Austin: Whole Foods is Ridiculous

My flight to Austin was short, but it consisted of two women talking over me in mixed hand signals and gibberish. I must have pissed them off by the end of the flight because they were pointing and motioning to me, probably hoping I wouldn’t notice. I did, as by evidence of this blog.

The first thing I did was go to Whole Foods. The person I’m staying with insisted that we visit the massive supermarket, as I had never been and it was a particularly large store for the chain. I guess it may or may not have been Mackey’s first location, but it was obvious that he had a part to do in the design. I enjoyed it, I’m making them take me back because I want to buy overpriced groceries.

My first day in Austin was great. I had great coffee, ate great Thai food, and visited a great supermarket. Living in such a small place has isolated me and made me forget that things like amazing coffee and ridiculous but fun grocery stores can exist. As I get closer to leaving for Montreal on the 20th, I get more and more excited to live in a bigger city.



Being Home

I’ve been having a lot of fun traveling this month. There are definitely aspects of traveling I find difficult, such as maintaining my healthy eating, my training schedule, and finding time to address all of the stress that comes with bouncing from city to city.

Senegal felt like a dream. I found myself calling home and saying “Hi, I’m in Africa!” This certainly started to get on my family’s nerves, but it felt so good to say that. I think that trip, in particular, proved to me that traveling is a true love of mine.

Now, I’m back in Cleveland. I spent the first thirteen years of my life in a suburb of this somewhat underappreciated city. I get a lot of flack for supporting this place, but Cleveland is a cultural hub. My love for exploration was fed by the diverse groups of people I met as a child. The West Side Market was the platform for these interactions.

I went to the market almost every weekend. I walked past the cases with whole pigs, Mandel splinters, clothespin cookies, handmade pasta, and men kneading bread for the next day. I talked to them, asked them questions only a kid would have the guts to ask, begged them to satisfy my curiosity about their culture.

They never could. My desire to learn about the world has yet to be crushed or appeased. Instead of going to the market and asking the old Italian ladies about their hometowns, I travel to their peninsula and experience it for myself. I hope I am never able to be content with this world. There is too much to see, too many problems to solve, too many unanswered questions. It’s funny to think that I have this crazy old market to thank for my many past and future adventures.


A Ballerina Scorned

This was originally posted on May 13th, 2018 at Original Path.

Relationships often form out of necessity and chance. My love for ballet was a complete accident and would have never developed if anything about my discovery of it had been different. There were and still are so many obstacles for me to overcome as a dancer, but it is easy to greet them with confidence after two years of watching myself grow after jumping over a hurdle. I needed ballet to push me to see those opportunities in a positive light. Until I started dancing, I thought school was doing something similar – showing me what I was capable of and asking me to push past it. After I experienced true joy in my work, I saw how poisonous my education had been.

I came into ballet through weird circumstances. I started in 2016 as an assistant to a dance teacher and when I took the job, I was just looking for a way to make a little bit of cash. However, my ambitious personality was intrigued by the high expectations of the technique. I started watching the Royal Opera House’s YouTube channel and fell in love with the grace and athleticism of the art. It was a quick addiction after that.

Fast forward to 2018, I’ve been dancing for two years and am now in a pre-professional training program; I’ve progressed faster than I ever thought I would. I often wonder what motivated me to work so hard considering all the odds that were stacked against me. From the start, ballet and I did not get along. I came to dance when I was 15 and refused every stereotype thrown my way. In my mind, ballet and everyone involved in the art wanted to see me give up. Many people have asked me why I didn’t quit after everything dance put me through. The answer is simple – and what connects this to compulsory education – spite.

Every human is pushed by something different, but my motivation came from the challenge. I was never, and still am not, good at ballet. I am physiologically disadvantaged for the technical style. External rotation of the hips is the most rudimentary idea in classical technique, and I have very little of it. Despite this inherent setback, I was determined to improve. It was as though someone had walked up to me and said: “you’ll never be a decent dancer, so why even try?” Ballet felt like it was goading me to dare to prove it wrong. So I took this spiteful attitude and I used it to fuel my training. Eventually, my application expanded beyond dance.

I will admit, in some ways this was not productive. Junior year was not an easy year for me and I didn’t help myself by trying to be number one all the time. With that being said, spite was really my driving force for a good year and a half. After a teacher in Pennsylvania recommended a dieting book for me to read, I knew I had to be successful so I could meet her someday and show her how wrong she was. Ballet didn’t like me because I refused to fit into the box it thrived in. Similarly, the school system didn’t like me because I refused to sit down and shut up for four years.

Similarly to ballet, I came to Moreno Valley High School due to some strange circumstances. My family had to quickly pick up and move during the summer of 2013, so my parents were pressed to find a school district they were happy with. MVHS had been spoken of as the “number one school in New Mexico” and was supposed to be based on a progressive curriculum with an emphasis on communication. This seemed somewhat accurate my freshman year. I enjoyed school when I was in ninth grade; the administration was stable, the teachers understood our relationship to them, and the general atmosphere was positive and optimistic.

Things became steadily worse from there, however. We’ve had four or five directors since I enrolled, my teachers and I fight almost on a daily basis, and the feeling of the school is reckless and uninviting. Some people may claim that my last two complaints are just symptoms of being in the same place for four years, and, although I am sure my senioritis isn’t helping these situations, I can tell you that I have been feeling this way for a long time.

Since sophomore year, high school felt like an ocean. Those who could tread water and keep their heads above the waves for long enough got to graduate, and those who couldn’t drowned. I was never in danger of drowning, but when I got a C my freshman year, it felt like I had swallowed salt water. That semester has haunted me ever since, freshman English becoming a blight on my otherwise pristine transcript. The next year was fine, no C’s but nothing incredibly impressive either. It was also the year I got in my first big fight with my history teacher. My classmates and I were panicking; we were all taking our first advanced placement class, and we could tell how far behind we were. The majority of us decided that our teacher’s methods were ineffective and needed to be addressed. As I mentioned previously, the class was an AP class, meaning the test at the end of the year could grant us college credit, so her instruction was a matter of our future. When I approached her to talk about the issues we were having, she refused to discuss anything regarding her curriculum and I, being an impetuous sophomore, immediately got upset. Quickly after our disagreement, I felt disheartened by the education system for the first of many times and, because of this event, my deep spite for academics began to develop. From then on, I decided that I would use my anger and frustration towards the injustice I was facing as a source of energy for my studies.

“Junior year matters” is what everyone told me, so I figured this was the perfect time to use my newfound aggression towards public school and live up to the challenge. That year, I took three advanced placement courses, registered for two rounds of SAT’s, two SAT Subject Tests, and two rounds of ACT’s. On top of this, I enrolled at a more formal ballet school and started dancing twice the amount I had previously been. I worked myself harder than ever before and reaped the benefits. By the end of the year, I had reached my goal of achieving a 4.0 GPA, and I claimed it was all thanks to my need to “prove them wrong.”

However, spite cannot provide an endless drive, nor easy to live with. It is more difficult to find your motivation from pessimism and animosity than I had imagined. After years of being compared to my peers through test scores, class ranks, GPAs, community service hours, and many more methods of inaccurate measurement, I was crippled and exhausted of the high school rat race. Again, I became demoralized by my quick burnout. Spite was supposed to carry me to the podium, not drop me halfway to the finish line.

I grew to understand that spite, while somewhat helpful in the beginning, couldn’t sustain me forever. Even as I had progressed in ballet, my dedication no longer came from the spite I once held. In fact, I’m not sure it ever did. I had never needed any vengeful spirit to push me forward, as my own desire to grow stronger and work hard for the sake of doing so was enough. Once I understood this, I had a similar realization about academics: I was no longer passionate about learning, I was competitive about scoring. Twelve years of public education had taught me to compare myself to others to improve my own performance. It took me almost that long to realize how impossible it is to achieve anything when you’re forced into the shadows of others.

Although I knew public education had turned me into a shell of a teenager who survived off of high test scores, I also knew that I had to get my high school diploma. As much as I wanted to throw away three years of unnecessary work, it would have been too much of a detriment. I decided that I needed a new driving force, one that was not rooted in success above my peers. Since then, I’ve spent a long time nurturing my sense of passion and understanding, which have proven much more enduring.

Spite is fun, spite is scorching hot and fueled by a need to prove yourself. This year, I’ve seen my dedication and love for ballet grow as I have become a stronger and more capable dancer. I now understand why I thought spite would help me climb the ladder; I had confused my overwhelming love for ballet with scorn for those that had promised me I would fail. I desperately wanted this to be the case with school. I wanted to feel the fire for learning and education rekindle, but it was gone. There were no more coals to burn. I wondered if my fondness for learning was really a fondness for the praise that came with being the best.

There is a fine line between being vindictive and being challenging, one that I could not perceive when I started down this path. Ballet had never benefitted from my failure like the public education system had. If I had only realized sooner that I had been entrapped in a lie. The lie that traditional school was my only option, the lie that I should be grateful for the opportunities school and only school could offer me, the lie that I was stranded.

Suddenly, I saw why so many students were bored and tired of traditional education – they had never been exposed to the full range of their options.

Ballet and school presented me the same options: do well and get stronger or refuse the work and risk losing your passion. However, I’ve only ever had a love for one. Both respective fields are so difficult to “do well” in, and I would never have worked hard in either of them without the incentives they both offered. The difference is, ballet provided me with happiness, purpose, and passion while school provided me with fear and ultimatums. Unfortunately for the public education system, students are opening their eyes. The false threats against our future are falling more and more on deaf ears as we continue to educate ourselves on the disadvantages of traditional academics.

Now we are seeing a surge in common sense and logic being used against public school. Just because students are young doesn’t mean they don’t understand the fundamental laws of give and take. Why would a fourteen year old who hates math dedicate his precious, minimal free time to studying it? The return on investment is nominal if anything. Sure, his grade in the class may improve, but his quality of life would most likely not benefit. Education is dangerous because it encourages us to hold meaningless measurements above things such as happiness, experiences, and individuality. By reinforcing this idea of progress regarding assessment, schools are setting an alarming precedent for how students will evaluate their own lives as they mature.

Education is not pointless, it’s just misguided. When the current education system was implemented, conformity meant success. It’s been years since we truly reformed our schools and the world has not stopped to let them catch up. We don’t need 500 copies of the same individual who’s taken the same classes and knows all of the same information as everyone else around them. We lack in specialization, and we lack in decision making, two qualities that our modern world demands.

Students have to be presented with a choice and a chance. They need to choose what they want to put their energy into, and they need a chance to prove they’ll work hard and stick to their decision. Compulsory education has boiled down to the idea that students have to learn the same curriculum regardless of their future plans because everyone needs a “foundation.” Why start them on the path of “jack of all trades, master of none” from the beginning? Why not ask them about their interests and allow them to design a course of study that reflects that? Why not take a risk and see what happens?

This is what ballet has brought me to understand. It is far too easy to confuse passion with fear. For a long time, I have been afraid of failure. I was worried that a less than 4.0 GPA would spell out defeat, that the C on my transcript from freshman year was unforgivable. Whatever your “ballet” is, whether it be writing or yoga or meditation, whatever drives you to be the best person you can be, be grateful for it. Many people will never have the opportunity to enjoy their one true passion; many other people will find what they love, only to have it shut down by the notion that it won’t make them “successful.”

The education system is brutal and becomes more competitive every year, but we must encourage our students to approach risk with a sense of confidence, especially if that risk could impact the quality of their future. As students are asked to avoid unknowns and mistakes at all costs, what we are actually telling them is that success should come immediately and that failure at first means failure forever. We are telling them that if they are not good at something as soon as they start it, that they shouldn’t waste their time on it. These ideas are fabrications and serve to simplify educational curriculum. It is those who refuse to conform that will leave an impact, as they understand that the world would be a dull place if we all listened to what everyone told us.

The competition, the repetitive courses, and the lack of autonomy that schools structures are based on strip young people of their natural curiosity and receptiveness to new ideas. If we want students who can think for themselves, who can analyze a problem and use their creative output to derive a solution, we should start by letting them make their own decisions and live with them. If we are not free to make mistakes, we are not free at all. We need to stop supporting such apprehension towards failure, especially within the first years of life.

Two years ago, someone told me I was ridiculous for thinking I could have any future in ballet with the late start I was getting. I was scared, I was worried that I was starting down a path that I would regret. I wondered if spending my free time at ballet lessons every day would be worth it. Two years ago, I was faced with a potential mistake, but I continued nonetheless. Two years later, my name is listed under the principal dancers in my final production, and I am going to study at a professional ballet school in Canada. Think about that the next time anyone tells you that your passion isn’t worth pursuing.


Ritsy cities like Chicago, New York, San Francisco, etc. usually share a lot of similar qualities. Dakar is the elite city of Senegal where the 1% of this mostly impoverished country ignore everything going on in the fishing villages and countryside as they party their life away.

Today is my last day in Senegal. I spent most of my time here in Mekhe, a small village about 90 minutes out of Dakar. That is where I expected to spend all of my time, working and creating plans and reports. Although I did spend quite a bit of time on that, I also traveled a lot while in Senegal. Dakar is not the truth of this country.

Yesterday, we went to a fishing village called Tivaouane. The roads were made of dark, deep, hot sand with goat droppings mixed in. Most of the villagers could be found along the beach, either catching, smoking, or selling fish. The kids were playing in the rough Atlantic, even though there were what seemed to be jellyfish litering the shore. Their boats represented their livelihoods.

You will not hear any words of pity from me. The Senegalese people, the African people do not need Western pity. The men and women of the fishing village do not want our pity, they want jobs, they want a functioning economy, they want opportunities to become independent.

African poverty is not a failure of people, it is a failure of democracy. Americans especially like to believe that more democracy is the solution to everything. Although democracy often leads to more economic freedom, it is not a solution on it’s own. Much more will have to be done before Senegal will see it’s peoples potential. Fortunately, there are people who do not waste time that work tirelessly to see this perpetual state of poverty end.

I will probably be writing about Africa for a while. I learned a lot while I was in Mehke and I see it as my responsibility to pass my newfound knowledge on.


Belgian Cappuccinos

When you’re sitting in a business lounge in Belgium drinking a decent cappuccino, you wonder about a lot of things. You wonder if you need a college degree to sip a cappuccino in Belgium while waiting for your flight to Senegal. You wonder why you’re in Belgium, why you’re going to Senegal, why anything you are trying to accomplish should be accomplished right now. Is this the right time to be on the bleeding edge?

Lately, I’ve been thinking about mistakes and their relationship to freedom. The famous quote goes “if you’re not free to make a mistake, you’re not free at all.” I think the mistakes I might be making scare people in my life. In history, there is a pattern of threats being made on national security and personal freedoms being limited because of that. Individual liberties are all we have in times of crisis. That is why war continues, why innocent people are always dying, why we can never seem to be entirely at peace.

So yes, I am in Belgium, I will be in Senegal soon. I want to continue to do work that doesn’t require a degree because this work has been what I enjoy the most so far. I am pushing against a system that has indoctrinated almost everyone I care for, and they are beginning to push back harder. I wonder how the next few months will go.