Locals told me Arabs are not allowed to refurbish their homes under Israeli law. Many houses are not in the condition to be lived in. The Arabs I spoke with believe this is another way Israel is forcing Arabs out of their homes.
The marketplace is called "souq."
A lifegaurd tower appears abandoned along the Mediterranean Sea.
Another building that could not be refurbished.
A graveyard in Jerusalem.
The Golden Gate in Jerusalem is said to open when the world ends.
You may have seen her around campus – cheering next to you at a baseball game, representing you as president of the Resident Student Association, even sitting behind you in class. This soft-spoken, brown-haired girl looks like any other 21-year-old Cal State Fullerton student, but what sets her apart is her remarkable story.
Laura James has wanted to be a lawyer since she was six years old. She even dressed up as Judge Judy for career day when she was in the third grade. As she showed me her childhood pictures, I noticed something peculiar – the pictures suddenly stopped around seventh grade.
“I burned them,” said James. “I couldn’t bear to look at them.”
She held up a picture of herself dressed in green. She seemed shy, smiling politely for her school’s yearbook.
“This was the last picture taken of me before I was diagnosed with cancer,” James said. “I was 12.”
In 2001, Laura was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia, a cancer of the blood and bone marrow that is expected to take the lives of 910 people this year in California alone, according to the American Cancer Society.
“A man I’d never seen before, my doctor, sat on the edge of my bed, crossed his arms, looked me in the eyes and said, ‘Laura, you have cancer. You’re going to lose all your hair, drop out of school and spend a lot of time in the hospital.’”
After three rounds of chemotherapy, Laura went into remission for two short years. Though she was fighting for her life, she never really grasped the gravity of her situation.
“I didn’t understand what was happening,” James said. “I was so young and I didn’t know what leukemia was. In the beginning I didn’t get sick for a while so I thought it wasn’t all that bad … I thought, ‘This was fine.’ It really doesn’t hit you. I didn’t know what a big deal it was because I was a just a child. It was probably a blessing in disguise.”
At the age of 14, Laura needed a bone marrow transplant – she had relapsed. The cancer came back. Doctors put the teenager through three days of intensive chemotherapy followed by three days of relaxing and three more of radiation. The goal was to rid her body entirely of bone marrow to the point where her blood counts reached zero, meaning she possessed no red or white blood cells. Following that was a four-month hospital stay including five weeks of isolation.
“I was so sick and on so many medications,” James said. “Then I was on more medications to help with the side effects of the initial drugs. I slept through most of it, but when I was awake I just felt like the walls were closing in on me. It definitely made me claustrophobic.”
Although Laura was in isolation, she was never really alone. Her mother, Ruthie James, spent every night in the hospital, never leaving her daughter’s side.
“One year, the whole family moved into the hospital room to wake up together on Christmas morning,” said Ruthie. “I had to do what I could to keep the family intact. I couldn’t sleep. I still don’t sleep well. I haven’t been able to since Laura’s diagnosis.”
Looking around Laura’s apartment, I immediately noticed two things – one, it’s meticulously clean and two, everything is pink.
“Being in isolation for so long made me OCD about things,” James said. “Even though my counts are normal, I’m still a freak about germs.”
An entire shelf was dedicated to her extensive DVD collection, a list of books she planned to read hung on her bedroom wall and an entire corner of the living room was devoted to arts and crafts, revealing her three favorite pastimes – watching television, reading and making cards.
“It’s all I could do,” James said. “It’s all anyone can do when they’re sick. Even if I couldn’t go outside and be an athlete, I could still be creative. Even though my life was on pause, I could still live through movies.”
As of now, Laura is cancer-free, planning to graduate next year and continue on to fulfill her childhood dreams of becoming a lawyer.
The seven-year cancer survivor admits her treatments left their marks, but she isn’t shy about her scars. Her roommate, Valerie Caseria, 20, believes what Laura went through shaped who she is today.
“If she believes in something, she will stand by it firmly with no hesitation,” said Caseria. “She is an extremely strong-willed and determined leader.”
No one can argue against that. Laura is currently a team leader for the upcoming Relay For Life. She’s one of the top fundraisers and plans on making her own thank-you cards for every donor.
I’m one protest away from becoming a gun-toting NRA member.
On my way to class on Wednesday, I was bombarded with people putting signs in my face, telling me to do things like “cut from the top” and asking me questions like, “what about our future?” I let that slide; the protest was for a good cause.
Honestly, I’d have been out there marching with them if I didn’t have class. Then I wondered, don’t they have class?
It dawned on me that students were skipping their classes to protest a number of different things, one being the need for more classes. Is anyone else confused?
Cal State Fullerton President Milton A. Gordon addressed Gov. Jerry Brown’s call for a $500 million reduction in a state report for 2011–12 on the school’s website in January. He explained that CSUF students would face even more reduced classes and services.
Last year, Gordon announced that undergraduate fees would increase from $3,685 per year to $4,662, admissions would be reduced, salary and hiring freezes would be instituted and furloughs would be negotiated.
According to the school website, last year Gordon wrote that the budget deficit is the largest in the CSU’s history and is a result of the state’s lack of support to the CSU in the face of California’s $26.3 (now $25.4) billion budget gap.
Now, I’m all for freedom of speech. The First Amendment protects our right to peaceful demonstrations, and we should not take these budget cuts lying down.
So don’t get me wrong, I’ve been at the front of marches, and I encourage everyone to fight for what they believe in. But understand who your audience is.
When I see students marching together, standing up for their rights and taking a stand, I feel proud and inspired. When I see students waving signs and hollering on a campus filled with students and faculty who are all affected by the issue, it takes every ounce of self-restraint to keep me from grabbing one of their megaphones and telling them to get out of my face.
Because we know! We all know! I get it, you’re mad, but you’re preaching to the choir.
Maybe it’s just me, but trying to hear a professor lecture over foghorns and shouting got old fast.
Protests are taking place statewide. According to San Jose Mercury News, UC Santa Cruz protesters gathered to spell “Free Education” with their bodies. ABC 7 reports CSU Northridge students protested all of Wednesday and the Associated Press reports students are staging walkouts and rallies nationwide.
It’s all pretty mild so far; let’s try not repeating the 2010 budget cut protests. Last year, the New York Times reported that more than 150 people were arrested after stopping traffic along an interstate in Oakland. At the University of Wisconsin, 16 people were arrested when protesters tried forcing their way into administration offices while throwing ice chunks at campus officers.
Now is that really necessary?
It’s one thing to spread awareness; it’s another thing to disturb classes. Los Angeles Times reported incidents during the 2010 protests at UCLA where human chains blocked entrances to buildings. Way to fight for your public education while disrupting everyone else’s.
And walking out on classes to protest for public education seems a little ironic, doesn’t it? Sounds like a waste of money, much like all the taxpayers’ dollars spent on hiring extra shifts of police to monitor the demonstrations.
Frankly, protesting on campus is counter-productive. Quit telling students and quit skipping class. Missing classes hurts no one but you. Take your protest to the regents, the state legislature, our governor, anyone else. Write letters! March peacefully! Just not here.
Complaining about budget cuts to the students and faculty affected by them is like protesting U.S. occupation by marching around Afghanistan.
We know. We’re in the same boat. Please stop yelling at me
Valentine’s Day, aka Singles Awareness Day or SAD, the Hallmark Holiday, Monday – today bugs me, no matter what you call it.
Even with a boyfriend, this “holiday” is overrated. I don’t like chocolate and spoiler alert: roses die.
What bothers me the most is despite thinking the whole day is cheesy, if my boyfriend doesn’t do anything for me, I’ll get pissed. And I’m talking the whole shebang – flowers, candy, jewelry, dinner, unicorns.
If he doesn’t buy me roses, people (including me) will judge our relationship. They’ll assume he doesn’t care, doesn’t appreciate me or doesn’t measure up to their significant other.
As much as I’d like to tell them all to suck it, I still care what they think. I’m only human. (According to my doctor… but he doesn’t believe in elves.)
There’s too much pressure on the relationship! Expectations are always high and it’s safe to say someone will end up disappointed.
I blame consumerism.
February 14th is now associated with excessive spending, on the man’s part of course.
According to the Greeting Card Association, about one billion valentine cards are sent each year, making V-day the second largest card-sending holiday to Christmas. According to History.com, 85 percent of all valentines are purchased by women.
I repeat, 85 percent of all valentines are purchased by women. That doesn’t sound right. According to every commercial ever made, men are the ones buying the gifts. Something smells suspicious. (I’m not sure what that smells like, but just go with it.)
Why does one day out of the year mean more to a relationship than the other 364? What is the motive behind Valentine’s Day?
Urban Dictionary defines Valentine’s Day as, “The reason so many people are born in November.” (Moment of silence for all you November babies who just pinpointed the exact date you were conceived.)
History.com tells the legend of Saint Valentine – a priest who served during the third century in Rome. (Side note: If St. Valentine’s day is associated with Christian and ancient Roman tradition, should people of other religions be celebrating? Or is it like Christmas where the Jewish kid has their menorah but gets a tree to not feel left out?)
Emperor Claudius II outlawed marriage for young men after figuring single men make better soldiers. (I disagree, wouldn’t married men have more to fight for?)
Valentine defied Claudius, thinking the decree was unjust. He continued to marry young lovers in secret and after he was discovered was put to death. As one legend has it, Valentine wrote his jailer’s daughter a love letter, which he signed, “From your Valentine.”
Years later some random pope declared February 14 St. Valentine’s Day.
…And there you have it.
No mention of roses, diamonds or chocolates.
No chubby flying babies shooting magical arrows. Just a hand-written love letter. (If Valentine’s Day is about St. Valentine, where the hell did cupid come from? The whole thing is shady.)
I miss the days of passing out pre-made valentines taped to a lollipop to everyone in my class. In those days, you weren’t allowed to pick and choose who gets a valentine, everyone got one. (A Lord of the Rings card if you were lucky enough to be in my class.)
No pressure, no hurt feelings, just a ton of candy and hobbit greetings.
And that’s the way I liked it.
Now that I think about it, I don’t care what my boyfriend does for me as long as I get that lollipop.
Most columns have themes. Most columns have focus. Mine does not.
Why? Because I do what I want.
This semester, I’m going to write about whatever crosses my mind. I don’t like being confined to a certain topic, and since I’m the opinion editor, I intend to express my opinion. That’s the power of the press.
According to Dictionary.com, a la mode means three things: 1. According to the prevailing style or fashion, 2. Braised with vegetables in wine and 3. Served with ice cream. I am none of the above; I just thought it would make me sound sophisticated.
I’d like to introduce myself, but we all know you can’t really “know” a person unless you’re friends on Facebook. (That's not an invitation to add me.)
Let me brief you: My profile picture is of my boyfriend and I (he made me), my last status was about picking up my friend from a bar before noon (Cole) and my about me is a quote by Marilyn Monroe (because I’m classy).
That’s pretty much all you need to know about me – no one cares about the important stuff like the fact I’m a journalism major with a minor in political science, I’m graduating this May and I invented the Snuggie in the fourth grade.
This week I begin my final semester at Cal State Fullerton, and while my peers are celebrating, I’m trying to keep my food down.
I am absolutely terrified of graduating.
Graduating college means entering the real world, growing up and functioning as a working member of society – all things I’d rather do later. Facing the reality of finding a job in this economy makes me want to stay in school. I’m not too willing to give up freeloading off my parents (who’ve threatened kicking me out of the nest for the past three years…for the record, I’m still living there.)
According to the Los Angeles Times, “The typical college graduate has virtually no assets and about $23,000 in debt -$20,000 in student loans and $3,000 on credit cards.” On top of that, the average job search takes about five months, according to the U.S. Labor Department – and unemployment rates have increased since then. How about we stay in college till it all goes away?
I understand that receiving a diploma is a huge step in our adult lives, but I’m not ready for it. I’m comfortable here where I discuss and observe the world beyond the classroom, not partake in it. Am I alone here?
College is my bubble, and until the mess outside is fixed, I’d like to stay here.
I’ve decided to start parking in President Milton Gordon’s garage.
I’m sure he’d understand my frustration. See, I’ve probably spent a year of my life waiting for a parking spot.
It’s safe to say I spend more time trying to get to class than I spend inside the classroom.
When parking starts affecting grades, shit gets real - it should not be this hard to get to class.
According to Fullerton.edu, 35,590 students were enrolled in the fall semester of 2010.
According to the Los Angeles Times, nearly 95 percent of those students arrive every day by car. That’s 32,031 students driving to school.
According to our school website, there are 11,090 parking spots including the new structure in Lot E.
I’m not great with numbers, but 11,090 parking spots for 32,031 commuting students sounds a little off. Where do the other 20,941 cars go? Either President Gordon can’t count or he just doesn’t care.
The CSUF Budget Report lists under the university revenue budget (for the fiscal year of 2009 to 2010): Parking fund $8,319,000; Parking fines and forfeitures $1,393,000.
I stared at the budget for a while, examining charts and graphs, looking up words I’ve managed to avoid my entire college career like “revenue budget” and “expenditure report.” (Side note: 68 percent of the reason I chose my journalism major is to avoid math classes. Don’t ask how I calculated that, just accept it.)
So I pulled out my calculator and attempted to understand the budget in the simplest way possible. If a parking permit costs $220 and there are 11,090 of them, the school should be making around $4,879,600 per academic year from selling parking permits alone.
Since the parking fund is listed as $8,319,000, the school is selling over 15,600 parking permits (per academic year) for spots that do not exist. How thoughtful.
The LA Times reports our school collected more than $1.275 million in parking tickets from students, visitors and even faculty members.
Where is the money going?
According to the school website, 38 percent of the total revenue was allocated to operating expenses (including department employee salaries and benefits). How about using the money to create more parking spaces? Light bulb.
The school website also suggests alternate means of transportation. Examples: carpool or take the train. Then take the bus from the train station to school… meh. Too difficult.
I want to be able to drive from my house which is only 15 minutes away, find a parking spot in five minutes, then get to class on time. Is that too much to ask? I shouldn’t be jumping hurdles and passing obstacle courses to get to school every day. It’s ridiculous.
What can we do? Stop buying parking permits! Buying one does not guarantee a spot.
My solution: walk, don’t wait. I park in the neighborhoods around the campus and take the 15 to 20 minute walk to class; it’s faster than circling the parking lots and it saves $440 a year.
I also see people parking along Commonwealth Avenue, taking bikes out of their trunks and cycling to school.
At this point, if I can’t find a parking spot less than a 15-minute walk away from campus, I just turn around and drive back home. It’s getting old, I’m over it.
And after I park in President Gordon’s garage, we can carpool to school.
