Juliana’s Blog

Dear Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, When seeing the words “Christmas Bells” nothing fills my mind but the wonders of Christmastime. I recount on the distinct smell of the old box from my attic full of decor passed down from generations of women with the same face as me; I’m met with the credulously flutter my heart held within the hours before St. Nicholas arrived; the warm feeling that lingered securely knowing I was surrounded in a house of love. Perhaps this was what drew me in, the ideas I held of Christmas were far beyond just societal connotation, they were lived, valued, and more true to me than a lot of things I know. It seemed, when I began your poem, that you and I were much alike in this sense. You describe your own memories of the sensory Christmastime as “wild and sweet”, which speaks to my own delight in the festive time of the year. I wonder, Mr. Longfellow, what  those carols played. I wonder, if the magic of unity and melody fluttered your heart same as mine Christmas...

To leap knowing the ground will hold,  To name the stars without being told. To see a castle in a cloud’s embrace, And never ask if it’s out of place. This was my original poem, just a few lines explores the innocence and beauty of being a child. From there I transformed my poem to something, well completely different, as written below: Lines drawn with sticks and dirt aglow, Tell stories only a young eye can’t miss. Bewitched by natures pleasant hue, The gift of ignorance paints their fingers. With this they discover something bygone, Claim it vain in an imitating blow. Smiles reflect what they surmise, Doleful is, the true unknown. Originally, when I wrote this poem, I wanted to capture the beauty of the innocence found in children that they no longer have when they’re older, but I think instead I showed their ignorance to real world problems and the reality of growing older and facing these problems. Although it wasn’t my first intention to write a poem about losing innocence an...

I sought once. Just like Siddhartha and Santiago, I desperately searched for a path suited for me. As I have mentioned many times in previous blog posts and essays, fulfillment for me has been found through Jesus Christ. People say you must walk in Christ, but in truth, sometimes I find it difficult to even stand with Christ. I know I’m supposed to, I know this is what will guide me, as He has been faithful to me before, I know He will not fail me now. But still, I’m at a standstill. I used to feel seen in my youth group I now feel alienated in. I fumble when I try to practice what I preach, a fraud when I give advice I know I need to take myself.  This bothers me. There is still more, a lesson I’m planned to learn. I’m aching to reach ‘enlightenment’, to have everything in my life feel right, but it feels like I’m stuck on a long, winding road, with no map, no wifi, nobody. They don’t talk about that in Siddhartha and The Alchemist, the reality of waiting. And for someone as im...

                                                                                   Faith and The Absurd   Juliana G. LaPado Troy High School Student 12 AP Literature and Composition Mrs. Liamini January 17, 2025       Faith and The Absurd I’ve always been a believer. Santa Claus, tooth fairy, Easter bunny, Jack Frost - you name it, I believed it.  With growing age and abstract thought, however, my belief was proved childish, my reality discombobulated. Who could have faith in a magical pudgy man with a sleigh of flying reindeer? Or a cognitive bunny with a knack for painted chocolate eggs? Ridiculous, it occurs to me now. The only faith I could never rationalize to disprove is God, the faith the world cont...

This past Wednesday, I hit a families’ cat. Her lower body was caught by the weight of my wheel. I felt awful, pulling over, trying to solve a puzzle I lost the pieces to. I wept at what I took away. My day, my week, ruined - a feeling of guilt I’ll never mend.  Last Wednesday, I watched my sister’s cat die. I can’t erase the sight of her body on the road, the stillness after the impact. I moved through the rest of the day on autopilot, stepping onto the bus and heading to school, numb. She will be fine. Mom will fix everything. A lie, I knew. I was sad, but I couldn’t help being relieved. The thoughts echoed and taunted my resolve. At least it wasn’t my cat. On Wednesday, my daughter’s cat died. She bit into me so hard when I lifted her broken body, the pain still radiates. Blood ran, stained her perfect fur as I felt her die. I thought of how I’ll have to tell the rest of my family.  I keep envisioning the little house I was going to set up for her in the garage, the love th...

My sister today, when my brother was picking on her, kept looking at him and saying, “Vhat?” Her exaggerated accent amused my entire family - to my brother’s dismay. I thought it was pretty funny. I don’t think my brother did. There was a girl in my 2nd-grade class who always got picked on for being “weird.” I would join in sometimes too. I thought it was kind of funny. I don’t think she did. Once, I overheard a group of adults mocking a disabled person, imitating the way she walked and laughing about her terminal condition. I didn’t really know how to feel about that. The kids in my elementary school would bully and shove this boy around until he was injured. My mom had told me never to be mean to him. After she said that, I didn’t think it was that funny. At my uncle’s funeral, his veteran brother cracked jokes and laughed while the rest of us cried. My brother unknowingly laughed with him. I didn’t really think that was very funny. When my friends laughed at my little brother, teasi...