Reasons Why Summer is the Best Season

Reasons Why Summer is the Best Season

Why you shouldn’t be Excited for it to be Gone
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September 23 was the official start of fall this year. I don’t get what’s so great about the fall. Other than Halloween, I don’t like it very much. Fall not only means that winter is coming, but it also means that summer has come to an end. Summer is my favorite season, so I’ve got a different perspective than most people I know. Here are the reasons why I’m going to miss summer so badly.

  1. Clothes
    It’s no secret that I’m short. The ‘short’ length jeans still barely drag on the ground when I wear them. Not quite long enough to get them altered, yet just long enough to make an annoying sound and get scuffed. Shorts are a much better option for my little legs. I am forced to retire the shorts at some point each fall or else I get too cold. As for tops, I’m normally cold anyway, so I have to start layering more. Its usually not as cold indoors, though, so I end up constantly being too hot or too cold. Plus, some long-sleeved shirts have sleeves so long I’ve got to roll them whether it looks cute or not.

  2. The pool
    Granted, I didn’t go to the pool much this year since I had so much going on with classes and extracurriculars, but, soon enough, the pools will be closing until next year! You never see anyone hanging out at the pool in the fall (at least not outdoor ones).




  3. Green leaves
    I don’t know what it is, but I’ll always prefer green leaves to the orange and red leaves of fall. Some people see this as “pretty fall colors”, but I see it as chloroplasts breaking down and leaves dying. Too scientific? Sorry!

  4. It gets dark later in the day
    The sun sets later in summer months, and summer nights are typically still warm. It’s like Mother Nature’s invitation to stay out a little later. On the flip side, fall nights become increasingly earlier and colder as winter approaches.

  5. Less school
    For some lucky individuals, this means no school. The summer season includes our traditional Georgia “summer break” from the end of May to the beginning of August. It’s a time to get out of the classroom and go on vacation or just sleep 24/7. For me, it means I have way less class time and more time to do whatever I please.




  6. The animals disappear
    You’d better say goodbye to all the cute squirrels and chipmunks soon, because even though they don’t hibernate like bears, they aren’t too fond of colder weather. I personally love them and think they’re adorable, so not seeing them is a bit sad.




  7. Fresher food
    Watermelon, strawberries, grapes, limes, blackberries, mangoes…the list goes on. All of these sweet fruits are in peak season in summer and may be grown locally depending where you live. The fruit is better tasting and lower priced when it’s in season. One of my favorite summer activities is going strawberry picking with my mom at Washington Farms in Loganville.




  8. Effects on health
    Research has shown that the summer season is good for our bodies in many ways. Summer is believed to be a time of relief for some people who suffer migraines, sleep disorders and skin problems such as psoriasis. Higher levels of Vitamin D may reduce risk of heart attacks as well. Additionally, people tend to be more physically active and drink more water during the summer, which is never a bad thing.




  9. So many things to do
    Maybe I’m wrong here, but it appears to me that more public events happen in the summer than any other season. There are indoor and outdoor concerts, festivals, fairs, an abundance of 5K runs, firework shows, giant water slides and more. Is anyone up for going on a giant water slide in November? I didn’t think so!

Feel free to disagree, but I will never change my opinion that summer is the best season. While it may have originally been due to the fact that my birthday is during the traditional “summer break”, I can still use all of these reasons to support my favorite time of year! So while all you fall-lovers are rejoicing over pumpkin spice lattes, I’ll be patiently waiting for summer to come around once again.

Cover Image Credit: http://quotesgreat.tk/

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Bailey Posted A Racist Tweet, But That Does NOT Mean She Deserves To Be Fat Shamed

As a certified racist, does she deserve to be fat shamed?
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This morning, I was scrolling though my phone, rotating between Instagram, Snapchat, YouTube and Snapchat again, ignoring everyone's snaps but going through all the Snapchat subscription stories before stumbling on a Daily Mail article that piqued my interest. The article was one about a teen, Bailey, who was bullied for her figure, as seen on the snap below and the text exchange between Bailey and her mother, in which she begged for a change of clothes because people were making fun of her and taking pictures.

Like all viral things, quickly after her text pictures and harassing snaps surfaced, people internet stalked her social media. But, after some digging, it was found that Bailey had tweeted some racist remark.

Now, some are saying that because Bailey was clearly racist, she is undeserving of empathy and deserves to be fat-shamed. But does she? All humans, no matter how we try, are prejudiced in one way or another. If you can honestly tell me that you treat everyone with an equal amount of respect after a brief first impression, regardless of the state of their physical hygiene or the words that come out of their mouth, either you're a liar, or you're actually God. Yes, she tweeted some racist stuff. But does that mean that all hate she receives in all aspects of her life are justified?

On the other hand, Bailey was racist. And what comes around goes around. There was one user on Twitter who pointed out that as a racist, Bailey was a bully herself. And, quite honestly, everyone loves the downfall of the bully. The moment the bullies' victims stop cowering from fear and discover that they, too, have claws is the moment when the onlookers turn the tables and start jeering the bully instead. This is the moment the bully completely and utterly breaks, feeling the pain of their victims for the first time, and for the victims, the bully's demise is satisfying to watch.

While we'd all like to believe that the ideal is somewhere in between, in a happy medium where her racism is penalized but she also gets sympathy for being fat shamed, the reality is that the ideal is to be entirely empathetic. Help her through her tough time, with no backlash.

Bullies bully to dominate and to feel powerful. If we tell her that she's undeserving of any good in life because she tweeted some racist stuff, she will feel stifled and insignificant and awful. Maybe she'll also want to make someone else to feel as awful as she did for some random physical characteristic she has. Maybe, we might dehumanize her to the point where we feel that she's undeserving of anything, and she might forget the preciousness of life. Either one of the outcomes is unpleasant and disturbing and will not promote healthy tendencies within a person.

Instead, we should make her feel supported. We all have bad traits about ourselves, but they shouldn't define us. Maybe, through this experience, she'll realize how it feels to be prejudiced against based off physical characteristics. After all, it is our lowest points, our most desperate points in life, that provide us with another perspective to use while evaluating the world and everyone in it.

Cover Image Credit: Twitter / Bailey

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I'm Afraid of Taking Medication Even Though I Shouldn't Be

There's nothing wrong with a little Advil.

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Throughout my childhood, my parents ingrained in me that taking medication was not only unnecessary but actually poisonous. We never had anything like Tylenol at home, and common cabinet inhabitants such as Mucinex and Tums were strangers to our walls.

Instead, they believed in healing the body through chakras and edible plants. If I ever had a stomachache, my father would break out his healing crystals and lay them on the flat of my back, chanting some song with made-up lyrics as my mother prepared essential oils for me to sniff before bed.

As a kid, I never really got sick, but my four-day vomit fest when I was six years old was only treated with spoonfuls of water, and the rash that broke out on my neck in elementary school was wrapped in a blanket of cabbage (yes, my mother truly believed cabbage could cure my hives). Since I was never really exposed to medication, I thought this was normal for most of my life. Once I got older, I noticed children popping Advil as if it was candy in middle school, and my friends were shocked that I had never even heard of it.

When I broke my wrist in the eighth grade, the nurse asked me if I wanted a prescription for any pain-relievers, and I adamantly refused. Not only was my father in the room (who also would not have approved of me receiving medication), but I believed that there was no benefit to it. My body would heal on its own, it did not need any assistance from outside chemicals.

After about a week, the pain became so intense that I no longer could sleep comfortably at night. This to be expected for anyone who breaks a bone, but every physical movement was virtually unbearable. My mother knew that I was desperate, so she purchased a small bottle and gave me a single pill.

Even though I felt almost instantaneous relief (as someone who never had medication, I knew that a little bit would go a long way), I was riddled with guilt. I thought I was weak for requiring medication to help me feel better. It wasn't that I believed people who took pills were inferior, but I was convinced that my body was strong enough to self-soothe.

Later into high school, I watched students around me ingest anxiety medication and anti-depressants, whether it was for legitimate diagnoses or during a party. I still didn't understand how or why they worked. How could a little pill somehow relieve the burden of a mental illness? How could an orange bottle be the solution?

I did not shame these people for using medication because I could see all of the benefits, but I was simply uneducated. I decided to do a little discovering and began to understand the (basic) science behind the process. Sometimes, the solution is adding more chemicals (in the form of prescribed medication, of course) to the balance.

Still, beyond medication for mental health, I find myself skeptical when someone offers me something as simple as low-strength ibuprofen for a headache. Every time I consider taking an aspirin, I am terrified it will somehow "taint" my body. Realistically, I know this is not true, but the voice of my parents lingers in the back of my mind.

I'm not suggesting that I should throw a pill-popping party, but the idea of taking something when my body needs it should not scare me. Our bodies are resilient, but we also need assistance every now and then. I should be okay with helping myself heal.

But I won't be taking one from that miscellaneous plastic bag that "helps you stay awake" during exam week.

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