Stream of Consciousness

Christina Carefully. Deliberately. Meticulously. I placed my pencils neatly in a straight line on the desk in front of me. I tucked the rest of my belongings on the floor below me, and I straightened my spine in anxious anticipation. As the proctor distributed the SAT test booklets, I laid the dense packet of paper labeled with the daunting words College Board on the table, face-up yet closed. It was apparent that the room buzzed with tension. No one spoke a word, but our body language revealed our underlying agitation as we all stared down at the table and restlessly shifted in our seats. In the background, I could hear the proctor droning on about the testing policies; meanwhile, I was mentally reassuring myself that I was adequately prepared. Then, from my trance of self-motivation I heard the proctor’s voice pierce through. “Are there any questions?” Silence followed. “Then your time starts now.” There was a frenzy of rustling as everyone hastily flipped open their...

            Avery            “Baptism does not save you, this is not holy water, this is the Pacific Ocean, and it’s salty, and it’s cold!” my pastor Brian Howard tells the chuckling crowd of 330 people, 54 of whom were moments away from making a public proclamation of faith known as… “Baptism is a symbol of something that has already happened in your life.”              Primarily because I couldn’t stop staring at the roaring ocean waves aggressively lapping the sand a few feet in front of me, I don’t remember Brian’s exact words after this.              After talking about baptism with my friends at summer camp nearly every day, I came to the conclusion that it was the most significant next step for me in my journey with Jesus. On the day back from Murrieta Hot Springs, I texted my cab...

Christina (both 7th grade and present day) Today, I ruthlessly purged my bookshelves, and amidst the memories and the junk, I found some gems from when I was younger. The most significant being a writing journal that I used to document my daily life in. In it, I found an old story of mine that just utterly broke my heart. It was by my 7th grade self, titled Almond Eyes . Prologue In middle school, every aspect of life is a big deal, especially being popular. The first thing people remember about you is the “group” you are in. Does it matter what your name is or what classes you are in anymore? I don’t know. Chapter 1 The beginning of my story starts in a small, smelly closet with some broken chairs. It was the interview to get into leadership. Leadership: the name itself demands attention. A couple of other kids were in there as well, but they seemed insignificant at the time except for one girl. She sat there picking at her perfectly manicured nails completely undaunted...