic military assault rifle onto the field, and just placed an orange tip over the front of the barrel. He shot Jordan right between the eyes, ending his life immediately. The assassin ran but was caught by the British police force only an hour after the murder.

While the intentions of the man were unknown at the time, further research pointed out that he was also a prominent scientist as well, and was working on the same exact idea that Jordan was earlier in life, the cure for medulloblastoma. Jordan was light years ahead of him however, and beat him to it. Investigations revealed that he had thought that Jordan “stole his fame and his fortune.” His anger at what should have been his success drove him to proceed with the murder, knowing full well that Jordan owned an Airsoft field. The assassin was sentenced to the electric chair, while Jordan’s family grieved.

And that was Jordan’s story; an amazing neurologist who had found the immediate cure for medulloblastoma and led to the efficient treatment of other cancers. His research had saved the lives of many and he shall go down in history as one the most prominent scientists of the era. While he was bound to be much more successful, the world will never know due to his untimely and unfortunate death.

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Did I help you find that cure?If you want to think you did you can…

DID I?Well honestly…

I knew it! I’m useless in the future too! I can’t believe this!Well you were there a few times! The Airsoft field! Isn’t Airsoft just pretend war? Pretend? Have to use your imagination to get the full effect?

Right, so I lead to your death?Ouch, you’re right. Bad example, sorry. Well… what about the time when… Nevermind that wasn’t you. Sorry, I guess you aren’t that present.

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Dear Mom and Dad,

Hello again, it certainly has been a while. About… 6 months I think? Sorry, Chemistry 27 and Molecular & Cellular Biology 54 have really taken their toll on me this year. They were probably some of the most difficult classes I have ever taken in my entire life! The professors were incredibly dull and monotone, but they were very sagacious and intelligent. They could have answered practically anything on the subject. I remember once, a student asked my Chemistry professor something to do with hydrogen bonding, and he practically spent two hours answering this question, describing every little thing that needed to be known about hydrogen bonding, leading all the way up to an in depth and analytical discussion of the hydrogen bomb.

But like I said, these classes are tough. I’ve been able to keep my biology grade at a 4.0, but my chemistry grade had fallen to a 3.3 after one hectic exam, where all the questions seemed to be created by some evil genius who wanted us to do anything but pass. But nonetheless, I’ve been spending the last few months working and studying, and I was able to bring my grade back up to a 4.0 just before the semester ended. My final semester of Harvard too! Can you two believe it? It has finally been four years, and with this, I sent out some applications off to Medical School. Well, you two would probably be mad at me, but I only applied to one medical school: Harvard Medical School.

I know you think I’m crazy, but I really had confidence that they would accept me… Unfortunately, that wasn’t so. I just received the letter from the school just a few hours ago. It read “Jordan Holoboski, we are sorry to inform you that…” Just kidding! I GOT IN! Finally all these years of work have finally paid off! I’m one step closer to becoming a neurologist, and I got in to my only choice for a medical school! I hope you two are proud of me, and I hope to bring great discoveries in the future!

However, there is one problem that you two may already be aware of. Medical school isn’t cheap, especially Harvard Medical School! True, I was writing to come in touch with you two again after these long few months, but I also have one very important question. Could you lend me $43,000?… For a good 4-6 years? Thanks!

Love, Jordan Holoboski, future neurologist.

P.S. That future neurologist tag at the end of my name? I can only really put that there with your help, just letting you know! No pressure, though! Thanks!

P.P.S. Really… I could use the help!

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Go figure.What now?

All you did was request for money like a selfish bastard.Me? A selfish bastard? Look at yourself, “oh I don’t have any impact on your cure? I’m not in your later life that much? Why don’t you use me anymore?” This whole interview you’ve been whining about yourself. Shut the hell up for a second.

Fine.…So how was your weekend?

Oh you know, same old same old. I really don’t, but that’s nice.

Yeah it was, I saw that one movie, the one wi- WHAT THE HELL, WHY DON’T YOU USE ME? DO I AT LEAST AFFECT YOUR ADMISSION TO HARVARD MEDICAL SCHOOL?No!

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What is that?That is a medulloblastoma tumor.

Ah I see, and avenger… For your best friend’s little brother.That would be correct. Every single day I try my best in school, so that I can eventually go to a prestigious college and to a medical school, then onto finding this cure for medulloblastoma as a neurologist. Why every day? Well every day that is wasted means a cure that is delayed for this disease… Medulloblastoma… That’s what killed him, so I must kill it myself. What has the right to take the life of a child away? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Well, I guess that is true.I’m glad we see eye to eye on something. So really, even in the future I-

But seriously, I’m going to have nothing to do with you finding this cure?Oh God, my cow died last night so I don’t need any of your bull.

Excuse me?You heard me.

But… One thing.Yes?

You just said “What has the right to take the life of a child away?”Right.

What about me?Huh?

I make up the inner child in you… What has taken me away? Your education.Well, it’s either you that gets taken away or the physical lives of many children. I think the choice is obvious there.

Well…That’s what I thought.

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Sometimes I think outside the box.

Wow, you are such a bad liar.What now?

You used to think outside the box, when I helped. When was the last time this happened?Well…

Ha, I knew it.Shut up, I’m thinking.

Don’t bother asking me for help.Fine. Hm… Here let me go find some cardboard box to think outside of…

Ha ha, you’re too funny.I know right! But really, the time for me thinking “outside the box” was back then, when I was a child and you were still in my everyday life. Things have changed, but you help me think some times. For example, in math you helped me rework a basic equation into something that was much simpler than what was being taught.

No, that was just reasoning based on knowledge. I didn’t help.Really? Well then maybe you don’t help me think outside the box, but knowledge does. Also, I’ll need to think way outside the box when it comes to finding that cure when I’m older. Has anyone found it before? Exactly, so thinking inside the box would probably result in me not finding it either, so I’ll have to think outside of it to be successful. But again, you won’t be the one to help me do that, knowledge will.

Sigh… What?

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There was one major thing in my life that was intended to be “good for me,” says my parents, but

ended up being one of the worst experiences in my life. This was the process of becoming a “true” or

confirmed Catholic. However, in the end this process brought rewards that seemed to make it all

worthwhile.

First, I’d like to start off by saying that I am not very religious. I really never was since birth; it

just didn’t click with me. I believe in God and celebrate holy holidays, I just don’t go to church often, nor

does the rest of my family. I’m not saying religion, Catholicism, or church is a terrible thing; just that it

hasn’t played a huge role in my life.

Anyway, in order for me to become a confirmed Catholic, I would have to take a lot of religious

classes for many years. When I was a child it didn’t seem so bad; I met a lot of new people, the classes

were really fun, and I really didn’t have much else to do. I was in 1st grade when I started taking the class

every Sunday for a few months. We learned prayers, like “Our Father” and “Hail Mary,” played games,

like “Hangman” based on words of faith, and prepared for what we knew as “the first step to becoming a

Catholic,” or in other words, the First Communion. It certainly did seem like a scary thought at the time;

we were making a commitment to something we didn’t have a great deal of knowledge on at such a

young age, and since at that age I really didn’t have a choice, I moved on and received the First

Communion.

What a day it was after this moment! My whole family got together and went out to dinner. They

were saying things that didn’t make much sense to me. “Now you’re one step closer to being confirmed!”

my grandmother said, or “Rise up; this matter is in your hands. We will support you, so take courage and

do it,” my other grandmother would say to me. I never really understood it, but I did feel great that day. I

was in a new suit, my family around me, everyone having a great time; as if my few days in Catholic

school had made everyone’s problems disappear, if only for a moment. But how could this process get

worse?

Well, it did, that’s for sure. Starting in 6th grade, I was moved to a completely different class. I

never really knew the kids in my other class, but they would have been much better than this group. First,

no one in this group was from Mohonasen. They were from some other school, and they all knew each

other like they have been best friends for life. So in general, I was very lonely. The class would drag on

for hours and there would be no end in sight. The games we played before was substituted with lectures

and group Bible activities, and since I knew no one and they had no interest in knowing me, I was pretty

much stuck by myself.

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Thankfully, the next two years my parents would forget to register me for the class. However,

they wouldn’t for my 9th grade year. Although I begged my mother to not let me go back, she would tell

me “You need to be confirmed!” and my father would always tell me “You need God in your life.”

These next years were the absolute worst. The class had the same kids from my 6th grade class,

and not only that, the class was now about two hours long, 5:45 to 7:30 PM, one Sunday a month. Not too

bad; at least it wasn’t every week, but it certainly seemed like it was. In fact, the Sunday they picked each

month was always, and I mean always, the day before a huge test I had in my most difficult class. It

seemed as if they purposely called my teachers in advance, asked when I would have a test on a Monday,

and then place the class the day before. I remember once I had a test in AP World History that was on the

Monday after a Sunday class. I actually brought some supplies with me to study, knowing I was going to

do terrible because my study time was cut so significantly. However, I don’t know whether to call this

little occurrence good or bad, but the pizza they offered at the end of each class actually gave me food

poisoning, so now I didn’t have to take the test the day after! But, food poisoning from a church? This

place seemed to be taking much closer associations with Hell at this point rather than God.

Anyway, it was still a lecture and group activity driven class, where I was reluctant to speak to

anyone and they were reluctant to speak to me. I’d count the days I would have left of this class, until

finally the ultimate event would occur: Confirmation. On the night of November 23rd, 2009, I would walk

with my sponsor, my godmother Jackie, and receive a blessing from the bishop. Thank God it was finally

over, I wasn’t even that happy at the fact I was finally a Catholic rather than the fact I’d never have to

take those horrendous and drawn out classes ever again in my entire life. But how could a process so

terrible become so good? Well first, it did bring some of my family back together temporarily, which is

always great to have seeing as my family isn’t very big and most family members don’t live too close by.

However, what was a significant benefit was the amount of money it brought in. I received money from

every one of my family members that night, and while I still had pre-calculus homework to do when I got

home from the event, I came home $500 richer and much happier.

While that $500 was greatly beneficial to me, that wasn’t the only good thing I got out of that

long, drawn-out, and overrated process. Spending the time around the church and in the classes made me,

it realize that religion, while extremely significant to millions of people, really isn’t that important to me.

Not only that, it made me realize that I have yet to form a set of beliefs to live my life by. True, it is nice

for the religion to give me a basic set of beliefs to live my life, but that’s just it, I didn’t want a set of

beliefs just handed to me, I wanted my own. I can’t just let someone tell me what I should believe in, who

would I be if I just accepted that? I certainly wouldn’t be Jordan Holoboski; I would just be another

typical Catholic.

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You know who could help you with your beliefs?I don’t know, who? Oprah Winfrey?

No, Dr. Phil.Really? Do you think they’re fighting to help me come up with a set of beliefs? To have an honor of doing that? To have their own religions formed off of them like “Dr. Philism and “Oprahism”? Where in Dr. Phil’s religion, Dr. Phil is the only true god and Oprah is the devil, and it is the reverse for Oprahism. Well, Oprah would be a goddess, not a god, but you get the point. Then they can bash each other’s religions on their shows and see who wins by getting the most followers. I think Oprah would win, personally, by giving everyone in the audience $1 million for accepting her as “goddess on earth.”

Ha, me too. What a coincidence.Oh I see what you did there! I knew there was no way I was coming up with that…

So, do you know who now?Oprah, definitely. I mean, really, she’s Oprah, she knows all!

No, me! You don’t have to be so sarcastic.I’ll pass, I think I should figure this out on my own.

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Just recently, I listened to a song that brought me back to the days of my childhood. This song was “The NeverEnding Story,” by Limahl. One night, I watched a comedic review of the movie The NeverEnding Story 2, and at the end of the review a part of this song played. The song made me curious, so I began to look it up. I found the music video of it and listened to it; all night I kept playing the song over and over, reminiscing back to my childhood.

I never saw the original movie, The NeverEnding Story, but this song brought something to life in me. I understood the theme of the song in its entirety, which was greatly helped by the addition of the video for the song. It made me think back to the days when life wasn’t so difficult.

First, it made me think back to the days when I had such a vivid and childlike imagination. I would dream of what it would be like to go up into space, to walk on the moon, to touch a big, puffy white cloud, and to see what it

would be like to reach the end of a rainbow, and what would be there. I also remembered myself when I was child on Christmas, staying up all night with my brother waiting for Santa, then waking up in the morning with a burst of energy to see what jolly old St. Nick had brought me for being a good boy. Then I thought of myself on the night before Easter, when my mom would come home from the store and say “You better hurry up to bed, I saw the Easter Bunny on the street before us and he said he wouldn’t be giving away any candy to kids who aren’t asleep!”

Next, I thought of my days in elementary school. Life was too simple back then. Homework was practically nonexistent and school was less work and more play. School was just pure fun. However, this song really made me think of my art classes during this time, when I really got a chance to express my imagination. I remembered drawing a simple self-portrait that looked nothing like me in 1st grade, a map of the world that was orange, blue, and red, thinking of myself as the perfect cartographer only when I was in 2nd grade, and when I painted a picture of people playing tennis on the moon in 4th grade.

Lastly, I started to think of my life from that point to present day. I realized that my imagination has dwindled since I was a child. With schoolwork getting much more serious and rigorous, my imagination has diminished. I spend all of my time on literal assignments. It really depressed me to think about this, so I promptly stopped and continued to think of my life in the past, when everything was fun, and when imagination filled and made up a great portion of my life.

Listening to the song “The NeverEnding Story” made me feel like a child again. I really needed that feeling, as it made me realize that I still have that child within me, with all of my original dreams, ideas, and experiences. It also made me realize that life truly is a never-ending story, as anything can be brought back with memories. However, it is only a great story if it is filled with imagination.

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Hey, I got a great idea.What?

Well, you should see that movie. If the song for it made you feel that way, who knows what effect the movie will have on you?Nice try.

Worth a shot. But still, you say life can only be great with me? So what, does your life suck?Well, no. It’s just… Well it can be boring at times.

You need me and you know it.I’ll never admit to that.

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In the woods, I sat down with my Airsoft rifle at my shoulder, looking through the scope at my target, when my BBs began to talk to me.

“I’m not going to hit him.” The first BB stated.“What?” I asked.“That tango you’re aiming at, I won’t hit him.”“Why not?“Your hop-up is too high.”“My what?”“Hop-up, it makes us spin and fly farther, but can lower our accuracy.”“It’s fine, watch.”I take a shot at my target. The BB flies off into the distance, screaming “Wheee!” like a little

schoolgirl. However, he curves off to the left and smacks right into a tree.”“Get down! Get down! He is going to see you!” The second BB yelled.“Alright! Alright!”“He told you he wasn’t going to hit him.”“Well I didn’t think hop-up mattered much.”“Hop-up doesn’t matter? Boy, let me teach you a lesson. Look down the scope, just keep looking.

Don’t take your eyes off it. See that cup in the distance? Look right at it. Good, now fire me.”I pulled the trigger, the BB flies but this time hits a tree to the left of the cup, but relatively close

to where I was shooting from. The BB ricocheted off and hit me right in the left cheek, leaving a small bruise. The second BB is now beside me, trying not to laugh.

“Ow ow ow! Why the hell did you do that?” I screamed furiously.“If your hop-up was off that wouldn’t have happened, idiot. Now see that dial on the left side of

your gun.”“Yes…”“Spin it down until it clicks and

you cannot spin it anymore.”“Got it.”“Put me back into the clip, and

we’ll do it right this time.”I put him back into the clip, and

begin to aim at the cup. “Whoa whoa whoa, what are you

doing?” He asks.“Aiming at the cup?”“Aim at your original target; I’m

surprised he hasn’t heard you yet with all of your yapping.”

“Have it your way.”I look down through the scope

yet again, and fire. It’s only a second or two before I hear a loud scream from my target, exclaiming that he has been hit.

“Tango down, game over.” I whisper, at last.

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I have you in my eye.

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The sun was sending pillars of light right at us, causing beads of sweat to drip off of our faces

onto the ground, quickly evaporating after touching the blazing hot concrete with a soft shhhhhhh sound.

When everyone has arrived, we dive right into the green and brown ocean that we all know and love as

the only place for Airsoft. We trudge along the dirt path that has been laid out for us, each carrying a

piece of equipment that makes the several hundred yard walk seem ten miles long. As we reach the

central point of the path, we decide on the game type, teams, and the various rules that probably won’t be

followed. Once that has all been settled, we begin our match. I run to the small trench of which I have

familiarized myself with many times before. As the only sniper on the team, I extend my bipod, lie down,

and wait alone.

It would be a long while before anyone from the enemy team would come to this part of the

forest, and with the boredom growing from the thought, I admire that which is around me. Looking off

into the distance, there are hundreds of trees that spring up from the ground and extend into the heavens.

Leaves continually fall off of their arms as the summer winds pick up speed and kidnap the soft little

green bodies from their mothers. As time goes by the ground becomes more and more scattered with

them, turning the flat brown floor with specks of green due to the various weeds in the area into a lush

green that would move and spread throughout the forest. Looking up, the sun’s beams were piercing

through the gaps of the trees making a freckled mosaic of light on the ground.

There were cicadas up in the trees, making sounds of a distant chainsaw slicing through freshly

selected lumber. Birds would fly overhead from time to time, usually taking a break on one of the

branches to sing a song which could encapsulate the complete beauty of Mother Nature into a few single

notes. A breeze would pick up from time to time creating a small wissssh sound and a chchchch from the

leaves on the ground and in the trees. When these elements weren’t making music, there was nothing but

pure silence; something that can usually only be found during the middle of the night. The silence is

disrupted for a moment. Oh my God what is that I don’t even know it wasn’t me it definitely wasn’t me.

Was it me? Did I move my foot back a bit to get more comfortable? No it couldn’t have been my feet are

in the same spot as they have been for the past 30 minutes and I would have noticed as I control that

myself. What is it where is it who is it? I see nothing. Wait there it is again! What’s creating this noise?! I

calm down and rescan the area to find it was only a squirrel. That silence can get to you, it really can.

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Besides the sounds of nature, I heard something else. When I was completely calm, overwhelmed

by what the scene already had to offer me, I began to hear a sort of ambient music in my head (this music

can best be described by Track 7 on the CD). This music just made me feel even more at peace; my whole

body was in a complete state of relaxation, and with all my schoolwork and stress, it’s really hard for

anything to accomplish that.

Small wafts of air would make the weak smells of the forest become apparent. The smell of the

dirt floor is quite varietal. In some instances the smell is earthy which would evoke an image of a flower

in a pot grabbing nutrients from the fertility of the soil in which it has been placed. In other instances it

has a metallic smell of the steel girders in a building. The smell of the rubber butt plate of my sniper rifle

is even more noticeable, with its smell of a freshly opened pack of bright yellow-green tennis balls. Other

smells desperately attempt to make themselves obvious to me yet can’t. Not only is the overreaching

stench of dirt and the sniper rifle too pungent, my focus has primarily been set on the silence of the

moment.

The smooth plastic body of my sniper rifle feels cold to my bare arms, despite the warmth of this

summer day. The rubber butt plate feels comfortable at my shoulder, and although it is just rubber, it feels

a hundred times sturdier than the body. With all the games we have played, the rifle body has gained

many grooves and depressions that were not there originally. The rubber plate, however, has maintained

its form. The steel barrel makes up the weight of the gun, with a grainy texture that feels like beach sand

escaping from my hands. At the end of the barrel is a bright orange tip, letting everyone know that what I

am holding is just a replica. Besides that, the leaves on the ground tickle my legs as a mother would when

caressing her newborn baby. This sense becomes stronger as the wind picks up, giving the leaves a sense

of being on and around me.

Waiting has finally paid off. An unsuspecting enemy stops for a second, giving me enough time

to look down my optic and pick him off from the distance. Hearing “Hit!” gives me what I have been

wanting this whole time; the taste of victory. Although made somewhat bitter with the extremely long

wait, it was still sweet in the end. It was a taste of cinnamon and sugar, mixed in with cough syrup.

Pleasant for a moment, yet distasteful at the same time.

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Ah now that’s more like it.Is it me, or do you like hearing the question “what?” a lot?

Well, it’s just at least I shine through here. I’m the star of the moment, me. You can’t have any of that without me. Look at how amazing I am. You pretending to be in some sort of war with toy guns, like you used to do with Nerf guns and water guns back when… You cared about me.I still care about you, I just don’t need you that much. And this isn’t really that much imaginative. The guns are replicas and the BBs actually do cause some pain, unlike the ammunition in Nerf and water guns. But, no one dies when they get hit, which is nice, and we do sort of act like it’s a real war, and it has that nice intense feeling to it at times… Thanks for making it possible.

No problem.It’s too bad you aren’t really useful anywhere else.

You know we had something going for a second, and you just ruined it completely. Way to go.I could say the same for you about 100 times.

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Jordan,

I cannot take it anymore, this was the final straw. Do you have any idea what it’s like in your head right now? Oh, you must, it is YOUR head after all, meaning that you should have been able to stop this! Your days of school has allowed this… this… Parasite to grow within you. He says his name is “Knowledge,” and he keeps growing and growing. As he grew, I shrank, and as this happened, he began to pick on me. He started to call me useless, a piece of you know what, a little insignificance that should crawl in a hole and just die already. I told him he was a liar; I showed him everything you and I had accomplished, like that story we wrote together, explaining why deer had antlers from a completely imaginative point of view. He merely mocked me for this, and then he showed me what you and he had accomplished. He took out all of your report cards and test grades, and handed them to me. I looked through briefly, saddened by what you’ve become, and then he asked “What’s more important to him now? You, or me? Take a look at that pile again, and you’ll get your answer rather quickly.” I still explained to him that this cannot be, that this was just a phase… Surely it was! I knew you were going to use me eventually… However, that day never came. Knowledge was becoming too big, and me too small. I cannot live in these conditions any longer, under the constant harassment of your new best friend. What ever happened to me? Huh? Why did it have to be like this? No…No… I told myself I wouldn’t do this, nothing I say now will matter. I’m sorry to have to tell you

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this, but I’m going to take Knowledge’s advice… As soon as you get a chance to read this, I’ll be gone forever.

Try to remember me if you can, Your Imagination

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…Wait, what?

…You couldn’t have…

…You didn’t.

...Joke’s over.

…Hello?

…I’m sorry… But I really don’t need you.

…Well… Goodbye… Old friend.

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…Knowledge after.

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Notes on When A Friendship Dies: Now, what’s the “moral” of this story? Every good story should have one, right? And what is a memoir besides a detailed true personal story with some “fluff” added to make it more enjoyable to the reader? Exactly, nothing. So, I guess you could say the moral is as follows: “Don’t let the little things in life have such a significant impact on your decisions, because when they do, you’ll regret it in the end.” That should be pretty obvious by the end of the piece.

But really, when you think about it, what were we doing to ourselves? We were practically torturing ourselves and each other every day, when we could have been living our lives as normal, having endless amounts of fun doing the most random of activities.

Here, right now I want you to take something out of your life that makes it fun and enjoyable. Don’t worry, this is only hypothetical, you don’t really have to do it (unless you actually want to for some reason… tell me how that goes). Let’s say, something general yet has a presence in your life for a least an hour each day. How about music? Okay, so one day you’re listening to music, it’s great, has got you pumped, but all of a sudden, you begin to hear some strange error in a few songs. You ignore it for a while but it happens again later, and with it, you just decide “I’m not going to listen to music anymore.” Now, for the next few years, whenever music would play, you would cover your ears, avoid it at all costs, and whenever someone would invite you to listen to a song on their iPod, you would ignore them. This goes on for years, and you’re miserable. You’re sitting in your room doing homework, exercising, cleaning, playing a game, but absolutely only to complete and utter silence. Other things you may have liked to do, like dancing, you cannot do anymore, because that would usually require some form of musical beat or rhythm to stimulate. You are a mess, and one day you just say to yourself “Why do I hate music again?” With this, you would give music a chance. Not really enjoying it too much, you would listen to it much more constantly as the days went by, and then you were back to enjoying yourself again. But you take a look back at those years without music and just say “Wow, I can’t believe I wasted so many years living without this.” That’s my story in a nutshell.

But, there may be another reason why this all arose that I never really mentioned. Back then, in 7th grade, whenever I made plans to do something, even for myself like, “I will start my homework at 5:30,” I followed what I had planned exactly. So when I said “Hey, let’s get together today and do something,” or “Hey, let’s go to Teen Town,” and the other person agreed, I expected the other person to do it, no matter what. Since he didn’t follow what we had both planned, I was extremely perturbed and just couldn’t imagine anyone doing something like that. Today, however, that’s much different. I make plans all the time for myself and for get-togethers and I have a tendency not to follow them. Especially for homework, before procrastination never set in, now, well… God why am I typing this up so late?

Also, as a final note, I’d like to mention we are still best friends to this point. Where this piece ended is pretty much where we are today. We still reminisce to our past, and now we are trying to relive bits and pieces of our earlier friendship. It’s a long process, and with school work being much more tedious and lengthy than it was three years ago, well, that cuts our time down quite a bit!

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Notes on Playlist of Our Friendship: This piece was a just a playlist for me and my best friend. However, it is a playlist in two cases. First, it is a playlist of the games we played together, and second, it is a playlist of the songs we would hear so often because of playing those games. I included some to share with you on the CD, and you should notice something just by listening to the songs. Before I say that, any gamer should notice that the games in the “before we broke off” list are radically different from the ones in the “after we became friends again” list (besides Starcraft, which appears in both). However, chances are you don’t know that, so let me explain. The first list, all of those games, besides Starcraft, was for Nintendo game systems. Nintendo often makes games that are more “child-friendly,” and therefe ore are much more cute, gentle, and in general, imaginative. The second list, on the other hand, are all games not only not made by Nintendo, but have much more realistic and not-so-child-friendly topics associated with them. Portal is about science, Fallout 3 and Call of Duty are about war, and Doom is about Hell. So what should you be hearing with the CD? You should notice with the music in the first list, the songs sound much more childlike, playful, and a bit evocative to the senses, while the songs in the second list sound either intense or less imaginative. So what am I trying to suggest with this list? That the breakup of our friendship played a role in the deterioration of my imagination? Maybe, but we were still against each other at the start of high school, which is where my work and education became vigorous. That’s probably the stronger explanation for these lists, but who knows? Maybe if we never fought we would still be playing the same childish games? I wish I could go back to the past and find out… Oh well.

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Notes on What Honor Students Carry: Notes: Obviously the group in this piece is honor students, which to me is one of the most important groups in my life. Education is the most important aspect of my life; without it I can never be who I want to be, the one to end medulloblastoma. In the first paragraph, Matthew Haycraft is somewhat like me. I’m not as serious as he is, that’s for sure, but it’s close. First, I believe grades under 90 are personal failures really, like that I didn’t try my absolute hardest on something. Second, I aspire to go to a college that is as prestigious as Yale, Harvard. The second paragraph basically is just full of mental and physical things I have carried myself and have seen others carry as well. However, these are all fictional characters. Some are based on people I have noticed in school, while others are not. But really, these characters are probably real people in the group of students, just in a different school. However, without the specific characters, every student has carried the countless things mentioned before them; you can’t be a true student without carrying them!

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Notes on Biography: Writing the future part of this biography wasn’t that difficult; I have known what I wanted to do and accomplish for such a long time. Going to Harvard University has been a goal of mine since I was in 4th grade, while getting into Harvard Medical School became one of my goals by around 9th grade. Since these were such huge goals of mine, these two schools were obviously where I saw myself going. Then, the whole dream of a neurologist and saving the world from medulloblastoma has been mine since my friend’s little brother was diagnosed with the terrible disease. As that disease was a form of cancer, I also made it so that other cancers were being cured because of my cure. This was because I want to truly change the world when I am older. Not for money or fame or anything, just to help people, which is why I also made the cure itself cheap and effective; so that anyone could have access to it.

Moving to England has been a small idea of mine, which is why I had myself move there in the future. To be honest, I really dislike the United States of America. The country focuses a great deal of the country’s money on the military, rather than education or something actually important. True, I guess the military is important, but still, more money can be focused on other things. There are many other reasons why I dislike the country, but I don’t think it would be the best to describe them at this point. While I did have myself go to both Harvard University and Harvard Medical School, it’s always been a small dream of mine to go to the University of Oxford in England to study neurology. However, I never really did plan on it becoming a reality.

Lastly, the whole Airsoft field was a fun little idea I came up with. I absolutely love playing Airsoft with my friends, so I figured I’d own some form of place to play Airsoft at in the future. Not only that, I planned to have an arsenal of Airsoft guns to go along with it, which attachments like thermal scopes, something I can’t afford at this point (they’re over $10,000!). However, my parents really do hate that I play with these guns, and they always tell me to be careful with them. My father would always warn me about every possible injury that could occur when playing with the guns; for example, “You’ll shoot your eye out!” Because of this, I figured Airsoft would have to play some role in my death one way or another.

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Notes on Dear Parents, I Need Money… Now: I wrote this request based on how I’d see myself in the future. Hopefully, I’ll make it into Harvard University initially. Those classes I put in my paper were based on my research of what classes are given at Harvard in order to get into any medical school. I absolutely hate organic chemistry though, so I put myself in a position where I’d think that class was difficult on purpose. Also, my pure dedication to Harvard over the many years of my life is what made me think to only apply to Harvard Medical School in this piece. Since 4th grade I’ve been wanting to go to Harvard, so I thought I’d reapply that part of me in this fictional, but hopefully a reality later in my life, request. However, I know that, like college, Medical school is expensive. I wrote this to my parents because I know without their financial help, along with their initial support for me to do my absolute best in general, I would never be able to learn at such a prestigious school. I hope I can write this request to my parents in the future, and yes, I do mean write. I don’t think I could ever ask for that much money in person!

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Notes on Religion, Good and Bad: I could never really find the point to this whole process; the only one I was given was from my parents telling me “I need God in my life.” Why couldn’t I have God in my life without all of this crap? I do believe in God, but I really found all of these classes and everything to be just a huge waste of time. Almost everything about this process was terrible. True, when I was in elementary school it wasn’t so bad, but that’s just because the whole process was sugarcoated with fun games and activities. It wasn’t until I was teenager when the process showed its true colors to me. Yet, the end result was truly priceless (unless you consider the $500, which obviously has a defined price), with me realizing that I have no set of beliefs, and the one Catholicism was handing me was not who I am.

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Notes on The NeverEnding Story: One thing you should notice about this piece is irony that is apparent in some parts, yet subtle in others. The piece is written much more formally and with less creative style than many of the other pieces in this project. It was pretty much to say “When my imagination isn’t present, this is what happens; everything is more structured, more formal, much like in an analytical essay.” I wasn’t listening to the song when I was writing this piece, so who knows where my imagination went to help me along with writing it? True, you do see it with some little bits, but you should see it in the structure of the piece with the typical transition words and the lack of style in the introduction. It’s much easier for me to write essays like that, not so much these creative pieces. I’m much more proud of some of the research essays I’ve done than many of the pieces I wrote creatively. It’s just who I am; I just like writing papers that have definitive topics that I should be writing about. When the topic is “yourself,” I just don’t know what to write about.

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Notes on Can You Fly the Right Way This Time?: One thing that almost no one knows about me (or would expect from me) is that I play Airsoft. It is merely a game where you shoot at your friends with little plastic BBs coming out of very realistic looking gun in order to carry out very specific objectives, aka a “pretend war.” My friends and I play this about once a month, if the weather permits, and it has really become an enjoyable part of my life.

By playing these games every month, I’ve grown quite attached to Airsoft and Airsoft guns (I currently have four in my possession). On the contrary, I have no interest in owning a real gun at absolutely any point in the future. With that, I also never want to go into combat in a real war. Could you imagine me in a real war? I’d be a complete mess; I probably wouldn’t even be able to hold a gun. This is just a game, merely a game to play time with my friends.

With that being said, this piece is just shows me in a typical game of Airsoft. While we usually play a game called Capture The Flag (CTF), in this piece we were playing a game known as Last Man Standing (LMS). Basically, the idea is to get everyone out with a hit from a BB. To my dismay, during these games my accuracy suddenly falls. It’s usually because I have hop-up on a certain way that’s wrong. This moment just denotes my confusion with it, and while it does seem the problem is resolved at the end, realistically I still have no idea how hop-up works.

Nevertheless, Airsoft plays a weird role in my life. It’s is practically a secret part of me. If most people knew they would probably be in disbelief, it’s really contradictory to my character. I guess I can admit that the whole idea of guns is appealing to most men, yet with me having dreams of being a neurologist and wanting to have nothing to do with a real war, it doesn’t really make too much sense.

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Notes on The Airsoft Place: This piece, by far, has been the most difficult to write. Normally I would start these notes off with explaining the piece, but no, not this time. This was extremely painful to write, excruciatingly painful. It was like writing little bits and pieces with a never ending writer’s block. After every sentence would come a great deal of thought on how to write the next sentence, and whenever a string of words actually made it onto the paper, I was unhappy with it. It took hours to even finish and I am still unhappy, but I just… Can’t figure out what to do with it.

Anyway, this piece was describing the forest where my friends and I play Airsoft, and somewhat about the game of Airsoft itself. More importantly, playing the game like I do makes the sport seem somewhat less intense and incongruous with my typically gentle nature. Lying in that trench, looking at the nature makes me feel relatively calm, although there are many tensions with the matter at hand. Spending my time there makes me feel almost “at one with nature,” and it is generally nice to see a piece of land without urbanization taking over it. Sometimes I just like to escape to that trench spot just to clear my head or to admire the world without the destruction caused by humans, which is a bit ironic seeing as I am technically disrupting the homeostasis within the forest by shooting my Airsoft gun.

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Notes on I’m Gone, Forever: : This suicide note is a reminder to myself of what I have become, and what formal education has made me. Today, I have little to no imagination left within me. I can’t think like I did when I was child; it just isn’t possible. The ideas that have entered my brain had allowed knowledge to grow, but in order for it to grow, it had to eat away my imagination. To be honest, I don’t mind it that much. I’d rather be right than wrong, and almost all imaginative thought ends up being completely impractical. Yet, I cannot help but be troubled by this. Education has killed what I knew; it replaced all ideas that I thought to be true with the “real” truth, where everything happens for a reason and almost all of life has been defined with specifics in every aspect. The part where I mention my imagination helping me write a story about deer and their antlers was from a story I wrote in 2nd grade, explaining such. Of course I had no idea why, and no concrete answer can really be put on this today. I had to use all of my imagination, and very little actual thought in order to write the story. My imagination would have to shine through, and it did. Yet, with dreams of becoming a neurologist, I’d have to keep my imagination in the past and leave knowledge as the driving force for my present and my future. I’m sure I cannot become a neurologist by using imagination. Well, technically I could imagine myself as a neurologist, but I heard that this doesn’t pay very well and doesn’t really help anyone, including myself. Sorry imagination, you’ve been a great friend when I was a child, but maybe it is time to let you go.

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