43 Describe taking a standarized test to assess mental health

This is a weird blog topic. I can't say that i've ever taken a standarized test to assess mental health. The thing about standarized tests is that they are supposed to tell what a student knows compared to what everyone in the nation should collectively know. It's based on a nation wide scale, not on the students personal learning experiences. If a test was created to test mental health, it could very well determine that everyone in the nation was mildly crazy. I don't think there is a 'standard' for mental health becasue everyone is different. Also, i don't really think there is a particular state of health that everyone should be in either. Everyone has their own inner demons that they have to deal with every single day. Who knows? Sally might be the most down to earth person you'd ever meet, but underneath, she could be suffering from terrible grief or terrible anxiety. Everyone is different--seriously. Also, i don't even know if there is a particular way to determine someone's mental health. What is the standard? Of cource if you constantly talk to yourself or act crazy all the time then it's natural to assume you're crazy. But how do you measure sanity? I believe i am correct in saying that no one is compltely sane. what is the average reaction to an expereince? Everyone reacts a different way. Also, people have been through different experiences. One person might have gone through a rough childhood, so if someone is yelling at them or putting them under pressure, they might act stiff and unresponsive as instict. Another person might freak out and get really upset. Those are two different responses, both depending on the person's background. If we had a standarized test for mental healthy, we would all be insane. I can already say that i have my own issues. Everyone has their own inner fears. They can try to hide it, but it's there. SOme peopel might not even know they have a problem....

Journal 42

Once there was a hero named Finn the human who lived in the land of Ooo with is best friend Jake the dog. Finn and Jake were the perfect team, and both of them spent their days saving the whimsical characters of Ooo. They were always together, and all  the people in the land of Ooo agreed unanimously that they were the most noble creatures in the entire world. They always tried to do right for people, but sometimes, because they were as close as brothers, they let their emotions get in the way and ended up doing the right things for the wrong reasons.
One day in the land of Ooo, Finn and Jake were going through one of their daily rituals: fighting off the ice king. Though they both knew the Ice king was harmless at most times and his only real weapon was his malice and fighting spirit, they tried to be noble and fight him like they would anyone else.
Finn and Jake were the best at fighting becasue they practiced hard everyday in order to protect the people of Ooo. They were confident in their abilities, and they worked together to fight the Ice King away from the villiage he was tormenting. Their confidence in themselves and their underestimation of the Ice King was their mistake. While chatting in between spars, Jake barely noticed the Ice King drag his body along the ground, and barely felt it when his long spiderly hands grabbed his ankles. He was frozen into a solid block before he could even blink.
"NO!" Finn screamed. He did not plan on killing or imprisoning the ice king for his annoyance to the town, only to wear him out with embarrasement and give him a stern talkng to. But he never thought the Ice King was as serious enough to do somethign such as this.
So Finn vowed to fight the ice king. No longer was he fighting to save the people (though they would benefit) but to fight out of revenge for Ice King hurting his friend.

Journal 41

To me, a hero is someone who does something noble. Someone who does something and makes a difference in people's lives. It ddoesn't have to be a person with any superhuman powers, or someone that people recognize or even notice. Just a regular person who does something honorable. To me, my grandfather Thomas Tyler is a hero. He was never rich, never well-known outside the small town he lived in, and never won any awards for greatness or anything of the sort. But to his clients and friends in Pekin, Illinois, Tom Tyler was a dear friend and someone who changed other people's lives. My grandfather was a barber. Though he's retired, his clients still can recall his hospitatlity, and the comfort they got when entering my grandpa's barber shop. One roomed but for a small bathroom and office, his work station was very humble--but it still seems so vivid in my mind. My Grandpa is one of the most optimistic, most uplifting, and most comforting people i know, and he made people feel better just by chatting with them while giving a short haircut. He'd tell jokes, he'd laugh, he'd catch up with his clients and talk to them of their life. He cheered them up when they were weary, and he picked them up when they were down.His shop matched his personality: Wide open windows, looking at passerby's gently and invivting; walls adorned with funny posters and jokes that got a laugh out of everyone who entered; and though they were old, the barber chairs were worn and smoothed by the family and friends who had gathered there. He never made much money. Supporting a family of 8 on the salary of a barber didn't make you rich. And yet he still continued to go to work everyday with a smile on his face in order to cheer up the clients that walked in. He never started any revolution, never saved someone from drowning, never won any prizes or awards. And yet......he made people feel better. Feel welcomed. Feel wanted. Feel needed. He was a hero of the spirit. By just talking with him, he could save someone from a bad mood and a bad day. He gave people someone to talk to when they needed it. Someone to complain to when they needed to vent. And someone to listen to when they didn't want to talk at all. He was and is a hero in my mind because he made a difference.

Journal 40

Last night I  finished this book called Legend. What can I say about Legend......you could definitely tell it was the author's first book. I was not very  impressed. First of all, the plot was not very original at all. It was pretty much  The Hunger Games combined with Les Miserables combined with a cheesy romance.  Put those three together, and you get legend.  Now, i will admit, to one who hasn't read a wide variety of books like i have, the book would have been really good. The writing was simple and not very descriptive, and i can see how somone who is used to reading teen novels could enjoy it. As for me, I look for a lot more in a book than just the plot. I didn't feel like the book was descriptive enough. The story was told in two different first person points of view, which should have gave the author a good upper hand......but she didn't use it! For example, one of the main characters, Day, apparently lives on the streets and slums. That should have given the author a great opportunity to used descriptive words--to SHOW the reader the desperate living conditions of the character. She didn't do that hardly at all. That's like saying "He lived in a slum." instead of saying "He lived in s slum, and each lungful of air he breathed in was swarming with putrid fog, the poor lined the streets, their clothes tatterd and ripped, as the sun beat down on their bare backs, as flies buzzed around them in hordes of  " etc. etc. description. Seriously. I was sorely dissapointed. She described how each character dressed down to a tee, but didn't bother to thouroughly describe settings. What the heck? I have a good imagination, thank god, but if i didn't i would have had a terrible time trying to imagine what was happening. Another issue was the characters. She went from one to the other waaaay too fast, barely allowing readers to get to even know them. Day, for example, was like a stranger to me throughout the entire book. His character didn't seem very developed. The only strong characteristic she made sure readers understood was that he cared about his family. That was it. I would have liked to know what makes him tick, why he does what he does, how he feel's about what's happening to him, etc. etc. I wanted that so bad and i never got that from this book. I was dissapointed. I mean, it was okay. Exept for the plot seemed like something regurgitated from something else then tweaked a little bit. I kind of felt like i wasted my time.

Journal 39

Spring break. My spring break can in one word be described as a 'break'. It really did feel like i got a great break from school and from stress, and i found it very relaxing (most of the time). My family didn't go anywhere, and i pretty much spent the majority of my time chilling at home and watching my little sisters. Of course they fought a lot, and that was stressfull, but once they settled down everything was really good. Another highlight of my springbreak was that muni practices for the musical Les Miserables began! Monday night from 6:30 to 9:30 was our very first practice and we got to meet the entire cast of the Muni's Les Mis production. It was AMAZING!!!!! We all sang through a couple songs and from the very start i could tell that this production is going to be FANTASTIC. Literally everyone in the cast has a wonderful voice, and the actors are phenominal. It's going to be one of the best shows the Muni will ever produce. I had practice for the rest of the week: Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday and we were off for the weekend. The practices pretty much consist of learning the music scene by scene then blocking the scenes out and plannning how the scene will look to the audience. My favorite scene to watch being blocked was the prolougue scene where the chain gang sings "Look Down". At first everyone wa really goofy and having fun, but once the director announced that they were going to run it for real, everyone got reallly serious and put on their acting faces.It was great. Just plain great. The man who is to play Jean Valjean has a wonderful voice too, and i really enjoyed watching him work through his scenes witht the director. The next night we did the same thing (exept i was more involved). We learned the song At The End of the Day and then the director blocked it out and we did what he called 'roughing it' where we loosely ran through it to get a good visual. The rest of the week was like that, and each night was amazing. The music was just incredible, and we sounded like the soundtrack off of a movie. I've never been involved in a choir/cast this good, and i think that this experience is going to be awesome.

Journal 38

Job Shadowing. So last Thursday I went job shadowing at News Channel 20 in Springfield with Sabrina, and it was quite the interesting experience. We had two sessions--one from 10:00 to 12:00 and the next from 3:30 to 5:30. During the first session, we showed up and went in the entrance area and the receptionist told us that the reporter Rebecca Clark that we were supposed to shadow wasn't actually there that day and wouldn't be at all because she was in Champaign. That was a pretty major set back. Another man came in and told us he would take us back with the other Plain's students shadowing--Daniel Plunket and Michael Campbell. So we were ushered through a long hallway to a workroom with some cubicles where we were introduced to several people in the office. When we first came in, a woman took us and introduced us to some different people. We were introduced to a man named Steve, and he told us about his job. He organized stories and kept up with police scanner and what-not, and also took calls from people who wanted to tip News Channel 20 off for good stories. He was kind, and we talked to him for a while and asked him some questions. Because our job shadow reporter wasn't there, we just kind of passed around to different people who had time to talk to us. After talking with Steve, a pho-tog (photojournalist) took us around the station and intoruduced us to some new people. He showed us his equipment and explained his day, then he took us to the main control room where we met two new guys, one was named Ed Janik. Anyway, we spent a lot of time with them, and they were extremely helpful. They were actually my favorite because they gave some great insight on the different jobs in journalism. After that we got to watch the miday show done live. That, i will admit, was pretty cool. We got to see the studio and see all the cameras and talk to the reporters. Next we talked to another pho-tog who showed us the editing process of the video clips and interviws we see on our own TV's.  After that, our first session was over. So we got a break and then we returned at 3:30. The second session had some plusses and minuses. We got to see Jeremy, the sports reporter, and meet Chantel, another reporter. Chantel let us follow her around the office a bit and explained to us how journalism is a constant press for time. She told us all the things she had to accomplish and the small amount of time she actually had to do them. She was pretty stressed out about this,  but she was nice enough to talk us through it. We got to meet another reporter named Vince. I didn't like him. He kind of 'rubbed me wrong.' There really wasn't a lot to say about him. He didn't impress me and he was kind of overbearing on telling us all the hardships of journalism. He was less than encouraging. Anyway, we ended our visit on a good note. We got to talk to a producer named Michael and he loved his job and was really open and encouraging!

Journal 37

When I hear jazz, I see a restaurant in New Orleans. Because Jazz is best known there, that’s what i think about. I see a huge restaurant, teeming with crowds of people. They keep filing in, and as they do, they marvel at the many happy faces surrounding them. Families and friends lounge in chairs at neat, simple tables, joking and laughing, their mouths wide with smiles. Their clothes are an array of color: Blues, greens, browns, mahogany, bright reds and gold. Women have swooping dresses that gracefully lay on their shoulders, and men have dashing, black slicked suits. The children dress playfully. Little girls wear summer dresses, their feet clicking with little black flats, and young boys wear suspenders, their anxious thumbs pulling on the gleaming straps.  Waiters dance through isles, their hands filled with trays of warm, delicious, steaming food, their hair pulled back in tight buns. The sweet spicy smell of cajun wafts through the air, and people greedily dig into their meals and moan at the wonderful taste. Everyone is moving and lively, and the room is loud with excited talking. The musicians dance and sway to their tunes, their bodies swinging with the jazz in smooth intervals. One of the trumpet players jokes with the crowd. He jumps off the stage, tapping through isles, tip toeing between seats, his feet moving like butter through the swarms of audience members. He stops at one family, a mother and father with their two children, both of them bouncing on the parent’s knees. The children laugh and giggle as he makes funny eyes at them, and his toes click on the tile to the beat of his music. The lead player calls him back, and he turns, smiles through his mouth piece, and makes his way back to the stage. The crowd laughs as the lead player pretends to scold the renegade, and roar as the lead man begins to copy his movements. As the night continues, people leave and more come. They meet up in the street, chortling happily at bumping into each other, and talk above the music and laugher that plays behind them.  Even the moon listens.