Reflections

The Reflections unit in senior year was about reflecting upon what made us unique as people. In our film class, we were required to create a video about the way we view the world and reflect upon it. I made a video about personality typing and how even though I love it, I know that it’s not healthy when evaluating my friends. In our digital media class, we made a rant-style video on an issue that we have perspective about. I chose being an extrovert being surrounded by introverts and my struggle to connect with people because of it.

Personal Essay

I wrote this essay for college in English class at Freestyle. This essay describes my struggles with being diagnosed with type one diabetes as well as how the diagnosis effected my relationship with food.

My fridge was a 300-pound temptress I couldn’t resist. Every night, I would find myself exploring my fridge’s interior for what felt like hours, staring into her blank abyss. Just when I would think I was done for the night, she would pull me back in and I’d spend another 20 minutes basking in her dim light. It became harder to resist her grasp, and I wasted almost every moment ravishing shelves for leftovers before bed, binging bags of popcorn if I was bored, or baking and eating cookies just because I could. She made food my safe space; it was always something that I never had to worry about, something I never lost control over.

Being diagnosed with type one diabetes threw our relationship off track.

At the ripe age of fifteen I was forced to burn down every wall of my food shelter and put up my own defenses against the very thing I once held so close. My life turned from spoons to syringes as I now carefully calculated every carb in my food and administered it through a needle in my stomach. I quickly realized how I took every midnight snack, every freshly baked brownie, and every piece of celebratory candy for granted. As my disease progressed, I learned that I had only been half-taught how to deal with type one diabetes. Sure, I received the supplies and medicine and was told how to check my blood sugar six times a day by pricking my fingertips, but what I was never told was how to adjust socially. I was floored when my closest friends would make offhanded remarks like, “So you just ate a ton of sugar and now you’re diseased?” and “I would buy this bag of Oreos but I don’t want to end up like you.”

As I watched my peers’ biggest concerns become their next math test or the boy they liked, I realized that I was given no choice but to grow out of my fifteen-year-old problems. A part of me was proud of myself for becoming so mature so quickly, but another part felt robbed blind. I was fifteen but forced to frontline a fight against my own body and win. Nevertheless, I was determined to get back onto the kitchen tiles, and I wasn’t about to let my pancreas stop me. It was true that nothing could replace the happiness that food brought me, but I was sure I could find something else in the kitchen that would make me just as satisfied. I thought back to before my diagnosis and searched for a way to enjoy my safe space again without worrying about needles or insulin.  

So rather than pouring food into myself, I poured myself into my food and started baking again for the first time in months. This time I baked not for myself to eat, but as therapy. There was something so simple and calming about the way a recipe laid everything out for me that made me feel more secure than I ever had since my diagnosis. I whisked my sadness into my cake batters, folded in my stress with chocolate chips, watched my anger rise away with my bread doughs. I even got a job at a bakery where I bonded with customers like a father and his diabetic son, whom I helped understand not only the number of carbs in the cupcakes we served but also diabetes care and how to adjust to a new diagnosis. Now my sweet tooth no longer ached to eat my own confections, so I gave them to everyone around me. Watching their faces light with excitement when I would surprise them with desserts was more filling than any late night rendezvous with my fridge. Even though food wasn’t my own safe space anymore, I knew I couldn’t let anyone else take it for granted.

Perspective Video

Film Video

I created this video about my struggles with putting people into boxes and using personality typing as a crutch when I try and understand my friends. I used my friend Kenneth as an example, stating all the arbitrary categories that I have put him in. This video is a reflection upon my experiences of putting him into boxes and being aware that putting someone into boxes isn’t productive, but being unable to stop.

 

LYRIC ESSAY:

This is a lyrical essay written from the perspective of a Chinese immigrant to San Francisco.

AmandaC-Listener Lyric Essay

 

RESEARCH PAPER:

This is a research paper about LGBT representation and its ties to our political climate.

AmandaC-Research Paper