I'm Maya. I'm African American, Filipino, Cherokee/Native American, Italian, French, Welsh, and Hawaiian. Quite multicultural, eh. I can speak and write Spanish as well as French, and I can write it Italian. I can recognize German and several Japanese characters as well. I'm in the eighth grade and I go to Roosevelt Middle School. I'm at the top of my class, I go through slight depressions, and I've had panic attacks before. I figured I would go through each chapter or section saying how I feel about subjects that relate to me. I guess I should explain something about myself; I don't integrate dialogue into stories very well. I can write a "hella-good" essay and I can create a story line that would shame all authors, but as soon as it comes to writing the dialogue and the banter- I blank out. I may just stick to stuff like this. So, on with my thoughts and the like.

Racism...

The other day, I went onto a chat-room, and was talking about my favorite subject - music. I must have been using a significant amount of overt slang because a girl came on and told me - told me - to stop using, and I quote, "black language". I got so pissed off that I went on and on for about ten minutes before I began to comprehend something. I can't revolutionize the views of the ignorant, but I can try to keep the analogous abhorrence out of my heart.

Pressuring Yourself...

When I first entered middle school, I was putting too much pressure on myself. I had to get straight 110% or I would pass out. If I forgot homework, I would have a panic attack before I realized I could finish it before class started. If I didn't win all the awards offered, I would become so depressed that I couldn't function. I didn't realize what I was doing until I stayed after school one day waiting for my mom to pick me up, and I saw how much fun everyone else was having. Juat being a kid. When I got into the car, I pretty much had a nervous breakdown. At 12, I had a nervous breakdown. I burst into tears and my throat tightened, and I couldn't breath, and my skin flushed - which with my darker colored skin inherited from my ancestors, is a terrific feat. My mother didn't know what to do. I didn't either. I hated that feeling, and from then on, I was more lenient with myself. Those feelings I kept bottled up deep in my psyche almost led to suicide. I still have the faint marks were I was planning on deepening the cuts with my mother's razor blade. It makes me sad to think about that. Even when those physical scars I inflicted upon myself fade, the psychological scars will always be there.

Sexism...

When the boys at school make comments about how the girls basketball team will never be as good as they are, I get pissed. Really pissed. This year, our team lost 1 game out of 24 with both seventh and eighth graders. The lost was for the seventh graders too. Yet, as the basketball season for boys progresses, they have yet to win one game. It really makes you think.