Harbor Light Magazine

Snow, cliffs, trees, gravity, mountains and humans’ need for thrill.
Mother Nature granted us with these ingredients and what did we do? We tied sticks to our feet, threw ourselves off mountain peaks and slid down the slopes of behemoths.

Skiing has held a special place in my heart ever since my parents first flung me down Mt. Bachelor. I remember days full of jackets so big I couldn’t turn my head, helmets, goggles and my personal favorite, ski lifts.

But don’t get me started on ski school; these days gave me insight on life as an inmate. It was all worth it though, every frozen toe and finger, every wind burnt face and every endless ski class. Now able to brave the most daunting inclines and largest moguls, I have the whole mountain at my disposal.

I know Arctic, soggy, gusting weather might not be the most appealing conditions for fun. And any altitude above sea level is just too high. But you live on the Oregon Coast, home to some of the nastiest, hardcore weather around. So toss a handful of friends, a pair of long johns and tons of hot chocolate in your car and shred some slopes.

I recently conducted an interview with a male NHS student facing the internal struggle of coming out of the closet. The interview took place in my car, off-campus, as the student felt too nervous talking with me at school.

…

Avery: I know for me there was a defining moment when it hit me that I was gay. Did you experience anything like that?

Student: I can’t remember a particular moment. But sophomore year I had a crush on someone. When I finally accepted the crush, I knew. I’d been ignoring the signs since seventh grade.

Avery: How do you think your friends and parents would react if you were to come out?

Student: I think most of my friends would be pretty accepting. I’ve actually come really close to telling a few of them, but then someone makes a gay comment, and I change my mind. As far as my parents, I don’t know what they would say. I haven’t told them. In fact, I’ve only told a couple of LGBT people.

Avery: How do you think the school will react?

Student: I think people might be really immature. I think they might tease me. I’m afraid of harassment. I mean, I would love to be a role model for other people struggling with coming out… but I’m scared.

Avery: How has being in the closet affected your self-esteem?

Student: It causes me to be a bit depressed at times. I try to just hold it in and hope that things get better.

Avery: If you could send one message to people in the closet, what would you say?

Student: Remember that you’re not alone. There are other people in the same spot. They’re scared too. And if you want support, join GSA. It lets you know there are people out there, gay and straight, who support you.

Family issues such as fighting, distant relationships or maybe no family at all can all contribute to depression and loneliness. When things go wrong at home, they begin to deteriorate at school. Nothing seems right any longer and you feel the need for comfort. Alcohol gives a warm feeling to the core and the loneliness appears to have gone. But once it’s back, the longing to take it away returns also and you find yourself on the kitchen floor alone, drinking away the pain.

Other things can comfort those who use alcohol for this purpose. Wrapping yourself in a blanket, lying with your cat, listening to your favorite songs, reading, writing in a journal or blogging can comfort you and maybe take you to another place. If these materialistic items don’t help, try talking to a close friend or adult that you trust.

Alcohol isn’t the only way; remember that.

The wild that surrounds us here in the Pacific Northwest abounds with the luscious victuals from Mother Nature; learn to harness these and you will never go hungry.

The cold wintery days of this chilling season drive one indoors and out of the rainy muck. As I sit inside by the hearth with a book and a hot mug of Detox Yogi Tea, I find myself feeling incomplete. My perfect scenario lacks food. So, I head to the woods, searching for the wild ginger.

Let me introduce you to my wild ginger scones:

To harvest ginger, go to the woods and look for heart shaped leaves. The Asarum caudatum or wild ginger lies amongst the roots of powerful, 150-year old coniferous trees. Dig up about three ginger plants. Chop and wash the ginger root and sauté them in butter with about half a cup of sugar. Mix the ginger with the following: two cups flour, 1/3 cup sugar, one spoon of baking powder, 1/4 teaspoon baking soda, eight tablespoons butter, 1/2 a cup sour cream and one egg. Bake it at 350 degrees until brown.

Enjoy these vittles with your own cup of tea and find relaxation in a good book.

School Differences | Cheung

I went into my first period 30 minutes before the bell rang. Surprisingly, nobody was in the classroom. I expected to see many students preparing for what they would learn in the following year, like in Hong Kong. After the most boring 30 minutes, more and more kids casually came in. I wanted to stand up and say, ”Good morning Mr. Hanna,” but I stopped myself because I realized nobody else was standing up.

“What’s up? Dude, how was your summer holiday?” said one student. That was really a surprise to me because the question was from a kid to a teacher! All the staff at school are totally different from my country. Here, they seem like our friends rather than our teachers. We don’t need to say “good morning,” “good afternoon,” “goodbye” and “thank you” in every single class. In Hong Kong, if we treated our teachers as friends, we would suffer punishments such as warnings and detentions!

The lunch periods at NHS and Hong Kong True Light College definitely differ a lot. Everyone can leave by walking or driving. They can go to restaurants or home. There are many different choices: Burger King, Arctic Circle, Subway and even Chinese food! Therefore, most of the kids would rather go off campus instead of having lunch at school. I had my lunch in the cafeteria on my first day; it was so quiet and empty! My friends and I seemed to own the whole cafeteria. However, lunch only lasted for 35 minutes. It was shorter than in Hong Kong high schools by almost half an hour. I love and hate lunch at the same time

Oregon School VS. Italian School | Moradei

Florence, “Liceo Artistico L. B. Alberti.” The bell rings at 8 a.m., the door opens and everyone stands up: “Good morning professor!”  After three periods, the well-deserved 15 minutes of breakfast commences and then back to the books until 2:20. The countless scooters in front of the school leave the street and the bus stops get crowded. The Italian student’s routine is pretty different compared to NHS.

If you can stand the smoke, you can spend the whole morning reading the graffiti on the walls. Don’t tell anyone if you don’t wish to meet the mysterious figure that controls us from above: the principal. Only a few have ever seen her. Forget about friendly teachers; in Italy they are an endangered species.

No lockers, no clubs, no sports, no activities and of course, no spirit at school. Once I go home there are three possibilities: stroll around downtown with friends, independently practice sports, or more often, three to five hours of homework.

Full day assemblies occur less than once a month and attract only 200 out of 1000 students. On the other hand, students really feel Italian political problems and participation is higher in periods of school occupation. An occupation is a national student movement to fight against our governor’s bad choices and usually concerns a budget cut on education. During these periods, school is locked and professors are not allowed to teach. Classes are suspended for days. Unfortunately, it often turns out to be futile.

As teachers change rooms each period, I’m always in the same room with the same schoolmates. The same class I left last year will welcome me the next with the same people.

Throughout my time spent in school, teachers have touched on the horrors of the Holocaust, but I’ve never been exposed up close. Because of The Boy in Striped Pajamas, I experienced intense visuals and powerful emotions that I would have never otherwise imagined.

The 2008 film is based on the novel by John Boyne. Eight-year old Bruno has to move when his father is promoted to commander of a Nazi death camp. Next door, Bruno sees what he thinks is a farm where strange people work all day, dressed in striped pajamas. When he explores the property, he meets a Jewish boy named Shmuel. They become friends despite the separation between them.

Bruno, in his childhood ignorance, does not truly realize the devastation of these differences until he sees a Jewish man in their home severely beaten. He learns that this man, now an ill-treated servant, was once a well-respected doctor. But when he watches a propaganda film about the concentration camps, his beliefs become distorted. “We’re not supposed to be friends, you and me. We’re meant to be enemies. Did you know that?” he said to Shmuel. Such innocent things can only be said by children. Seeing history played out from the perspective of a Nazi’s young son makes it seem all the more tragic and unbelievable. Through his eyes, we learn about friendship, compassion and the necessity of tolerance.

The Boy in Striped Pajamas gives a heart-wrenching, powerful look into a historical tragedy that many people today don’t fully understand. As Bruno’s grandfather told him, “The work your father is doing here—history in the making!” Our culture has to understand history in depth so that such a mistake never occurs again.

I commemorate the defining moments of my life through music. Any time I hear a familiar song I go back to the moment when it meant most to me. I feel exactly how I felt and remember exactly what happened. That is the power of music.

For any emotion you could imagine, a song can compliment it entirely. I have a playlist for every mood or activity. I dream to mellow acoustic songs and exercise to upbeat pop anthems. The music’s mood affects mine.

Music influences basically everything I do and most emotions I convey. My favorite songs comfort me and old pop hits make me nostalgic. All Time Low and S Club 7 put me on cloud nine. It amazes me how music can help you relive your favorite memories.

When I hear Alexisonfire it brings me back to my first show in eighth grade, while Paramore reminds me of freshman year.

But for me, the best music strikes a nerve, saying exactly how you feel and helping you feel different. Sometimes lyricists can express your thoughts better than you. When you feel it to the core, music transforms you. It truly is a universal language.