If I had to define everything about me on a piece of paper, it would be a different story each time I wrote it. It seems difficult to characterize myself because I am still growing up and I have a lot to learn, however after 18 years of being Olivia Stofko, I suppose I must have a story to tell. What, who, how am I? It may be better to ask, what is I? The phrase, “Your past makes you, you” is true because the past influences who I am as a person. Everything I went through with the people I have grown up with affects who I am today. My past contains many stories and events that make up the memories I have of my childhood and youth. If I had never met someone before and wanted them to know more about me, I would tell them to look around my room, read parts of my journal, wear my clothes, scroll through my iTunes library, chew my favorite gum or smell my perfume I put on everyday. A good place to start in finding more about my life would be to read my journal because it is a device that reflects my past. Combining all five senses together would not be sufficient in finding out who I, Olivia Stofko, truly am. Although there are five senses, I do believe that another sense is on the brink of making the five senses into six.
Growing up in a household with two married parents and a younger sister, there was always enough love to go around. If we had visitors over, it was always my mom who hugged them goodbye instead of a casual wave. When I was a little girl I remember loving to cuddle with my mom or dad because of the secure feeling I had when I was with them. Anytime a thunderstorm would occur in the early hours of the morning, I remember rushing over to my parents’ room because that is where I felt the safest. Today, I am close to my family because of the content feeling I have when I am with them. I know I can always depend on them to help me during good and bad situations.
Family is one of my top priorities, along with school, relationships and friends. I often receive compliments about how much I am like my mother everyday, or the fact that I have my father’s motive to achieve all that I can. I have been told that my friends and family have a major impact on my life, which is mostly a good thing. I am one to pick up different sorts of lingo, styles and opinions from my friends. I like having different sorts of friends because they give me the chance to view different opinions on life. The more assessment I receive from people impacts me to form opinions of my own and create a complex knowledge of different ideas and judgments.
Using the five senses, could one know everything there is to know about another person? My answer is no, because underlying the senses of touch, taste, smell, hearing and vision, I believe there is a sixth sense. It is not enough to buy the same clothes, listen to the same music, or smell like another person to achieve a better understanding of their life. What about how they react and behave in situations? One person may have a different interpretation on how behavior should be conducted than another person does. In my eyes, I am a friendly, outgoing individual with an optimistic approach on life, however I have been described as shy, kind, goody two shoes, and silly. My friends would describe me differently than my family would, because I know I act in a different manner around certain people. Upon first meeting someone, I always try to be nice and respectable so that the person will think of me in a good way. First impressions are fun because I can be anyone I want to be. I always wanted to be one of those kids who moved around the country because of the opportunity to meet many new people from different schools. In part of the song Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve, the lyrics say “…I’m a million different people from one day to the next.” I think that set of lyrics is a great way to state how I feel when I am around anyone, stranger or friend. I even act different around certain friends because it depends on how I relate and interact with them. Some friends are for crazy times, while others are for coffee and listening to music times. I think that once I make a friend, I have a consistent attitude, but I know my attitude is slightly different with each person I talk to. Inside my sixth sense I analyze how I interact with people and why I do so. There have been times when I cannot explain why I said something or the way that I acted, however it is all a part of being me and I accept the fact I am who I am.
I have never experienced a traumatic event in my life to make me appreciate everything I have. Reading other people’s stories about how they have overcome something tragic in their life made me realize that I have nothing interesting to write about if I was to ever publish a novel. The closest story I have to a tragic event was when my best friends’ mom died three years ago. It was a dreary Monday in May and the radio in the kitchen was talking to itself about the bad weather and the condition of the roads. I could hear my mom’s muffled voice in the next room and after a short conversation she hung up the phone. She called my name and told me that we were going to a hospital for cancer patients and to hurry because she wanted to leave at that moment. I remember driving a good distance before we arrived at a large brick building with four white pillars at the top of the concrete stairs. Making our way through the hallways, which smelled of cleaning solution and medications, we were lead into a cramped room, which my best friends’ mom was in. Throughout the couple years we knew she had cancer, we never thought we would experience this day already. My best friend never cried about any of the hard times she faced as a kid, growing up with divorced parents and living with her mom who had cancer. As soon as she saw me walk into the room, she took me out into the hallway and embraced me, sobbing heavily on my shoulder, which in turn, made me cry as well. At that moment I realized how much she truly valued our friendship and who I was to her. Shortly after my visit with her, the beeps of the heart monitor slowed down and eventually stopped. I know my best friend did not like me for the clothes I wore, the music I listened to or the cliques I was in, she liked me for who I was and how I understood her. I will never forget that moment she did not let go of me because it was one of the most emotional experiences I have ever had.
New and profound thoughts soared into my mind after her death, thoughts about how good people always go first, and not the old and mean ones. After realizing that statement was the wrong way to think about life, I immediately turned to loving my friends and family more, especially my mom because time goes faster than there seems to be enough for it. Death has never scared me nor, have I allowed it to. Hollywood can make death seem evil or okay depending on the film produced. Dying is a haunting thought only because no one has had a first hand experience and lived to tell about it. I sometimes wonder what my afterlife will be like, and immediately evaluate what I have done as a person. Growing up in a catholic church, there is no room for the words, “there is no heaven, there is no hell or there is no God.” I find religion to be fascinating and at the same time just stories that our ancestors have made up to become well rounded. I am not exactly sure what I believe because there are a lot of questions unanswered. Even if my beliefs are uncertain, I am still glad my parents made me go to church every Sunday because I now understand why I was forced to sit through those boring lectures. Church and Sunday school became a learning experience which I did not realize until I stopped going. Listening to the readings at 11:00 mass made me appreciate the morals in each story. Whether true or not, those stories came from people who knew right from wrong. I now appreciate what the readings have to say because I don’t have to necessarily believe in the religion. By understanding the church’s readings, I can choose whether or not to believe what I want. I am not sure if I will ever come to a conclusion on what I believe and understand, however I am allowing myself to be open with new ideas and opinions on the subject. My favorite time to go to church was definitely Christmas Eve when everything was so colorful and warm. The scent of the four Christmas trees at the front of the church enriched the aisle, alter and pews. As a kid, I remember always wanting to see the large nativity in the back with tiny candles lit all around it. The baby Jesus was not placed in the manger until Christmas day, but there was still a blue light that illuminated the rest of the scene. Anytime the word “nativity” is spoken, my mind immediately replays the image of my church’s nativity. Each year became easier to sit through the hour-long service at 7pm because as a kid, everything seems to take a long time. Today, I simply enjoy the fact that I can spend time with my family during a candlelit service on the greatest night of the year.
As a kid, everything in life seemed simple and carefree. I remember playing barbies with my sister and cousin, collecting beanie babies, going to fun forts and not worrying about the amount of candy I consumed. After the calamity of middle school, everything went from being carefree to caring about what everyone thought of me. I don’t think I was quite affected by the tweenage drama because of my other best friend, Emily. Emily and I were fortunate to have every single class of our three years of middle school together. Our mothers met when we were 11 and 13 months, and since then, we have always been the best of friends. Throughout the awkward middle school years, she helped me feel less self-conscious about myself. Even though the “popular” girls paid no attention to us, it did not matter because we had each other’s company along with a few close friends.
