Columns

My first, more personal notice of the cutbacks in the print world of newspapers was from the San Jose Mercury News’ reduction from six Sunday comic pages to four. As a devoted SJMN comic follower, I was devastated. If a newspaper as prominent as the Mercury News was willing to cut back on the comics, it meant nothing was safe. In recent months, newspapers like the Rocky Mountain News in Colorado and the Seattle Post-Intelligencer have closed. Others like the San Francisco Chronicle may close soon because they’re losing millions as a result of ad revenue lost to the Internet.

I guess you could say I’m biased, being on the newspaper staff and all, but I truly believe that being able to wake up every morning and having the newspaper nicely bundled and wrapped on my driveway is a gift. The world news, community on-goings, and comics, printed and inked on newspaper-paper, is a great way to start the morning. Unfortunately, now there’s news of the decline, the disappearance, the apocalypse-of newspapers.

What exactly does it mean to be a man? I mean, what makes someone more “manly” than someone else?

I’ve heard several different theories out there, but it seems the most popular is this: Real men don’t talk about their feelings. They aren’t sensitive or compassionate. They don’t share their problems with their friends.

And they most definitely don’t cry.

Go into a parking lot, any parking lot in northern California, and I’m sure you can find at least one vehicle with a banana yellow bumper sticker on the rear of their car. Almost everyone recognizes it, and almost every local has visited this famous destination at least once.

“We’re soaring, we’re flying, there’s not a star in heaven that we can’t reach…we’re breaking free.” You probably know this song if you’re a Disney fan. If not, these lyrics are from a song called “Breaking Free” in “High School Musical” and yes, that’s right, I’m an avid HSM fan. In fact, I’m an all-around Disney fan. I watch movies from “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs” to “Ella Enchanted.” I listen to Disney music, from “Pocahontas’” “Colors of the Wind” to the Jonas’ Brothers’ “Burning Up.”

You may all think that I’m ridiculously childish, and that artists such as Leona Lewis and movies such as “Slumdog Millionaire” are more suited for people my age. But the truth is, those types of songs and movies simply don’t bring about the same feeling of relaxation Disney has always given me. Whenever I’m stressed out, all I have to do is put on a Disney classic and my worries instantly disappear.

My mom and grandmother flank me; my sister is half sitting, half lying down on top of us. We sit squeezed into two back seats of a car half the size of a normal sedan breathing the same sweltering, humid, stuffy pollution blowing through the open windows. The driver and my grandfather in front have the same leg space as we do: none.

The car swerves around a buffalo being milked, hits a pothole, stopping in the middle of the intersection barely missing a horse carriage, pedestrians, and cycle rickshaws crossing in front of us. Everyone bounces up an inch, bumps into the roof, and lands back into the dog pile. The deafening cacophony of honks around us only grows louder. No one is wearing seatbelts, but everything we are doing is legal. Well… welcome to India.

Sprinting across the shiny hardwood floors after completing my homework, I race into the office and quickly boot up my computer. Anxiously, I wait for Internet Explorer to start up, tapping my fingers nervously against the keyboard. Finally, the page loads and I urgently type in the URL, begging it to speed up. A few seconds later, a wide grin spreads across my face as I read the title “Updated: 03-2-09.”

It may seem strange that I get so excited for a simple updated webpage, but fanfiction.net has become my main source of reading material, containing millions of stories based on characters and settings from popular books, movies, and television shows. The website provides anyone with the means to publish their writing and receive feedback in a completely anonymous setting.

I used to have a fish when I was seven. It was a small, orange little creature always eager to see me–well, at least it didn’t hide from me under the coral when I came to feed it. As a young girl, I used to wonder what it would be like to be a fish in a fish bowl—being stared at all the time, and having to endure people tapping on the glass, wanting you to do something more? I never imagined actually having this experience—but oh, was I wrong!

I like taking risks, if they don’t involve anything too extreme. The only problem is, in the Saratoga environment, chances to go beyond the expected are rare. So when my newspaper staff decided to profile students and Falcon staff members who did something unexpected for a day, I viewed it as my chance to do something exciting and totally “Un-Grishma.”

When most people think of overalls, they think of the strange denim jumper worn by an old farmer milking his cow with a straw hat and dirty cowboy boots… or they think of the 90s. But hey, no one ever said it was impossible for a city girl to bring back this classic look. Besides, old styles are constantly coming back: converse high tops, leg warmers, shoulder pads even crazy bell bottom jeans have found their way to Cosmo. So, I guess there’s hope for me.

I defy the fashion police (a.k.a. every teenage girl) every weekend by sporting my very own pair of dark denim overalls, chest pocket and all.

Help! I’m drowning!

Between junior year classes, extracurricular activities and sports, I honestly don’t know if I’ll survive to see the glorified summer ’09 come around. Just in case I don’t, I’ve made a bucket list of things I want to do before I die from over-stressing myself: