“Room 323A” by Kelly Smith, Lancaster Catholic High School 

“Beep, Beep, Beep.” It is cold and the machine is a murky, hideous grey. It beats on steadily. The room is freezing, Room 323A, cold like an ice chest freshly stocked. I see through a clod of germs and vapor. There is a smell of putrid sickness in the air. Bleach, Clorox, and a mix of medicines waft into my nose. I am here once again after school to visit my mother. It has been two months, and Room 323A hasn’t changed a bit.

            There is still that obnoxious heater in the corner, clanking away, attempting to replace the crystal frost crawling onto my skin with a sticky spray of steam. I take a step, the tiles, slippery and weak, creak as I lean forward to say hello. The rough plastic of the bed rail scratches my skin. The buttons, raised and multicolored, work their magic. My mother is suddenly sitting upright. The clear liquid of the IV slowly drips, drips, drips. There is a moan in the distance. I know what this means. The sounds of suffering are everywhere. I am back here, in Room 323A. There is no doubt.

            Nurse Mary comes in, her thick red lipstick pops as she shouts her annoying, “Halloo!” I am not excited to see her. Her thick glasses are bottle caps resting on her pointy nose. I slouch down into the bumpy, stiff maroon “visitor’s chair.” It is as if I am sitting on a pile of rocks. My head pounds as the florescent lights shine brightly. Slow breaths prove to be mistakes as the daily meals are handed out. “Slap!” Those are mashed potatoes? “Crunch!” A steak? No. Instead, upon my mother’s plate there is a stiff, green blob of what appears to be the complete opposite of meat.

I like nothing about Room 323A. I look to my left, a brick wall sits right outside the window. The world beyond is shaded by the humongous factory waiting just past my reach. This room fits perfectly with my mood. I am sullen, dark, confused just like Room 323A. It is unwanted; no one wants to be in the hospital. It is overshadowed by the massiveness of this building of agony. I almost feel sorry for this room. Life is unfair, Room 323A, you’re stuck with your ugly green tile and your pale blue walls with stains that are unknown. Life is unjust, Room 323A, that my strong, brave mother is inhabiting you. I do not like you, Room 323A.

Sirens blare down below, and another unlucky patient arrives. Shivers slide down my back. I hate the shrill, ominous sound of the ambulance. Sneakers squeak in the hallway. Nurses, pure and sanitized in their colored scrubs, sprint by. Doctors, distant and wise, discuss patients. The world swirls all around, yet time stops in Room 323A. I am aware of everything. Especially now, a certain fly has occupied my attention. It has landed on the Mickey Mouse clock, another failed attempt to lighten the mood of the room like the flowers, balloons and the just-too-adorable “Get Well” Teddy Bear. I wonder if this fly too, is sick. If not, he should leave. This is not a pleasant place. I would not wish this place on a fly.

The IV fluids trickle on, sliding down the tube, slowly, methodically, sustaining my mother. It has all the power in the room. I stay still, so as not to disturb the master. I want this tiny, transparent tube to work without impediment. The machine to the left of the IV stand, which looks way too much like the claw of Grendel I read about in English class, is menacing. It taunts me.

“Beep, Beep, Beep BEEEEEEEP!” I leap from my chair and panicked, scream for Nurse “Know-it-all.” My heart is pounding a thousand beats per minute. It beats my pain like a drum line at full blast. For a time, I have lost my mother. Suddenly, like a wave of summer breeze, calmness reaches into my soul. I collapse into a chair. Room 323A has played a cruel trick. It has had an electrical surge. My mother is fine; the intimidating machine is not. 323A smirks at me. It is small, like a jail cell. I feel the walls closing in. Hours feel like days, the clock ticks, sounding out every hour like a slap across the face. I have spent too much time here.

Abruptly, I hear a click, then a creak. The door slowly opens. It is Daddy. It is as if this terrible room pulls him in. The door slams behind him. I regret his coming, for he too, is now trapped. He has come to take me home. Unexpectedly, I grip the wall of 323A like a friend. I instantly forget all of the faults of this room. I realize there is one quality I come to in this horrible, depressing place.

I lean down to hug her, she holds me tightly. I feel her love, and it warms my body. This icebox melts into a boiling pot upon the stove. I am overcome. Niagara Falls inhabits my eyes. The pink silk of her pajamas caresses my cheek, whispering, “Everything will be alright.” I’m not sure I believe this voice. It is an illusion, a welcomed one none-the-less. I immediately remember why I have come.

This despicable place has engulfed her. I feel awful, nauseated and dizzy for leaving her here. There is nothing to be done. I have fought a war with Room 323A, and it has won. Tomorrow, 323A, is another day. I will be back. Tomorrow I will conquer you with happiness. I will thrust greatness upon you. Room 323A will be melancholy no more. I solemnly make this promise, exit the room, and feel at ease. I can breathe easily.

My 15th birthday is one I will never forget. There wasn’t an amazing birthday party and there wasn’t a present that I had always wanted and would cherish forever. It was Monday, May 10, the beginning of my second period English class. I was sitting in my assigned seat at the front of the classroom and as my classmates walked in, they all wished me a happy birthday. Several minutes later, the teacher made an announcement. Dan, a friend I’ve known since the seventh grade, had committed suicide over the weekend.

Happy birthday.

When Brittany, a friend from the first grade, told me she was joining the military, I was both surprised and not surprised. I was happy and proud for her and at the same time, sad and worried. She’s not just serving for a few years either. She wants a career in the military. It’s not as if she’ll serve and then things will go back to normal. It’s a decision I’ve come to recognize, respect and support no matter what. I told her however, “Don’t you dare get killed, because I don’t want to report on your death. I wouldn’t be able to bear it.”

Recently a police officer I’ve become friends with told me he is being deployed to serve overseas. I don’t know the details yet, but the news was enough for me to feel the mix of emotions I felt when Brittany broke her news. I’ll admit, I got emotional. Not because we are close, because we aren’t, but because I would miss him during his deployment and our relationship plays a large part in my interest in police and military reporting.

At the end of the e-mail, he wrote, “Have a great holiday.”

I suppose things, in a way, are coming full circle. The officer who got me interested in police and military reporting is now or will be serving in the military. Dan’s passing affected me as a person and I have no doubt whatever happens, or doesn’t happen, with Brittany and my police officer friend will affect me both as a person and a reporter.

Still a bit unnerved, I went to the gym today (12/19), trying to distract myself, but the thought of a friend’s deployment isn’t something you simply sweat out. I went to the food court for lunch and as I took off my coat, I noticed flurries starting to fall. Last time I checked, the weather reports didn’t mention flurries. But some things come unexpected and you just have to deal with it.

**Wishing the brave men and women serving overseas the best wishes and a happy holiday. Thank you.**

On Monday in The Daily Collegian there was an article about a student who overdosed on heroin. This story is a shocker to the community, and made the front page.

As much as I wasn’t surprised, I was equally upset by the article. I didn’t know the kid who died. I didn’t know his family or any of his friends. It’s just hard to swallow knowing a promising life was cut short by such an evil in the world.

Heroin is a growing danger all over the country.Even in Lancaster, it is a major issue often not addressed adequately and no one seems ready to deal with the problem.

Drugs are a large problem on college campuses across the country. Yet, there doesn’t seem to be many anti-drug organizations to be involved with (trust me I’ve looked). I was fortunate enough to attend a high school with a SADD program, and yet again many across the U.S. make no effort to have one. I simply cannot understand why more emphasis is not put into campaigns against drug abuse.

So I suppose shocking news like this will never stop, and more disgustingly, will continue to surprise the community it occurs in. I am using this blog for something new today, a call for change.

Wake up. Deal with these issues at hand and accept they are there. Don’t pretend they don’t exist because of your “tight-knit community.” Something has to change.

All of my life I thought homecoming was only great for high school kids. Wrong! I am more excited for this year’s homecoming than any I have previously been a part of.

It makes me think back to my freshman year in high school. Ahhh, what a time. My first homecoming, I couldn’t tell you anything I was more preoccupied with. I asked a girl to go with me for the first time (and to be fair, I must inform you I made a wise choice; the girl I asked is currently my girlfriend now, four years later!), I got dressed up for the first (real) time, and I danced the night away. It was finally my turn.

Fast forward four years.

Well now it’s my turn to be the returning alumni, my first real “homecoming” back at Cocalico. It’ll be my first time not being concerned with the dance the next night. It’ll be my first time seeing old teachers from high school again. But most importantly, it will be my first time seeing my best friends since August.

The reunion is going to be glorious. We have plans for Saturday night to head to Philadelphia to check things out and see what’s going on at the historic Eastern State Penitentiary, which now features the “Terror Behind the Walls” haunted house. Then, of course, we’ll end up sleeping over at Ty’s. I don’t think anyone really knows what is going to happen; we just know it’s going to be fun.

So I wish good luck to all the homecoming court, go Cocalico, and long live the homecoming tradition… at least for this year.

Penn State is known to some as a land of opportunity. They would be correct. Penn State is also known to some as a place to party hard. They would also be correct. Penn State is known to others for its football, or its volleyball, or its field hockey…O.K. they’re pretty much all good. To be honest with you I don’t know if you could identify Penn State for just one thing. It is all of the above mentioned, and so much more.

I have been here for a little over a month now and I thought it would be a good time to write. I’ve always heard college is what you make it. This could not be truer than at PSU. No one is going to come to you, no one is going to ask you to do your homework, and it is honestly up to the individual.

So far since I’ve been here I haven’t missed a class. I also, unfortunately, haven’t been to a club meeting either. That is definitely something I need to work on. I haven’t been to a party (believe it or not it’s true), but I also haven’t sat alone every night. I think I’ve found a pretty good balance.

College is all about finding what makes you happy, what clicks for you. I encourage everyone to not be shy, not to hold back or limit their opportunities. Get out there, find your comfort zone, and go with it. It can make or break the “college experience” for anyone. Don’t sit back and wait for anything to come to you.

Well that’s about all that has been on my mind right now, maybe a few other things here or there, namely exams. I also can’t believe it’s fall and October already. Time sure does fly. Enjoy the weather, and take care everyone.

Here at University Park we are known for a few things. The first is the quality of education students receive. The second is (unfortunately) our students’ drinking habits. Thirdly, and (sometimes) most importantly, we are known for our football team. Tonight (Friday, Aug. 31) is football eve.

Across the nation college football teams and schools from division three to one are prepping for their season openers tomorrow. Penn State is no different. If anything we may take it a step further.

Tonight in the stadium and the parking lot, all the students from our university are invited to partake in pep rallies and listen to speeches from important personnel. I am personally looking forward to hearing from JoePa. It’s going to be a blast.

In a nutshell my past week has been fun. I moved in on Saturday the 25th, and started classes the following Monday. I like them all so far, and the homework load has been light. After a lot of meetings I am officially part of the Penn State community.

My roommate and I get along very well and the food has been enjoyable (especially the ice cream I eat after every meal). So far I’ve made the adjustment to not living at home and started to make some new friends. I wish all other college freshmen out there a smooth transition and the best of luck.

Oh, and in addition, go Penn State!

Their photos and fashion statements appeared in today’s Teen Weekend (Aug. 30). Here are a few more.

-Diane Bitting, Teen Weekend

Rebecca Irwin
Penn Manor freshman
Her fashion sense: “My style is really relaxed. I wear sweatpants and jeans with a nice T-shirt or a sweatshirt.”
What her style says about her: “I am a relaxed and laidback kind of person.”
Favorite places to shop: Gabriel Brothers, Wal-Mart or the mall.
Must-have items: sweatpants and sweatshirts.
Trends she has noticed: boys with long hair. “Some boys can pull off the longer hairstyle but others just need to cut it off.” Also: “Girls with long shirts. I like them a lot. They are better than when they were belly shirts.”
Why fashion is important: “It shows your personality and how you feel that day.”

Chance Glover
Lancaster Mennonite junior
His fashion sense: “I try to be, and I guess (look) like hippie or something. I love to be as interesting as I can.”
What his style says about him:  “Wild. Unusual. Never stays the same.”
Favorite place to shop: Goodwill.
Must-have item: A pair of Chucks  sneakers.
Why fashion is important: “It expresses who I am.”
A trend he has noticed: “Comebacks! The ’60s, ’70s, ’80s and even the ’90s are all making comebacks. Thrift stores are in, fashion chains are out! Check out the store Pop!”

Kendal Phillips
Penn Manor freshman
Her fashion sense: “I’m mostly preppy but I wear what I want. Even if something isn’t considered preppy, I still wear it.”
What her style says about her personality: “I’m usually pretty nice. At least I try to be.”
Favorite places to shop: Hollister, American Eagle, Pac-Sun, Old Navy, Victoria’s Secret.
Trends she’s noticed: scrunching hair (cute); flats (cute); long/low tanks (love it); guys in tight jeans (it’s OK).
Why fashion is important: “I think fashion is important as long as you’re still wearing things that you like.”

Alex Sheckart
Penn Manor senior
His fashion sense: “I consider myself a jeans-and-T-shirt kind of guy. I just like to be comfortable.”
What his style says about him: “That I’m laidback.”
Favorite place to shop: Kmart because it’s cheap.
Must-have item: white T-shirt.
Why fashion is important: “Fashion really impacts what people think of you and also what your personality is like.”

Janae Lapp
Lancaster Mennonite senior
Her fashion sense: “I try to dress comfortably and fashionably. I tend more toward classy things than trendy things.”
What her style says about her: “I’m sensible but I like to have fun as well.”
Favorite places to shop: Goodwill, Old Navy.
Must-have item: Good jeans.
Why fashion is important: “It is a way to express who you are.”

Hello there.

So where do I begin?

I’m at Penn State Harrisburg. Move-in day was Saturday. Good news: I was early and one of the first to move in. The on-campus apartment’s really nice and spacious. I’m not sure what to do with all the storage space at the moment, but I’m sure it’ll fill up throughout the school year. The roommates are nice. Bad news: I woke up with a cold on move-in day and so I’ve been sick since I got here.

That evening, my roommates and I were hanging out in our bedrooms when three guys invited themselves into our apartment. I was the first to come out and see what was going on. I thought it was volunteers coming back to help install the TV in the living room even though it was kind of late. However, the first guy was half-naked and so I thought, “Who are they and what the heck are they doing in our apartment?!” It turns out they were going around introducing themselves and inviting people to a party they were having later. My roommate across the hall came out and they went through the whole thing again. As they left, checking out another one of my roommates, my roommate across the hall suggested, “Maybe that’s why we should lock the front door…” (A lesson to any high school girls reading this.)

Sunday, there wasn’t much going on but another freshman orientation sort of thing. Boring speeches you can barely hear in a hot gymnasium and weird activities to get all of us freshman to interact. I have to admit I did make some new friends, but it was at the reception, not while sitting on a stranger’s lap, a stranger sitting on my lap or dancing backward. (Grab a partner, stand back to back, link arms and dance funny.) OK, the dancing backward part was actually kind of fun…

Classes started Monday and things have been going pretty well. Tell you all more later!

Last Thursday, at approximately 11:10 a.m., I lost some wisdom. Wisdom teeth, that is. What a cramp in my style.

As sad but true as it is, I had not been posting because I honestly have not been up to anything out of the ordinary. I haven’t been seeing movies left and right to review, I haven’t bought any new CDs, and I haven’t gone on any exciting trips. I have hardly even had time for my girlfriend and friends. All I’ve done is work, work and more work.

Now not to seem like I am complaining. I picked my job, and I liked it. Now, however, I am free of the 6 a.m. wake-up call for at least the first semester of college, and I have hung up the Clark and Son’s shirt for the summer.

Time to relax, right? Wrong.

With the remaining days I have left in “The Lanc,” as some friends and I call it, I had to sacrifice about three of them to a surgical procedure. Let’s just say it’s not exactly what I had in mind.

I still have to pack everything for college and I’m not even sure I have purchased all the things I need for basic survival. I guess I’ll find out when I get there and I’ve forgotten my toothbrush (Let’s hope not, especially after this.)

So I’m down to the wire with time, largely because of my own procrastination, and I get the wonderful experience of a wisdom tooth extraction. Wish me luck, and enjoy the end of the always-too-short summer.

Expect more posts when I’m at school; I anticipate having much more to write about.

Hello Teen Weekend blog readers!

It’s been a while since I last wrote. There hasn’t been much going on since the Biloxi trip: I went home, unpacked and situated myself to the comparably civilized life in Pennsylvania I had forgotten about during the two weeks. My tan has faded and the bug bites are gone. The Biloxi team, as we call ourselves, had a few reunions, which were all good fun.

I wrote several articles for Teen Weekend this past month – mostly music reviews and Chameleon Club concert previews. Lovedrug was a pretty good interview. The lady who set up the Pete Yorn interview scared me though. I didn’t expect to be questioned about my journalistic background and methods and whatnot. I suppose that’s more common with bigger acts. Had they asked me to sign a contract, I would’ve went running to my editors. (OK, not really…)

I’m taking a break from the music reviews and concert previews though. Right now, I’m working on an article about The Coffee Company, another piece to this coffee house series I’m still slightly clueless about. I’m also checking out a story on high school grads heading off to the military… I’ll let you know what’s up with that later.

-Diana

PS. RIP Mrs. Ressler, the nicest lady I delivered newspapers to. I thought you’d make it to 100. Thanks for the chocolates and afternoon chats.