tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9550226602589540312024-03-05T23:49:20.326-08:00Sleep on a cloud A place where random thoughts rain down.
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05649125903162747554noreply@blogger.comBlogger82125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-955022660258954031.post-41266724577852462242015-06-23T10:48:00.001-07:002015-06-23T10:57:41.110-07:00Adventures Working Retail<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Random old guys.</span></div>
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<img src="http://www.iranvisitor.com/images/content_images/baklava-2.jpg" /></div>
I was organizing a display when an old man came up to me and began complaining about the price of our store's items. This happens so often. It's as if customers think I actually have control over product prices. <br />
"Is too expensive!" he said sternly. "All this... cost too much!" He had a serious look in his eyes, and, this being my third day, I was unsure how to respond and fell back on the default sales-associate smile and nod. That seemed to invite him to banter on. "You know," he paused dramatically, "Some people have houses for two million dollars. Two million! There are people so low and people up in space."<br />
"Whoa," I replied. "People are up in space now?" <br />
"No no, not in planets," he sighed. "My English is not very good," he shook his head. He talked at a slow pace, uttering each word with heavy care. "Some people live on one dollar a day. I know these things because I went to university." At this point, I was kind of staring at him like, why are you talking to me? I work commission, and I'm trying to sell things to people. All these paying customers are waltzing buy. Ugh, so many lost sales. You are obviously not going to buy anything. <br />
"Where are you from?" I asked.<br />
"I am from Iran. Do you know it?"<br />
"Is that where people speak Arabic?" I asked. I'm definitely not as worldly as I'd like to be.<br />
"No no, Arabic is for Egyptians," he gently corrected. "I speak Farsi."<br />
"How do you say 'hello' in Farsi?" I inquired.<br />
"Salaam," he said with a smile.<br />
He then continued his depressing train of thought, "How much you have to work to make 1 million dollars?" I made my guesses, to which he shook his head. "Five years if you spent your money on nothing else." If this conversation couldn't get any more depressing, he started talking about how "People...there are so many<i> dying </i>from sickness!"<br />
To which I replied, "Oh yeah, Ebola's pretty bad right now."<br />
"Yes, <i style="text-decoration: underline;">Ebola</i>," he stretch out the word.<br />
"And some people just die from diarrhea because of unclean water," I added. He proceeded to discuss his own illnesses. <br />
"I have convulsion. I am shaking," he noted his arms. I had noticed them, flesh withered with age, vibrating uncontrollably. "My body is shaking. I am<i> seventy-five</i> years old. I have diabetes," he sighed.<br />
"Well, at least you don't have Ebola."<br />
"Ahahaha..." he laughed for the first time in our conversation. Yes, he has a sense of humor!<br />
I replied, "It's a good things I don't have diabetes because then I would be <i>so</i> sad. I love ice cream."<br />
"Ice cream," he laughed. "Cookies, cake! I eat everything you eat and more even though I have diabetes."<br />
"That's not good for you!" I replied.<br />
"Not good!"<br />
"Do you recommend any Persian desserts?"<br />
<i>Baba... </i>I woman called across glass bays of fine jewelry.<br />
"I'm here!" he said. "My daughter." He mentioned to a woman in her mid-thirties holding multiple shopping bags. She looked rushed and modern, a contrast to her patient and rustic father.<br />
"Baba, let's go," she commanded. <br />
"Salaam," I told him as he was being shuffled away by his daughter.<br />
He smiled goodbye and said, "Try. try the.." (I didn't catch the last word, but I think it was the name of a Persian dessert.)<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Personal shopper.</span></div>
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<img src="http://www.viaspiga.com/FlashProductImages/With%20Shadows/EC2505108/2pa.jpg?trim.threshold=105&width=400" height="263" width="400" /></div>
A peppy Asian mom was flipping through our sparkley costume jewelry. I approached her as I did most customers with a "Hello! What are we shopping for today?" I was glad that she did not respond with the classic *sigh*/glare/"Just browsing." Instead, she was eager for advice. "I'm looking for jewelry to go with my dress. I am going to a wedding!" After showing me an image of her dress, a black midi with gold detailing, I led her to our gorgeous selection of gold jewelry with radiant crystals. I immediately pulled my favorite pair of earrings and the matching bangle. "I love your taste," she laughed.<br />
"I love your purse!" It was a nude Kate Spade hand bag in a classic, round silhouette. I told her that it was nude and would match with anything. She also wanted new shoes for the occasion, and I suggested a nude to match the purse and also be versatile for everyday. She was so pleased with my advice that she asked me to help her out in the shoe department (yay, my first time branching out of jewelry.)<br />
Her son arrived at the store as we were browsing heels that were "too high!" for the wedding and definitely to be a comfortable everyday pair. I then pulled a chic pair of Via Spigas. They were nude (I am a big believer in versatility!), comforatble (low heel), and just trendy enough with a modern open sandal detail and cross ankle straps to impress at a wedding occasion!<br />
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After I rang her up, she put her right arm around my left and started guiding me out of the mall so that I could help her shop at another department store! Her son joked, "Mom! I don't think we can take her with us!" I laughed as I had to tell her good-bye. That ended my short run as a personal stylist.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">You don't polish gold.</span></div>
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<img src="http://www.kay.com/images/products/3927/392780007_MV_ZM.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></div>
I was helping a kind woman find a pair of everyday gold-colored hoops. She was quite happy with my suggestion and was nearly ready to check out. "I think I'll just browse this section a bit," she said and I was about to tell her about the sale promotion we were having on that brand when all of the sudden, another woman called out to get my attention.<br />
"Do you work here?" she snapped.<br />
"Ye-"<br />
"I've been waiting here for like... ten minutes already and no one has offered to help me!" I looked around the department, and it was obvious we at a busy hour. All of my coworkers were occupied.<br />
"I'm sorry," I replied cordially. "We are quite busy right now, but I'm sure someone will come to you as soon as they are done."<br />
The woman I was helping find hoops graciously said, "It's fine. You can help her. I'll just be browsing, and I'll come to you once I'm ready."<br />
"Thank you," I smiled. Then, I proceeded to help the other woman.<br />
"I'd like to see these earrings," she demanded. I took out the pure gold pieces and handed them to her. Her brow furrowed, she eyed the earrings speculatively. "Could you polish these? I think this one might have a <i>scratch.</i> Actually, are there anymore in stock? Like in the back. Untouched."<br />
"Let me check for you," I replied. I checked our system, but unfortunately, there were none at our store location. I told her this, and she demanded I give her a polishing cloth. The only polishing cloth I knew of was the one used to clean watches. It was a bit yellowed from age. As I handed it to her, she glared and said, "I feel like this polishing cloth will scratch the earrings" but proceeded to polish the pair anyway. As she inspected them, the woman who had gone to browse came back. At this point, the woman holding the polishing cloth retorted, "You go help <i>her</i>. I'll just <i>wait.</i>" I quickly rang up the woman's hoops, and she gave me a look of genuine sympathy as she left. I proceeded to continue helping the woman inspecting the gold earrings.<br />
"I'll take them," she said. "They're a gift for my daughter."<br />
"Oh," I said. "That's sweet. These are beautiful." I rang up her total and asked a coworker about fine jewelry pouches. She pointed toward some drawers so I proceeded to search through them. I could not find the fine jewelry pouches, at which point my customer exasperatedly said, "Did you find them yet?"<br />
"No," I sighed. "I'm so sorry for wasting your time, but..." Thankfully, two of my coworkers came to my rescue. They helped me find the proper pouch, but that did not stop the customer from yelling, "You shouldn't be selling jewelry!" She proceeded to demand a fresh polishing cloth, so we had to take one from the stockpile of the only brand that came with them. She then argued with us about our records policy. I had given her the price tag of the item, when we were supposed to keep it in our file. The woman contested, "But she was just about to give it to me!"<br />
My coworker replied, "Yeah, but she's new!" Needless-to-say, the customer left furious.<br />
I was so down afterword that I had to take a ten and sob a little in the bathroom. The customer was literally terrifying and sunk my moral. Her comment "You shouldn't even be selling jewelry!" replayed over and over. Back on the floor, I evidently still looked down. One of my coworkers came up to me and asked if I wanted to talk for a bit because I looked upset. I continued fussing over the jewelry displays as she said, "Don't worry about that lady. She's just like my evil Aunt! Some people just make others feel bad. I bet she'll forget all about it and be mad at someone else really soon." I smiled and she continued being a total sweetheart. "You're a great salesperson, and you can't let her bring you down."<br />
Later, I told my manager about the situation and said I was so sorry if the woman would complain about our department because of my unfamiliarity with the fine jewelry procedure. My manager replied that next time, I should call her if I ever feel like a customer is getting upset. Also, gold does not need to be polished. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05649125903162747554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-955022660258954031.post-35384102680051120032015-06-11T09:38:00.000-07:002015-06-22T09:04:13.370-07:00Foodie Find 1: Bingsoo According to Wikipedia, "A foodie is a gourmet," (<i>Oooh... a gourmet. That sounds so fancy.</i>) "a person who has an ardent or refined interest in food and alcoholic beverages. A foodie seeks new food experiences as a hobby rather than simply eating out of convenience or hunger." I'm not sure I'm a "gourmet," but I definitely make a hobby out of trying new foods!<br />
<br /><b> Patbingsoo</b> ("beans with ice" in Korean) is a shaved ice dessert with sweet toppings. I tried my first bowl at <b>Mealtop</b>, a mall food venue. The cashier offered me two small samples, one in the classic milk flavor poured over shaved ice and one with strawberry topping. The milk ice topping tasted like vanilla ice cream (yum!), but I decided to go with the strawberry order because it was sweeter (and I have the taste buds of a sugar-addicted child). At Mealtop, all bingsoo treats ($4.95) come with a small side of red bean paste and mochi!<br />
I used to eat similar shaved ice treats a different mall shop with my middle school friends, so eating at Mealtop definitely made me nostalgic. It was a little different because they used flavored ice blocks instead of adding a topping to plain ice shavings.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Q2SgyK0hLjxerwtcwDDdUj5otiYLxke7Yvw2-3AS711jUoZGzJ2JD5d1xzBEzPAaFuwAWrbuK3XsYPfuttigE4r7Wba6ZIq6pGNP9e9MVMXsewQ4TerDY68RU9oHtxTvlXxzj0JtnHE/s1600/unnamed.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Q2SgyK0hLjxerwtcwDDdUj5otiYLxke7Yvw2-3AS711jUoZGzJ2JD5d1xzBEzPAaFuwAWrbuK3XsYPfuttigE4r7Wba6ZIq6pGNP9e9MVMXsewQ4TerDY68RU9oHtxTvlXxzj0JtnHE/s640/unnamed.png" width="360" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05649125903162747554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-955022660258954031.post-25518810543483037632015-06-07T18:05:00.003-07:002015-06-07T18:06:53.562-07:00June HaulMe a month a go: "Oh, I'll just bring a carry-on suit case. I'll only be able to carry back to uni what I need, so I'll be motivated to control my spending!"<br />
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Then, I got a job at one of my favorite stores (which meant 1) 20% discount and 2) baby needs to buy work outfits), I was facing post-breakup hollowness (and what's better then some retail therapy?), I tend to go shopping with people who are as much of a shopaholic as I am (thanks, Mom and Tiffany), and there are so many cute summery trends I haven't tried yet, and they were on sale... so<br />
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Ladies and gentleman, the demise of my wallet:<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Clothes for Work: business casual/ trendy</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF70vsjcWk9eV5xSrNjAMPodNkuDUc34LN9dqoKUxYl-MD7mHwOej7FUp2pVfSJfYO9A81enqZmhveBl5mnYJkeW6tSJDfbKZVgsUm70IRDnEXSYR3uI84t-wp911j7z_-q03GxdccDOk/s1600/IMG_2342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF70vsjcWk9eV5xSrNjAMPodNkuDUc34LN9dqoKUxYl-MD7mHwOej7FUp2pVfSJfYO9A81enqZmhveBl5mnYJkeW6tSJDfbKZVgsUm70IRDnEXSYR3uI84t-wp911j7z_-q03GxdccDOk/s320/IMG_2342.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
Tesori Boots (Nordstrom Rack) $44.97 → discounted to $36<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtLBd_v518kjk203T7R4mKc1uSE88ZuV5PvDW7LLeLjjjDsmAHCvNLcW9cRqQc7U1FPDykFJDm-pphNp7VSJ5bbBycueq008cxWkJE180Lk2F8CIy5NN0uOM01bpk-F9BeuABNWuw1ecE/s1600/IMG_2343.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtLBd_v518kjk203T7R4mKc1uSE88ZuV5PvDW7LLeLjjjDsmAHCvNLcW9cRqQc7U1FPDykFJDm-pphNp7VSJ5bbBycueq008cxWkJE180Lk2F8CIy5NN0uOM01bpk-F9BeuABNWuw1ecE/s320/IMG_2343.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
Sam Edelman 'Felicia' Flat (Nordstrom Rack)<br />
Originally $99.95 → $59.97 → discounted to $45<br />
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bar iii dress (Macy's)</div>
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Originally $79.50 → $20.98</div>
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Frenchi chiffon blazer (Nordstrom) $58 → discounted to $30</div>
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J, Crew flounce tank top $49.50 → $34.99 + 50% off → $17.99</div>
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Anthropologie Dress $148 → $25</div>
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Forever 21 Love 21 Dress $27.30 → $18.99 </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Random clothing</span></div>
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Forever 21 $FREE! (Buy one, get one free)</div>
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Forever 21 Romper $15.90</div>
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Forever 21 Dress $12.90</div>
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Forever 21 High-Waisted Shorts $12.90</div>
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Free People Skort (Macy's) $98 → $72 + 50% off ONE OF A KIND discount → $36</div>
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Abercrombie and Fitch Soft Pants $58 → $9.99 (Memorial Day Sale)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilimlMzc5jT8LRwF6AVBwN9ZLbrrfEghrE-GD4C4Z9509VBt4cN4BB5VTJ4hiyiJge7Q8-MgtL8HpzwPHk-9c12BUHjTWg4kErYPuRRQdZVBmiE9kZlF3pSOKKrYX2aMrBosTvt4E4BGg/s1600/IMG_2353.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilimlMzc5jT8LRwF6AVBwN9ZLbrrfEghrE-GD4C4Z9509VBt4cN4BB5VTJ4hiyiJge7Q8-MgtL8HpzwPHk-9c12BUHjTWg4kErYPuRRQdZVBmiE9kZlF3pSOKKrYX2aMrBosTvt4E4BGg/s400/IMG_2353.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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Paige Denim Jacket (Nordstrom) $199 → $104</div>
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Cold Shoulder Blouse by Decree (JC Penney) $20 → $9.99</div>
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Lululemon Run Speed Short $58 → $42</div>
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American Eagle Blouse (Hand-me-down from a friend)</div>
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American Eagle Skirt (Hand-me-down from a friend)</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Jewelry</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWCb9zIrSy-cx0lWVfpCouJccub8lQUdnD2bveX06NlTVvXhX_docxSJCa0At2FGg9In5W-hGAjUqlKUon61tHsenkXVV8wS1hrDhirhKJswJOsZvx9Paw7DJjMb-HT8UPm62YE5Hder4/s1600/IMG_2339.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWCb9zIrSy-cx0lWVfpCouJccub8lQUdnD2bveX06NlTVvXhX_docxSJCa0At2FGg9In5W-hGAjUqlKUon61tHsenkXVV8wS1hrDhirhKJswJOsZvx9Paw7DJjMb-HT8UPm62YE5Hder4/s640/IMG_2339.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
Left to right: Forever 21 Y-Necklace $5.80, Oyster Alex and Ani in Silver (gift from Adib), Vintage Alex and Ani (Nordstrom Rack) $38 → $15<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRET0Y2w6XXbIWcVXLDfmna1qGU1iJosMVValoEh8NVAcIeoc5uG2-ryPE9d5SHg2s-0dqR_WXYQJ6DsyoRCI2s8mssgd5todv9QKvcr00yxHIv9FoDBdleuMv3zFlD3m38Uz2FEnBR1s/s1600/IMG_2340.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRET0Y2w6XXbIWcVXLDfmna1qGU1iJosMVValoEh8NVAcIeoc5uG2-ryPE9d5SHg2s-0dqR_WXYQJ6DsyoRCI2s8mssgd5todv9QKvcr00yxHIv9FoDBdleuMv3zFlD3m38Uz2FEnBR1s/s640/IMG_2340.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
Dogeared 18'' Necklace (Nordstrom Rack) $48 → $18<br />
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<span id="goog_1706095757"></span><span id="goog_1706095758"></span><br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05649125903162747554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-955022660258954031.post-56011567178568112532015-05-14T11:18:00.001-07:002015-05-14T11:18:29.967-07:00What's in My Makeup Bag? (And mini-reviews of my favorite products)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I like makeup because its a socially-appropriate way to draw on my face. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEin6p0iPqX53B9xn_suwkoXQ2hxK8Tll2jBO4vYmfuUsX09nEweoj8rlQuqPIk9uNXQGCPwrRWSmASXccgXNZmM66BGRl4De8BOWfFKu-wNw2NVU9f6Nra0nfu0qfIkmpxrV-DUM9ENA/s1600/IMG_2046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEin6p0iPqX53B9xn_suwkoXQ2hxK8Tll2jBO4vYmfuUsX09nEweoj8rlQuqPIk9uNXQGCPwrRWSmASXccgXNZmM66BGRl4De8BOWfFKu-wNw2NVU9f6Nra0nfu0qfIkmpxrV-DUM9ENA/s640/IMG_2046.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnSxEErDoLH3kYcKAJ8g106avJEoCz0EMo5tnZu5czSIHntk4Pu60CMiJprzMUUFZKX4GATI470M-Z9tqoMXbF2kKgvT60rqRVX_PhuPw23w0-LrB9oxl3jGVs3hEGfR3wEPOd76-ee3o/s1600/IMG_2017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnSxEErDoLH3kYcKAJ8g106avJEoCz0EMo5tnZu5czSIHntk4Pu60CMiJprzMUUFZKX4GATI470M-Z9tqoMXbF2kKgvT60rqRVX_PhuPw23w0-LrB9oxl3jGVs3hEGfR3wEPOd76-ee3o/s320/IMG_2017.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<b>Oldie but Goodie: Maybelline Lasting Drama Waterproof Gel Eyeliner $8 + </b></div>
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This bad boy had been in my makeup collection for years. I'm pretty sure I bought the product (photograph below) when I was fifteen. There is still a decent amount of product in it, but makeup does expire (collects bacteria, in the case of mascara the formula gets gunkier), so I figured it would be best to repurchse from the lovely Target. Typically, if I keep an eye product for too long, my eyes show irritation in the form of redness and tiny zits. </div>
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">Why I love it: </i>It barely fades and does not budge or smudge on your upperlash line. It does smudge a bit on the lower lash line, but I don't really use it down there. Brown gives a nice, natural look and brings out the brown in my eyes. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht16kpbQNshhw_3oslq6JIM1mDlapabYG3PqVnh1zcaAtYCseov5Qois4t1yoAPeyJ4w88hmMn9Qn6ujB4U8zOAFwsyqpqc73TiIwuSdhyqYNeSmZ4kIs5FeUizL3qhb7UTbECeHlV52k/s1600/IMG_2025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht16kpbQNshhw_3oslq6JIM1mDlapabYG3PqVnh1zcaAtYCseov5Qois4t1yoAPeyJ4w88hmMn9Qn6ujB4U8zOAFwsyqpqc73TiIwuSdhyqYNeSmZ4kIs5FeUizL3qhb7UTbECeHlV52k/s320/IMG_2025.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Gel Eyeliner after ~4 years of use (not daily, but often for light lining on upper lash line)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqplAmCKcoUIkZkNbJR74ndEzeVMg7_Z_sza4_FJZ6Vbv67EYxMVsNJTgVTDSxTIUV6CRP1VilbiwIQgnVIyaZm2e3Gr6LZfXpBVOOdBF7V1nmqwe0AWp13COpC7qnldO8mbVzvHwK_XE/s1600/IMG_2027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqplAmCKcoUIkZkNbJR74ndEzeVMg7_Z_sza4_FJZ6Vbv67EYxMVsNJTgVTDSxTIUV6CRP1VilbiwIQgnVIyaZm2e3Gr6LZfXpBVOOdBF7V1nmqwe0AWp13COpC7qnldO8mbVzvHwK_XE/s320/IMG_2027.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Ratchet brush after ~4 years of use and much washing</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFKHMIplDbK4nAIwxG5IlB2Rs3MkSquo-zAK221YuxfI52UaqXJ7Wxyrb7vVBtk0RMqL45WyNunPVSy57KJRI7b1Cc7klikZ_nZVFbbWl4R9Y00K7VWoZip-A_c0AAyXlQzR49sbyIg4Y/s1600/IMG_2029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFKHMIplDbK4nAIwxG5IlB2Rs3MkSquo-zAK221YuxfI52UaqXJ7Wxyrb7vVBtk0RMqL45WyNunPVSy57KJRI7b1Cc7klikZ_nZVFbbWl4R9Y00K7VWoZip-A_c0AAyXlQzR49sbyIg4Y/s400/IMG_2029.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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<i>My eye brush + liner collection</i>: </div>
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<b>Elf Eyeshadow Brush </b>($1 from Target)</div>
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<b>EcoTools Flat Shader Brush </b>(purchased in a pack 5+ years ago)</div>
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<b>Estee Lauder Shadow Brush </b>(gift from mom)</div>
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<b>Max Bronze Eyeliner </b>($3 from grocery store. Fun to line lower lash on a summery day)</div>
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<b>Sephora Eyeliner </b>(gift from mom)</div>
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<b>Maybelline Ultra Liner Waterproof </b>($6-7 from Target, not the best. Can flake off a bit, but overall makes thick opaque marks. I use this for dance performances or going out.)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU4gseYLc9SlQJH1iJ2iEcfBsu3v3a_WCOKNEogll8bAZtBB_vfK3y8RHCku2Fdntf-dQkyMyvBJ0tsA-CZZPMRZH0EVi0LuyI1MsRmjJZYfVsf2HIEKxv1udZQJaD_4ShabgACDqbp9I/s1600/IMG_2033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU4gseYLc9SlQJH1iJ2iEcfBsu3v3a_WCOKNEogll8bAZtBB_vfK3y8RHCku2Fdntf-dQkyMyvBJ0tsA-CZZPMRZH0EVi0LuyI1MsRmjJZYfVsf2HIEKxv1udZQJaD_4ShabgACDqbp9I/s320/IMG_2033.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Mascara and Friend:</i></div>
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<b>Covergirl Lashblast in Waterproof $8+</b></div>
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">Why I love it: </i>It's waterproof so it holds my curl. It does not smudge at all! I would not say it's totally water proof (will smudge if you swim with it haha) but its great for everyday. It lengthens and does a good job of thickening. Not as dramatic as Maybelline's Falsies, but its a lot easier to get off with makeup remover (Falsies formula is so difficult to get off! It's so much of a hastle, I stick with Covergirl even though I find Falsies' brush more volumizing). </div>
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<b>Sephora Eyelash Curler $17</b></div>
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<b><i>Why I love it: </i></b>Way pricer than I'd usually go for a curler (drug store curlers are typically $4), but it is the best curler I've found for my eye shape. Does not pinch, and fits an almond (Asian) shape. Can't quite get the outler lashes in one squeeze, but if you do two pinches (one for inner/middle and one for outermost) you'll get a splendid curl.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_fzAxazFEaJeeupJ-P_01cBUboXcJ6fQVWrNYiAtMj7h0Lm42xUkvx08Mcg0nx_-I1fuulfFJX8isYyHF4vF4mRKCAFZiDuUOO0UY8ZGfYEryUogQudfGJ4mg1b40GQOE-M1uroKLFQA/s1600/IMG_2038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_fzAxazFEaJeeupJ-P_01cBUboXcJ6fQVWrNYiAtMj7h0Lm42xUkvx08Mcg0nx_-I1fuulfFJX8isYyHF4vF4mRKCAFZiDuUOO0UY8ZGfYEryUogQudfGJ4mg1b40GQOE-M1uroKLFQA/s320/IMG_2038.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIn2H_InyRMEVU6VLcqIWA0a3ECm-BMZb9_xI4zzMhyNFrwGFsDABiukHuOPZgkywWQ_bFmQ_WxczdYgV173-48VAcJlXLNCuL8A_Pei7c16NJ-1uM1gnHa27IL8Ai3O_NjZ7xhne7_cM/s1600/IMG_2040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIn2H_InyRMEVU6VLcqIWA0a3ECm-BMZb9_xI4zzMhyNFrwGFsDABiukHuOPZgkywWQ_bFmQ_WxczdYgV173-48VAcJlXLNCuL8A_Pei7c16NJ-1uM1gnHa27IL8Ai3O_NjZ7xhne7_cM/s320/IMG_2040.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<b>Benefit World Famous Neutrals $30</b></div>
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">Why I'm "Meh" about it: </i>The packaging is cute, but inconveniently bulky in an unnecessarily thick box. The colors are nice neutrals but there's nothing special about them. Decently pigmented and nice for everyday. I really like "it's complicated" and the small shimmer shadow pots. I use this on the daily, but I wouldn't repurchase it for $30. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ylYB5znENvPLYUNlOiJt9wKkI2aGDBAV-VXYWa0aTDKMVHYQvmi_ubzb7s47EkN39mRk8ZFL7ajQprYeiaoQsI_shNgsYDE4sGMdYJ9kDJJ6W_WDm3EwT8402TDK7SO5-Lwr63DAzgg/s1600/IMG_2034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ylYB5znENvPLYUNlOiJt9wKkI2aGDBAV-VXYWa0aTDKMVHYQvmi_ubzb7s47EkN39mRk8ZFL7ajQprYeiaoQsI_shNgsYDE4sGMdYJ9kDJJ6W_WDm3EwT8402TDK7SO5-Lwr63DAzgg/s400/IMG_2034.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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<i>Miscellaneous Makeup Pallets:</i></div>
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<b>Claire's Glitter Duo </b>(gift from my friend, Alissa)</div>
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<b>Estee Lauder </b>(free gift)</div>
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<b>Lancome </b>(free gift)</div>
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<b>Wet & Wild Color Icon Eyeshadow Trio in Walking on Eggshells $3</b></div>
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<b>Stila Snowflake Holiday Palette $5 </b>(Nordstrom Rack)</div>
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">Why I love it: </i>Super silky shadows. Great for neutrals. Nice, dark pigmented browns. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmn9Aey7CKCJfJZRoK5t3s8cfaeKN_RLWFeZKo0u8JnTnlM9zEQ888K92UT1VdaU_JsYOA_TQrjFDQu5lck-spZuZMKfI3rMZOQcKpHq4-ka5zcDk-yhVQngxN4z2R3VnnhoLneXUpYyc/s1600/IMG_2043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmn9Aey7CKCJfJZRoK5t3s8cfaeKN_RLWFeZKo0u8JnTnlM9zEQ888K92UT1VdaU_JsYOA_TQrjFDQu5lck-spZuZMKfI3rMZOQcKpHq4-ka5zcDk-yhVQngxN4z2R3VnnhoLneXUpYyc/s400/IMG_2043.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Lips</i></div>
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<b>Neutrogena Chapstick with SPF 15 </b>(free with banana boat sunscreen purchase)</div>
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<b>Lush Bubblegum Lipscrub $9.95</b></div>
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<b>Estee Lauder Lipstick in Bois de Rose </b>(part of gift set)</div>
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<b>EOS Lip Balm $3</b></div>
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<b>Sonia Kashuk Lipsticks $8 each </b>(in Coraline and Sheer Orchid)</div>
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<b>Burt's Bees $8 </b>(Rose tinted)</div>
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">Why I love it: </i>It's lipstick with the texture and feel of chapstick. It gives your lips a noticable red tint and moisture. Great for an everyday color. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4F2ZuZntwEdMmSJJWFmkiwoj_Q3Od8ILMYjUcMT7c-gdgUseT3NSG69KrT0r70ZIatuxJsg8FXr9e47QZAGIlqeGTabpxaSEL8JMZ7zX2y1ExTJHd8yAunjlbx0EmLnmpgIBLS-crmmY/s1600/IMG_2044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4F2ZuZntwEdMmSJJWFmkiwoj_Q3Od8ILMYjUcMT7c-gdgUseT3NSG69KrT0r70ZIatuxJsg8FXr9e47QZAGIlqeGTabpxaSEL8JMZ7zX2y1ExTJHd8yAunjlbx0EmLnmpgIBLS-crmmY/s400/IMG_2044.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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<b>Bobbypins</b></div>
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<b>Bath and Bodywork Pink Passion Fruit Hand Sanitizer</b></div>
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<b>Nair Hair Remover Mini</b></div>
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<b>Revlon Nail Files</b></div>
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<b>Elf Eyelid Primer $2</b></div>
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">Why I love it: </i>Keeps eyeshadows and liners on my lid! Does crease after a long day, but it gets the job preserving a look. For $2, its totally my go-to base under natural makeup looks. </div>
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<b>Revlon Tweezers</b></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05649125903162747554noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-955022660258954031.post-51080244966509964122015-05-13T16:46:00.000-07:002015-05-13T16:49:48.276-07:00Cultural Appropriation in Fashion<img src="http://manrepeller.wpengine.netdna-cdn.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/03/Screen-Shot-2015-03-12-at-1.00.23-PM-200x200.png" /> "Sioux" Bracelet by Aurelie Bidermann<br />
<img alt="142" src="http://s7d4.scene7.com/is/image/KateSpade/PXRU5573_142_1?$s7productgrid$" /> "Chinese New Year Sheep Clutch" by Kate Spade<br />
<img alt="kate spade new york Hello Tokyo Coin Purse,Kinetic Turquoise/Metropolis Green,One Size" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/81mVVXpDefL._UY679_.jpg" />"Hello Tokyo" Coinpurse by Kate Spade<br />
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Are you excited or offended?<br />
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I have some friends who are very fervent about cultural appropriation, arguing that if you are not of the culture, you should not be sporting their culturally-connotative goods. I see how this argument makes sense. I kind of cringe when non-Indian teen girls parade in Native American headdresses. It's a misuse of a cultural status symbol as a fashion accessory. The act reeks of ignorance and disrespect for a culture. I cringe, but is it wrong? It carrying a "Hello Tokyo" kitsch coin purse offensive to Japanese culture? Just because its stereotypical in design does not mean the object intends to offend or cheapen the culture. Native American-inspired jewelry is often considered wrong because it makes money off of "stolen" tribal designs. Ideally, Native Americans alone would profit from their style of tribal design. But is it really "stolen?" Who decides a design's source? What makes something original and something appropriated? And when something is appropriated, when does appropriation become an offensive act?<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05649125903162747554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-955022660258954031.post-86623158911655845142015-05-11T14:41:00.001-07:002015-05-13T16:39:15.201-07:00Up in the Air: The Best Phrase To Describe My Summer Plans<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_O51EPzVGWIxQuDI1zoztpUMFsD1zKXfyUGvGK47e37C-_QM_zkyoxjpIgGOhXpHy_31Ifc2nes9tWPJ_npiO7r2t5TKOEBtMAFJQQQL-GbPlPVYp5GWnErYLYG-n8K8FAPi05ZmcZQI/s1600/IMG_1955.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_O51EPzVGWIxQuDI1zoztpUMFsD1zKXfyUGvGK47e37C-_QM_zkyoxjpIgGOhXpHy_31Ifc2nes9tWPJ_npiO7r2t5TKOEBtMAFJQQQL-GbPlPVYp5GWnErYLYG-n8K8FAPi05ZmcZQI/s640/IMG_1955.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Welcome to my office! (Aka my bedroom where I blog and search for a summer opportunity.) </div>
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At the end of my sophomore year of college, it seemed like everyone had an internship or summer research... well, everyone except me. And its not like I wasn't trying to find an internship. I applied to two biology research programs, a scenic design internship, six graphic design internships, a fashion design internship, and a summer assistant job. I was rejected to everything aside from the summer assistant position. I was happy with the summer assistant position for about an hour. I'd be staying on campus, spending the summer with my friends doing research, and still make more money that I had to spend for on-campus housing and food. However, the more I thought about it, the more I realized how much I did not want the job. "Summer assistant" meant a full-time job of filing for the entire summer. I would have appreciated the money, but the thought of sitting alone at a desk and filling until the sun went down each day killed me inside. I need a job that allows me to be creative and interact with people.</div>
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After the summer assistant offer, I finally received interviews for some of the graphic design positions I had applied to and coveted. So, I decided to turn the summer assistant job down in pursuit of real-world experience.</div>
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The first job sounded pretty neat. The work dress code was business casual and I'd actually get to work on design projects with the team. </div>
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The second job was absolutely perfect. It was a graphic design opportunity based at an Ohio coding company. After interviewing over Google Hangout with the co-founder and Graphic Designer, there was nothing I wanted more than to work for them. They asked the best interview question, "How weird are you on a scale from 1-10?" And they were offering a paid internship for someone to just help them create a plethora of content: posters, brochures, info graphics, and everything else. </div>
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Unfortunately, taking the risk to interview instead of staying cozily with my summer assistant opportunity did not pay off. For the first company, I was pretty nervous over the phone and ended up getting denied a second-round interview. The second company in Ohio never even notified me that I'd been rejected, but after two weeks of no contact, I stopped hoping for a reply.</div>
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This all occurred between spring break and finals week (basically the most stressful stretch of my life). There were essays, exams (three between April 1 and 2), ballet rehearsals for Dancefest and the Spring Showcase, club meetings for MSA and OASIS, event posters and brochures to make at work, and a sprinkle of cheer practices. Days went by too fast and by the end of the week, I'd be too tired to go out with friends. Luckily, my lovely boyfriend would keep me company during the weekend nights I just wanted to be a hermit. </div>
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Meanwhile, everyone asked, "So, what are your plans for this summer?" This time, it was asked by a well-spoken, boat-shoe and pink-short wearing boy from suburban Connecticut.</div>
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"I don't know yet," I laughed.</div>
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"How do you not know what you're doing yet?" he seemed genuinely confused. "I'm working as a medical assistant in a hospital."</div>
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"What does that mean?" I replied.</div>
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"I don't actually know..." he stated, perplexed. </div>
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The school year ended and I was jobless and intershipless. I was tired in general and tired of rejection. The last thing I wanted to do was apply only to receive more words trying to let me down easy. March 31st (email) "Thank you for applying... Unfortunately, we will not be able to offer you a position at this time..." March 16th "All the positions have been filled. Thank you for your interest." April 18th (voice mail) "Thank you for applying, but we decided to go with another intern..." May 5th (email) "All of the positions have been filled with candidates that more appropriately fill our current needs at the time. We encourage you to apply again in the future. Wishing you all the best with your search..." April 30th "I'll be in touch with you early next week regarding next steps." (No emails were sent two weeks later). </div>
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I told my boyfriend I didn't want to apply to anything anymore. He replied, "That's too bad." </div>
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"Why would you say that?" I spat. "Stop making me feel guilty for not wanting to be rejected AGAIN. I've faced enough rejections this summer." </div>
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"I got rejected too. No one got summer internships. Everyone I know is doing independent research." </div>
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It was then when I realized how spoon-fed I'd been my whole life. I'd been so used to getting on tracks, the "AP" track, "extracirriculars" tracks, and "A" tracks got me into college. Though I didn't know which college I'd get into, as long as I stayed "on track" I'd get in somewhere. Now, there isn't a track, and a few weeks ago, I was crying, anxiety-ridden, and on the verge on giving up because I'd gotten into my head that there was a "track" for getting an internship. Something along the lines of, if I get good grades, have a great portfolio, resume, and coverletter, and nail the interview, I'd be in. But its different when you job search. You could be the most qualified person, but someone had a better interview presence or had a network advantage. No matter how many jobs you apply for, you might not get any, even if you are qualified.<br />
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It's morbid, but it's reality. And another reality is that I'm too stubborn to give up fighting for my dream. I don't have an end goal and I don't have a path. I simply know that I want to keep exploring graphic design.<br />
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My boyfriend (the Econ major) always tells me that it comes down to "cost-benefit analysis." Basically, how does the cost (rejection) compare to the benefit (possible graphic design opportunity)? If the benefit of applying for internships and jobs outweighs the cost, I get positive utility (happiness) if not, I get negative utility.<br />
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Now, I'm at my desk searching for more things to apply to. I'm sailing my resume and semi-similar cover letters into the void of the internet. Hopefully something good will happen.<br />
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Stay tuned for updates of my summer journey.<br />
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Cheers,<br />
Angel<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">updates:</span><br />
5/11/15 Just received an email from one of the graphic design internships I recently applied to for an interview. It's a non-profit (unpaid) and 36 minutes away, but I would be able to help the company with branding and webdesign! *fingers crossed*<br />
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5/12/15 Just heard back from the internship in Ohio. Unfortunately, they could not follow through with the internship position because their company was short of funding. :( However, I did hear back from a second non-profit (also unpaid and 32 minutes away). Now, I have two Q&A sessions with start-up CEOs between today and tomorrow! Even though neither opportunity is paid and both require quite the commute, I am eager to speak more with each founder and hear more about their companies. Hopefully I get a graphic design position! Both promise hands-on experience, which is what I've been searching for.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05649125903162747554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-955022660258954031.post-32922625765129686852015-03-21T05:48:00.004-07:002015-05-10T16:21:11.699-07:00My Shabbat Experience in the Chabad<div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">On the Road Again</span></div>
We were on our way to the prayer and dinner. Amanda's flying to Botswana in a few months. Discussion of this led to discussion of airlines. Of course talk of Malaysian airlines occurred, and then Josh brought up the Korean airline accident.<br />
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<br /></div>
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Josh "Yeah, the Korean Airline plane accident was on the news, but no one proofread the information. So they said the names of the pilots were 'Wi Tu Lo,' 'Bang Ding Ow,' and 'Ho Lee Fuk.'" We all started laughing except Amanda. </div>
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Amanda "Wait... I get the last one. But can someone explain Wi Tu Lo and Bang Ding Ow?"</div>
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-Silence-</div>
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Mama L. "Well, these are the names of the pilots, so the first one is about the plane...We too low?"</div>
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Amanda "What?"</div>
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Me "The plane was flying too low!" </div>
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Amanda "Ohhh.... And what about Bang Ding Ow?"</div>
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Me "Those are noises you make when you crash!"</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Josh "<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 18px; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;">♪ </span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;">Bang! The word that follows So! Ding a drop of golden bread! </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 18px; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;">♫"</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 18px; line-height: 20px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;">Nice to Meet You</span></span></div>
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The Chabad Amanda goes to set up so that men sit on the left and women sit on the right. Girls are required to wear skirts (knee length or longer) and men wear yamakas. Amanda's parents began introducing us to some of the adults, and one Jewish man wearing a bright cranberry yamaka and whose skin was tan, thick, and dotted with several moles took particular interest in me. (Later, he told me he fought in Vietnam aging him to about 70.) His name's *Harry.</div>
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Harry "Where are you from?" </div>
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Me "San Jose, California."</div>
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Harry "Hmm?"</div>
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Me "California-"</div>
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Harry "Oh, California! Not somewhere like... South Korea or Vietnam?" (He chuckles to himself.) "Well I know many Asian women." </div>
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Me "I bet you do." (I smile big and chuckle to myself.) (Sometimes I can't control my sarcasm.)</div>
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Thank God prayers started. </div>
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There were around 15 women and 15 men. Between the rows of seats was a six foot tall wooden book shelf serving as a divider. Apparently, women are not allowed to sit in the same seats as men because they may make the chair dirty (if they're on their period). The Rabbi began singing in Hebrew. He had brown hair atop his head and cascading down his face in a thick beard. In place of a yamaka was a black hat, and he wore a long coat. I tried to follow along with the (many) songs in the prayer book. It was exciting trying to keep up (luckily, the symbols were also written in sounded-out-english). </div>
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Following the prayer, we went to the dining room and sang more. We drank grape juice out of tiny Daisy brand cups. Then, the Rabbi recommended we wash our hands. The sink was located outside; it was a faucet that flowed into a large black marble bowl. Next to the faucet, there was a long handled cup. I turned on the sink and let water flow about half way. Then, I poured water over my right hand 3 times and over my left hand 3 times as well. </div>
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When I walked back to the dining table, some adults began haphazardly covering loaves of bread with paper napkins. Amanda's dad explained to me, "We drank the wine first. The napkins are so that the loaves of bread don't get embarrassed! We don't want them to think they're not important." </div>
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There was more singing, and we ate the bread. (I ate a tiny piece because the gluten free thing). Then, we went to get food. I was so excited to eat the salad and beef patties because I was ravenous at this point. In addition, I really wanted some Diet Coke, so I began walking up to the other side of the table. Unfortunately, Harry caught up to me.</div>
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"You know, I love Asian women." (Oh, dear God in heaven.) (I smiled awkwardly). "I work with a girl who's an immigrant from Vietnam. Genius! Fullbright scholar. Went to Stanford. Grad school at Duke. Post-doc at Harvard. But she has no street smarts!" </div>
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"Oh, haha.. wow," I replied.</div>
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"Her name's CJ. Her actual name's Cynthia but she HATES that."</div>
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Then he started telling me a story about how they play tennis. "She has an arm like Serena Williams! But sometimes she just falls over."</div>
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"Oh no!" </div>
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"Yeah, you know I've been to Vietnam!"</div>
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"For vacation?" I ask.</div>
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He stares at me dumbfounded. "No! I was in the war!"</div>
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"Like, in the seventies?" I ask.</div>
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"Yeah, well the treaty was signed in 75 so early 70's. But anyway, I can tell you lots of stories about the war!" (Please don't.) (He didn't because more prayers were about to happen.)</div>
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"Oh, wow..." I feigned interest.</div>
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"What your name anyway?" </div>
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"Angel."</div>
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"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA." (He actually tilts back and cankers out these howling HA's.) </div>
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"You're literally the rudest human I've ever met!" (Just kidding, I didn't say that.) "Why are you laughing?" (I had to ask.)</div>
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"Oh, it's nothing." (He chuckles). "Well, you should eat."</div>
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"I was going to." (I chuckle because I'M STARVING. Then, I reach past him, steal the Diet Coke bottle, and race away.) </div>
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I wasn't the only one who got subtly smacked by racism. Amanda's dad was verbally tickled as well. He was talking to two adults who asked where he was from.</div>
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"I'm from Russia."</div>
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"Oh, no! Really? You don't seem to have the accent," said the well-meaning husband.</div>
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"He does. I can definitely hear it," the wife interjected. </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Stump the Rabbi</span></div>
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Everyone introduced himself/herself and then asked the Rabbi a question. Adib asked a good question about Jewish laws and whether they can be changed. Others asked about forgiving dead souls and what makes a soul so evil that after death, relatives should pray 12 months instead of 11. I asked about the significance of a Rabbi's beard. (He was kind of tipsy at this point and told me "It's like a uniform... or a costume!" An old man at the table looked at him quizzically. "You know, like how you can tell a firefighter from a police officer.") And Amanda's mom asked about whether g-d will be okay if she doesn't clean the entire house because Mr. Broken Leg (Josh) is making life more difficult to handle. She and Rabbi's wife started gabbing about cheerios getting everyone! The Rabbi's wife "Yeah, my kids like to spread their... love everywhere." She has six kids and definitely knows the feeling. "I'd say do your best. It's the effort g-d will see. I tell my kids before tests, 'Put in the effort. As for the grade, worry about that later.'" Rabbi "I think you just gave her a free pass!" Then, Amanda asked about how evolution fits into the story of creation. (Bio nerd!)</div>
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"If Jews believe the earth is 5,775 years old, how does our religion explain dinosaurs?"</div>
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Rabbi "Good question- this can be explained because God created a mature earth. You know dinosaur bones can be carbon dated to millions of years old, it's because Earth already had them. Like, when God created the Earth, you could take a tree and cut the rings because the tree was already create thirty years old. It was mature." </div>
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Then, Maddie asked, "Who decided it was 5,775 years old."</div>
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Rabbi "God created on the first day 5,775 years ago-"</div>
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Rabbi's wife "That's not what she's asking. She knows that creation began that long ago, but who.. kept track."</div>
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Rabbi "Oh.... well... in the same way, it's like, how do really know today's Friday? But that's... hmm..."</div>
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Old man "I think she stumped the Rabbi!" </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05649125903162747554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-955022660258954031.post-18346505893913692432015-03-19T19:25:00.000-07:002015-03-19T19:28:01.750-07:00Scene: Dining RoomScene:<br />
Amanda, Adib, and I are studying in the dining room. Papa L. is cleaning the dishes in the kitchen while Josh is singing in the living room. Mama L. is coming down the stairs.<br />
Mama L.: "Now they have to wait till it's this late to fight over the bathroom! Vlad, tell Maddie she should shower in the morning!"<br />
Papa L.: "MADDIE!" (Shouts to upstairs) "YOU SHOULD SHOWER IN THE MORNING!"<br />
Amanda: "UGH!" (Trying to do homework in the dining room) "Can everyone be QUIET?"<br />
Maddie: "I need to brush my teeth!" (shouts to downstairs)<br />
Papa L.: "Isn't that a benzophaliene?" (Looks at Amanda's homework)<br />
Amanda: "Dad! That's not a benzophaliene! That's a cephlophaline!" (those aren't actual words)<br />
Mama L.: "The benzenes are always greener!" (to the tune of <i>Under the Sea</i>)<br />
Amanda: "Can't we just have some silence?! I'm trying to do my homework! I should have asked for noise-cancelling headphones for my birthday!"<br />
Me: "You got pants!"<br />
Mama L.: "Amanda! Take your pants off the counter! They'll get cat hair on them!"<br />
Amanda: "I said I'd do that later! They don't have cat hair on them now..."<br />
Mama L.: "But they're new..."<br />
Josh: "This is the SONG THAT NEVER ENDS!" (sings and clanks crutches to the floor)<br />
Amanda: Can you just stop singing! Why isn't there a place in the house that is completely silent!?!?<br />
Adib: I can take everyone's noise. It's Amanda's complaining that makes me annoyed!<br />
Josh: (Turns on sink. The wall starts thumping rapidly.)<br />
Mama L: Josh!<br />
Josh: That's not me! That's Maddie turning on the shower!" (Josh turns on the faucet more and the thumping gets worse)<br />
Mama L: "Josh, STOP THAT!"<br />
Amanda: Why does everyone in our family have to sing?<br />
Papa L.: "You know I got BOSE headphones. From my work. They were doing constructions at the office and I got angry so they got me $300 headphones!"<br />
Amanda: "Can I get headphones? Cause I'm getting ANGRY!"<br />
Mama L. "AMANDA! YOUR PANTS!"<br />
Amanda: "Shut up, Mom!!!"<br />
Me: "Amanda... don't say shut up to your mommy...."<br />
Papa L.: "Aw.. pumpkin."<br />
Mama L: I'd like an apology. And why don't you talk to your grandma!"<br />
Josh: (singing under the sea)<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05649125903162747554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-955022660258954031.post-37228187596195441382015-03-17T18:46:00.001-07:002015-05-10T16:23:04.151-07:00That time I went through a storm for a long-sleeved crop topBrandy Melville is a CA girl staple store. This means a girl in search of the 90's grunge-inspired, laid-back, cool girl effect will wind up with a BM top in their repertoire. I'm obsessed with the trend. I'm not the trendiest gal, but after finding a cozy long-sleeved one-size fits all (which usually is a pain, but worked delectably this time around) grey stretch-fabric number at a gently-used clothing store over Winter Break, I re-fell in love. I'd been into the trend summer 2013 when it was obsessed with floral crop tops and loose hoodies. After months in middle-of-know-where upstate NY college, seeing the Brandy Melville word art on a window caused me to relapse HARD. But not hard enough...<br />
<br />
I saw this cute semi-cropped ribbed marble-colored long-sleeve top and tried it on immediately. The sleeves were stretchy and the top form-fit in the best way. But it was $21 and eh... do I really need another basic?<br />
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My lovely Bostonian-native friend and my boyfriend continued our journey through the Boston shopping district. We went through a comic store (nerd paradise!) and Nike (where my boyfriend was in awe by the funky-colored sneaks). However, after each store, my thoughts traced back to the Brandy Melville top.<br />
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It fit like a glove. Why didn't I just buy the damn thing?<br />
<br />
"I want to buy the shirt!" I announced to my friends at the library. By this point, we were a good twenty-minute/ten block distance away. But the sun burst through the breach of cumulus in the sky and the Asian beat boxer was outside doing his thing (beatboxing through his speakers a combo of Barbie Girl and dubstep) and I felt all the good vibes. They said they'd wait at the train station.<br />
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So I started trekking back toward BM. And suddenly, the sun disappeared. I felt a raindrop on my head.<br />
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It was the world saying, "IF YOU WANT THE SHIRT, YOU BETTER REALLY WANT IT."<br />
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Then, it started raining. Pouring. Hailing.<br />
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Everyone was caught off guard. A pair of Korean girls in hood-less sweaters were drenched. A mom pushing her baby in a stroller was disdainfully sipping her bubble tea. A man was waving around a half-bent umbrella that grew more tangled as the wind gained speed. I felt like I were about to be blown away! Outdoor mannequin displays toppled down the cement stairs. The American Apparel sign fell over as I passed by it.<br />
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I finally entered the store. The supervisors were gossiping about the weather's bipolorness. I got the last Breanne Crop Top in the store. It was the top hanging as a display.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05649125903162747554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-955022660258954031.post-83832079401669496482015-03-17T18:12:00.000-07:002015-03-17T18:32:02.004-07:00Angel's Winter-Spring Transition Style PicksThe weather is ranging from the 30's-40's. That means the colored-khaki shorts and cropped Lulus have reemerged from Colgate student's closets, haha. For all of you who don't believe the 30's qualify as shorts temperature, you should know that last month was a rough time-- basically, everyone would cheer when the weather surpassed the negatives...<br />
<br />
The best part about this weather is that I can finally wear my leather riding boots again! It's not quite time to store my heavy-duty 'Joan of Arctic' winter boots for good, but it's nice getting those clumpy shoes off my feet for a while.<br />
<br />
Here are some of the cute things I love to wear during the lovely transition time between Winter and Spring in Upstate NY.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">My Go-To Outfit</span><br />
When I don't know what to wear, here are the basics I need to build a quick outfit.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">1) Cozy Cardigan or Structured Jacket</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">2) Layering Tanks and Tees</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">3) Leggings/Jeans</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">4) Boots (Riding/Military/Booties/all the boots!)</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">5) Dainty Accessories (My personal everyday accessories are my jade studs my boyfriend gifted me from a Native American jewelry vendor in New Mexico, my Alex and Ani lady bug bangle, and my blue elephant bracelet by Cruciani.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">6) A neutral everyday bag</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><u>Transition Time Lust List</u></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Cozy Cardis </span><br />
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Apricot Long-sleeved Shawl-Inspired Cardigan by Sheinside (only $20 right now!)<br />
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<img src="http://img.sheinside.com/images/sheinside.com/201410/1413442586353632898.jpg" height="640" width="456" /><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Structured Jackets</span><br />
Troopa Jacket by Talula, Aritzia ($130)<br />
<img alt="TROOPER JACKET | Aritzia" src="http://s7d9.scene7.com/is/image/Aritzia/medium/s15_02_004_55276_701_on_a.jpg" /><br />
Talula Troopa Jacket, Aritzia ($120)<br />
<img alt="TROOPER JACKET | Aritzia" src="http://s7d9.scene7.com/is/image/Aritzia/medium/s15_02_004_35276_2819_on_a.jpg" /><br />
Talula Troop Jacket, $110<br />
<img alt="TROOP JACKET | Aritzia" src="http://s7d9.scene7.com/is/image/Aritzia/medium/f14_02_004_44505_2819_on_f.jpg" /><br />
Talula Akasaka Jacket, $120... okay, I'm apparently obsessed with all of Aritizia's Talula line jackets<br />
<img src="http://s7d9.scene7.com/is/image/Aritzia/large/f14_02_004_50335_5088_off_f.jpg" height="640" width="467" /><br />
The Downtown Field Jacket by J.Crew $148 (I bought this in Navy when it was on sale in Fall! I wear this thing to death. And Michelle Obama has it)<br />
<img src="https://s7.jcrew.com/is/image/jcrew/19034_WB1325_m?$pdp_fs418$" /><br />
<img src="http://mrs-o.com/storage/170802260.jpg?__SQUARESPACE_CACHEVERSION=1371602706143" /><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Layering Tanks and Tees</span><br />
American Eagle Outfitters ($34.99)<br />
<img alt="AEO Embroidered Eyelet T-Shirt" src="http://pics.ae.com/is/image/aeo/2371_4151_106_of?fit=crop&wid=450&hei=504&qlt=50,0" /><br />
Fluttered Top by Anthropologie $88<br />
<img alt="Fluttered Maya Blouse" src="http://images.anthropologie.com/is/image/Anthropologie/4110089176782_015_b" /><br />
Dusky Ombre Denim Top Anthropologie ($78)<br />
<img alt="Dusky Ombre Tee" src="http://images.anthropologie.com/is/image/Anthropologie/4110265418439_092_b?$an-category$" /><br />
Eyelit Hem-stitched peasant top by Madewell $88<br />
<img alt="Eyelet-Hem Stitched Peasant Top" src="https://s7d9.scene7.com/is/image/madewell/B8699_BL7209_m?$cat_tn250x391_cropx18p$" /><br />
Rivet and Threat Chambray Peplum Top Madewell $98<br />
<img alt="Rivet & Thread Chambray Peplum Tank" src="https://s7d9.scene7.com/is/image/madewell/B8455_DM0690_m?$cat_tn250x391_cropx18p$" /><br />
Brandy Melville Breanne Top, 21 (I actually bought this from the Boston Shopping District today!)<br />
<img src="http://d16ulbeaofq72e.cloudfront.net/media/catalog/product/cache/1/small_image/230x345/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/m/c/mch623t-655s87800ml_f_2.jpg" /><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Leggings</span><br />
Lululemon, $82<br />
<img alt="Wunder Under Pant" height="640" src="https://images.lululemon.com/is/image/lululemon/LW5E82S_0001_3?$pdp_main$" width="515" /><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Booties</span><br />
Schuler & Sons Chelsea Boots ($69, were $188) Anthropologie<br />
<img alt="Schuler & Sons Chelsea Booties" src="http://images.anthropologie.com/is/image/Anthropologie/34092692_070_b?$an-category$" /><br />
<br />
Also, warm socks :)<br />
TNA Birken Socks (haha) from Aritzia $15<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Dainty Accessories</span><br />
American Eagle "Opal" Necklace ($9.50)<br />
<img alt="AEO Gemstone Necklace - Buy Two, Get One Free!" src="http://pics.ae.com/is/image/aeo/0482_4374_709_f?fit=crop&wid=450&hei=504&qlt=50,0" /><br />
Full Swing Bracelet by Madewell $16.50 (was $24.99)<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Neutral Bag</span><br />
Willa Hobo Bag by Anthropologie ($249)<br />
<img alt="Willa Hobo Bag" src="http://images.anthropologie.com/is/image/Anthropologie/33344193_051_b?$an-category$" /><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05649125903162747554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-955022660258954031.post-61336694607769289292015-02-09T19:04:00.001-08:002015-02-09T19:07:58.139-08:00It's Monday It's gotten to that point of the night where my ability to be productive has decreased significantly (unfortunately, it's only 9:37 PM and in my midst are a multitude of homework tidbits in need of attention). In the last half-an-hour, I a) tried to open a door from the hinged side of the frame and b) typed my password into the USERNAME box of the computer while trying to log in. <br />
<br />
Today was very productive... almost too productive. I woke up at 7 am (the usual) and after ten minutes of battling away the sleep in my eyes, rolled over my boyfriend still soundly asleep in the XL-twin bed we often co-inhabit. I fumbled into the bathroom, did the face wash and tooth brush thing, picked out an outfit (which my bio buddy complimented me on) and even did make-up -- all in under twenty minutes (so pro). The cruiser headed my way just as I'd waded through the semi-paved snow, my Joan of Arctic snow boots thoroughly covered by the time I walked up the bus stairs and greeted Gary, the punctual driver. I ate a gluten-free bagel and Nutella (different from my usual 7:40 craving of an egg white omelet with bacon, cheese, broccoli, and tomato). I was pretty grumpy this morning and remember silently cursing the girl in front of me at the fruit bar because she was literally taking all of the ripe strawberries. While chowing down on the best meal ever, I checked my email. My boss decided to put me in charge of making a... pregnancy brochure due ASAP. I spent the next moments before class browsing through infographic inspiration sights because the Harvard example he sent me was boring and gray (sorry, Harvard). <br />
Then, classes happened. Sociology was fun, I guess. We switched seats and I participated in class by answering a question about what the pros of experiments are (which is such an accomplishment for me because I'm socially awkward as SHIET). Then I half-ran to Biology (because the good seats in the front of the lecture hall get taken quickly, and this girl likes to sit in the front). I caught up to my friend Liebs on the way, and she looked like a walking purple jelly bean because of her purple puffer and purple boots (which reminds me of the all white outfit-- white khakis and off-white parka-- my boyfriend wore yesterday, which everyone laughed at during dinner because he looked like a freaking astronaut or person who didn't look in the mirror while dressing himself). In Bio, I learned about Glycolysis. <br />
I have this awkward hour in between the end of my 9:20 and my 11:20, so I ran errands. I went to the convenience store conveniently located like three minutes away from my class and bought cotton balls because I use them to remove my makeup at night. Then, I bought some lunch things and had an awkward 10:30 lunch of a peanut butter protein smoothie and a banana. Afterwards, I visited a professor to see if he'd received my application for Summer Research because I messed up trying to submit it on the Google Form. He interviewed me right then and there and I was glad I was feeling coherent. I talked about my limited experience with macroinvertebrates and he seemed relatively interested in this.<br />
In Psych, I almost frikkin passed out because that smoothie had gluten or something. Jk. I just looked up bananas on goodhousekeeping.com and they say bananas are a "Sleep Soundly" food because the magnesium and potassium are muscle and nerve relaxants. Plus, the vitamin B6 converts tryptophan into serotonin, which also increases relaxation. <br />
Post-psych, I ran down the hill to the art department and drew a pregnant woman on Photoshop. A dude from my art history class set next to me and asked me about reading. The last time I'd talked to him, I think, was freshman year first semester when we had a library shift at our library job together. We never really talked though... I think I asked him like, where a section of books was.<br />
Then, I went to drawing. No one likes to sit with me... like, I have a desk by myself while everyone else is crammed 4 to a desk. But it's okay because I can spread my junk errywhere.<br />
Then, I went to work and worked on the pregnancy thing. There was also a giant stuffed bear in the office because of our "Be Beary SAFE" campaign about sexual health.<br />
It was 5, and I ran to cheer practice. We did dances and some stunting and conditioning until 7. By 7, I had my first actual meal in like 12 hours. I ate super cheesy enchiladas and a ton of tomato soup. I saw my friend Nick who I hadn't seen in forever, and we talked in the enchilada line. The cheer girls and I were super loud at our table because we make fun of each other a lot and laugh at everything which is great. Then, I had to go to stupid PLTL which I resent because of the time, but end up liking when I'm actually doing it. It's for Bio and we do a study group with practice problems for upcoming tests. By 9:20-something, I was freeeeee. So I went to the library and wrote this. Oh, and before I got a laptop, I was sadly sitting on the stairs because I literally felt drained of all life. A girl I new walked by and asked what I was doing on the stairs. She kindly asked if I needed anyone to talk to because I said I probably looked really sad, but I just laughed and told her I was okay. I'm totally pumped to do hw now haha. #collegelife <br />
Now it's ten. I should do my lab report or something. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05649125903162747554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-955022660258954031.post-49515329495587682902015-01-06T16:06:00.000-08:002015-01-06T16:06:00.662-08:00Kinda Lethargic During the school year, my Monday would look like:<br />
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7:00 AM Wake up<br />
7:34 Catch the cruiser<br />
7:40 Breakfast at Frank<br />
8:20-9:10 Legacies of the Ancient World<br />
9:20-10:10 Core Japan<br />
10:20-12:10 PM Painting I<br />
12:20 Lunch<br />
1:30-2:30 Work<br />
2:45-4:00 Art History<br />
4:15 Dinner<br />
5:00-8 Cheer Practice<br />
8-12 Studying studying studying<br />
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And over break, it's like:<br />
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8:00 AM Wake up (haha still jet lagged?), Cook Egg whites + Banana Gluten free Pancakes (mmm) and Blueberries<br />
9-10 Watch Pretty Little Liars<br />
10-12 Film and Edit YouTube Video<br />
12-1 PM Watch YouTube videos<br />
1-4:30 Dance Moms marathon! Ahh Season 6 Premiere. The drama...<br />
6-7 Zumba<br />
7-8 Power Yoga<br />
8-11 Watch movies and read my book on Australia my beautiful friend Kat gave me for Fearsome Five Day, <i>The Sunburned Country </i><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05649125903162747554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-955022660258954031.post-33942394259265625762014-12-07T10:57:00.003-08:002014-12-30T10:10:03.804-08:00Colgate Protests<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCY73BgOlSuBLSwdM5_j5bLQZqSO7jSuQY8BmYnpjfhJUzmF5ipeEHtB7eVLR9V16xv4X0TQVTnIZ3-XyJwXvUGrNW3RDEIaJrnGuJ3PBY8hO3ZpKYuT53r9bDID9MYgVX7CXgOOi-g94/s1600/IMG_0757.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCY73BgOlSuBLSwdM5_j5bLQZqSO7jSuQY8BmYnpjfhJUzmF5ipeEHtB7eVLR9V16xv4X0TQVTnIZ3-XyJwXvUGrNW3RDEIaJrnGuJ3PBY8hO3ZpKYuT53r9bDID9MYgVX7CXgOOi-g94/s1600/IMG_0757.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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On the Window</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3DN0_seEq_9hSvxlsnMUe0KrNHxNQIasZS_tIeKLkKVoNbe9pqxeQjA1R831Nbw4eKBPGhr4NdO7qelUOiMHYdZOD4ql7Eza1PZCj7xJBA_C_VfAKWtPCu2ZYKzImUM-DpF0WCdpc1CI/s1600/IMG_0758.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3DN0_seEq_9hSvxlsnMUe0KrNHxNQIasZS_tIeKLkKVoNbe9pqxeQjA1R831Nbw4eKBPGhr4NdO7qelUOiMHYdZOD4ql7Eza1PZCj7xJBA_C_VfAKWtPCu2ZYKzImUM-DpF0WCdpc1CI/s1600/IMG_0758.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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On Teacher's Doors</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJJWhbDFlOs6m63ecJqyFpbp3lFjHGic1-BoRxw6SHAWb7lCGvB5gHQLKAIoGD2vivGQaXIVs-AQHlKWz673M40KtVUWeU8b4tXDL7r3Nt54nK9vqPvR-uLUcrnJ62yUws0g_XgIxFLoY/s1600/IMG_0780.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJJWhbDFlOs6m63ecJqyFpbp3lFjHGic1-BoRxw6SHAWb7lCGvB5gHQLKAIoGD2vivGQaXIVs-AQHlKWz673M40KtVUWeU8b4tXDL7r3Nt54nK9vqPvR-uLUcrnJ62yUws0g_XgIxFLoY/s1600/IMG_0780.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
(in Blue Ink) on the window of the Dining/ Studying Area<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgltmpZM1lwJIcVbkkQLB1RJPr_lR1qhyhV6pXRnNoHKJdLwEJG1iKLL7z9nIpnJzhMFv7dbmAQ4FfN7bpDzFeOuRRvFJvJ5JMaJdxLW0vC-S9tBwiLNRTDtfWlx_uLZvJHapoy5XU9bAo/s1600/IMG_0809.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgltmpZM1lwJIcVbkkQLB1RJPr_lR1qhyhV6pXRnNoHKJdLwEJG1iKLL7z9nIpnJzhMFv7dbmAQ4FfN7bpDzFeOuRRvFJvJ5JMaJdxLW0vC-S9tBwiLNRTDtfWlx_uLZvJHapoy5XU9bAo/s1600/IMG_0809.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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In the Residential Hall</div>
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On Thursday, I noticed that the glass surfaces of Colgate University were less transparent than usual. The glass panes of doors and windows played the role of bulletin boards. Hand-written scrawl in black and white screamed "I CAN'T BREATHE," "BLACK LIVES MATTER," "#FERGUSON," and other intense statements of 150 characters or less. The words were inescapable. While pounding away at a key board in the Keck Computer Lab in an attempt to hack out a paper, my attention was distracted to my left. I looked over and saw a girl scrawling "BLACK LIVES MATTER" in Expo across a glass wall. She put her whole arm into the endeavor, each letter created standing a foot tall.<br />
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<i>Okay,</i> I thought.<i> The killing of unarmed black men by police officers is inexcusable, so this a</i><i>wareness is a good thing. But... isn't writing on everything a form of vandalism? Is vandalism okay if it's for a just cause?</i></div>
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The shock I'd feel every time I saw the intense phrases subsided as the day went on. I went to cheer practice. I ate dinner and a second dinner. (I was hungry, alright?). And then I heard about the Die-in. The Die-in took place at the COOP, a dining facility/ mail-room/ computer lab/ casual study space. Basically, a lot of people go in and out of the place on a daily basis. However, accessibility became difficult by mid-afternoon. Students lay on the ground on the steps of the building. More writing was written on the coop glass walls. "28 HOURS." Or in chalk along the steps. The statements had become more aggressive and profane. "FUCK YOUR PRIVILEGE." And, in my opinion, divisional. </div>
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Then, protesters defaced the American flag. </div>
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<img height="480" src="https://scontent-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpa1/v/l/t1.0-9/10850245_893315020680324_7825524159788767993_n.jpg?oh=378c787ea26168875cc36c183074e7f4&oe=55019CCF" width="640" /></div>
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Until Friday, I had not been directly affected by the events of the protest. </div>
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Friday was the day of Dancefest. I was pumped. My freshman year, I started dancing with the Colgate Ballet Company, and since then, Dancefest has been one of my favorite parts of my college experience. Dancefest is the one night each semester when Colgate's dance groups perform two-hours worth of routines. It's probably the most well-attended on-campus events, attracting nearly the entire student body, faculty, local Hamiltonians, and dancers' families. It's the time when all the rehearsing/choreographing/preparing costumes, lights, music, etc. pays off. </div>
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Ten minutes before the show would begin at 6 pm, the line to the Chapel entrance still stretched through the lobby and outside the door. Seats on the bottom floor were full, yet many parents and students had yet to sit down. We had been informed the balcony seats (numbering a guesstimate of 200) would be closed due to <i>security threats. </i>That is not something you tell a crowded room full of dancers before their performance. Something like this had never happened before, and the silence in the Chapel basement (a room which right before Dancefest any other year would have been a scene of dancers with anticipation and excitement, mascara and lipstick, photo-ops, and last minute routine run-throughs) felt wrong.<br />
We all had gathered in a circle around the Dancefest coordinators who informed us what was going on. People would be turned away from the performance because there loomed the threat of <i>protesters throwing projectiles at the dancers or the audience from the balcony seats? </i>Parents had driven for <i>hours </i>to see their kids dance and couldn't even enter the Chapel. Some dancers could not help but fall apart. Tears were shed out of pure frustration. (Luckily, the balcony seats were opened right before the show, and security members were stationed on both floors.)</div>
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This was when I thought the protest had gone too far. </div>
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Black lives matter, but that does not mean you have the right as a protester to belittle the lives of everyone else. I understand that many protesters are dedicated about to the cause to the point of sacrificing their daily routines, and not performing in the show themselves. But you cannot force everyone else to follow what you personally believe is "the right way" to support this cause. </div>
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<b> Everyone should be allowed to make a choice. </b></div>
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Additionally, I understand that if you want to get a message out to the student body, what better way to do it than when nearly everyone is collectively gathered? But why can't you create your own event instead of inconsiderately overtaking another's event? That protesters would even think it was just to take-over Dancefest was shocking. Such plans to "thrown projectiles" are disrespectful to everyone who had dedicated so much effort to the show and those who would come to attend.</div>
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Furthermore, just because I'm dancing does not mean I don't care about the injustice occurring throughout the United States or anywhere for that matter. It's 2 hours to dance and enjoy the company of fellow dancer and dance-lovers. And just because I don't protest the way you protest does not mean I am ignorant, uncaring, heartless, selfish, racist, etc.<br />
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What I hate about the outcome of Colgate's protests is that is always turns into a matter of <i>us </i>against <i>them. </i>Of <i>we're right </i>and <i>you're wrong. </i>Of <i>if you don't show your support the way we show our support </i><b>then you're obviously racist/ a horrible person/ not on the side of justice!!!! </b></div>
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<b> </b>I get that the protesters are fighting for a cause, but it sucks that through protesters' often aggressive methods, a dichotomy is created. <b>The message they portray is no longer "join our cause", but "join OUR SIDE, OUR METHODS, OUR IDEOLOGY or else your doing the whole care-about-a-cause thing wrong." </b><br />
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Another thing to note, those expo-ed words are vandalism. I overheard stories of a custodian becoming flustered and upset because her job was to clean the words off the glass. However, the words, like the protesters, seemed immovable. And even after she'd tried to smudge the words off the glass, they'd reappear in a matter of minutes.<br />
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Update: A week later, those words were still partially written on the walls. Who would see these words over break except the custodial staff? Clean up your messes, protesters. Don't burden the custodial staff.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05649125903162747554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-955022660258954031.post-63058346923465952222014-12-02T05:00:00.002-08:002014-12-30T10:11:35.350-08:00What to do when you miss your flightI was supposed to leave on a plane to Seattle from Portland at 5:35AM, but my friend and I managed to miscalculate the drive (I didn't realize how far away the airport was and I didn't know that she was convinced my flight was at 7). So there we were, in a frantic race against time in downtown Portland during freaking rush hour. My wonderful friend drove as quickly as the universe allowed. Meanwhile, I pressed my iPhone to my left ear in an attempt to either a) stall the very on-time flight or b)rebook at a price I could afford (which, after a long trip to Canada was not a hefty sum #starvingcollegestudent).<br />
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Step 1: Call a Delta Representative as soon as you realize you may miss your flight.<br />
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I called at 4:00PM and asked for a "representative" on the virtual hotline (what I actually put forth was "Talk to a real person") and was redirected to be put on a call-back wait list. Delta called me back 10 minutes later.<br />
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With my Seattle connection at 9:55PM, it was feasible to drive to Sea-tax with a good cushion before boarding time. However, the representative told me that the moment I do not step foot on the Portland plane, Seattle is no longer considered my connection, but would be recorded as my first flight. As a result of this deviation in my itinerary, I would be charged a rebooking fee and the fare difference. That's an additional $570 to the $535 I'd already spent on the round trip ticket.<br />
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"What I don't understand is why I have to pay the extra fee. I'm going on the same flight!"<br />
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"I'm sorry, but this is the procedure. Because you missed the Portland flight, it is considered a flight change."<br />
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"But I can't afford that," I pleaded. "I'm just a college student and I really just want to get back to school."<br />
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She put me in a long hold because she was on hold herself to speak with a Delta supervisor to see if there were something she could do to help.<br />
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She told me that her supervisor needed to hear the reason behind my missing the flight. My friend suggested I pull the "flat tire" card. (This didn't work for another lady I met later at the airport who'd also missed her flight. ) But I told her what actually happened: miscalculations and Rush hour traffic.<br />
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Luckily, the supervisor was nice enough to waive the $200 rebooking fee for which ever flight I decided to rebook for.<br />
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Nevertheless, I tried to get to my Portland gate. I got stuck in security at 5:30. While frantically putting my laptop in a separate bin and scurrying though the metal detector thing, I recalled the other converaation I'd had with the representative. What does "departure time" really mean? American Airlines' definition of "departure" time is basically the time half the plane is boarded, so I had to ask.<br />
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"Does 'depart at 5:35' mean the plane is finishing boarding?"<br />
"It means the plane is departing..."<br />
"So is it like taxiing... Or in the air?"<br />
"...it means the plane has left the airport."<br />
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Basically, by the time I got through security, my friend who went to find parking saw my plane fly away. Kudos to Delta's punctuality.<br />
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I got to the gate 4 minutes after departure time and received a snarky remark from the man at the gate desk when I asked if my flight had departed. "To answer your question, yes your flight departed," he finally retorted after asking for my name and pounding away at his keyboard.<br />
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Though his reaction was jerky, the Delta representative and supervisor had put me in a good mood. The ladies at the help desk (which the delta gate man snarkily replied was "on the other side of security"-- cue my brain screaming NOOOOOOOO I have to go through that AGAIN?!) found a flight at $367 to Atlanta which would get me to Syracuse roughly the same time, and had only one stopover while my d flight had two. They also accepted my $200 fee waiver that had been imputted into the system by the Delta supervisor. So $167 was not too shabby. Thanks, Delta (:Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05649125903162747554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-955022660258954031.post-65780248218498537882014-11-10T09:15:00.003-08:002015-05-13T16:50:05.771-07:00Painting for the Sake of PaintingWhy do paintings have to have deeper meanings? Why can't I just paint because the colors are pretty? Ughhhhhhh I want to paint a landscape, not make a comment on society.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05649125903162747554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-955022660258954031.post-32114662461830750272014-10-17T17:12:00.001-07:002015-05-13T16:50:21.325-07:00This is What Fall Looks Like<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRW8__Zkz4kY-hivUTM38xB3Vj5RO8ymo77UOhg-S_FXtBvnKT9YqUYghspsPwth-boYnyUXkPsKECTkjffsHXjxvVFwFmXU3yv6MA0LNoRvsQkabxIj8D0OAQPrxyepttRaKYjoH0Xuw/s1600/fall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRW8__Zkz4kY-hivUTM38xB3Vj5RO8ymo77UOhg-S_FXtBvnKT9YqUYghspsPwth-boYnyUXkPsKECTkjffsHXjxvVFwFmXU3yv6MA0LNoRvsQkabxIj8D0OAQPrxyepttRaKYjoH0Xuw/s1600/fall.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05649125903162747554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-955022660258954031.post-14570150626682207632014-08-31T08:22:00.001-07:002014-12-30T10:11:22.595-08:00Goodbye California, Hello... Chicago?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Ahoy, mateys! This is yer cap'n Angel ere in a hotel in Chicago.</div>
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Just this past January, I started my day at 5 a.m. at the airport. I wore a floral dress over two pairs of leggings, thick wool socks, a cardigan, my warmest parka, and snow boots, all in preparation for the icy New York weather in store for me upon my back-to-school arrival. My first flight, between SJC and LAX went smoothly, as did the flight from LAX to Chicago. But then, American Airlines did that thing that's getting familiar to me way too quickly. They canceled my flight. (And rescheduled me for another <i>two flights- </i>Chicago to La Guardia, La Guardia to Syracuse, but that's not important. Just ridiculous. Four flights to get from coast to coast? Really?) </div>
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Fast forward eight months, and here I am again. Stuck in Chicago. </div>
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I always get the worst anxiety/panic/rage when my flight gets cancelled. I had all these lovely travel plans and arrangements, and, regardless of past instances, this amazing optimism. [The night before my flight. <i>Hmmm... Should I pack an extra pair of clothes in case I get stuck somewhere?.... Nah!</i>] And when my flight gets cancelled, all of these happy things go down the toilet, and I am very unpleasant to be around. </div>
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Rewind 8 hours. My flight was supposed to board at 4:00 pm. Then, the flight attendant at the desk revised this to 4:30 pm. Then, there was another change in plans: the plane would arrive at 5:30 pm. Finally, the group of us waiting in the lobby were asked to move for the people flying to Kalamazoo. A white lady yelled, "Ugh, Where's <i>Kalamazoo </i>anyway?" </div>
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"Michigan!" I retorted. (Just something I know.) </div>
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The flight was cancelled and all the following flights to Syracuse were over-booked until 27 hours from 5:30. At least this time around, I was keen on what to do.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">What to do When Your Flight Gets Cancelled</span></div>
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1) Go up to front desk and ask for a possible re-booking.</div>
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It is the responsibility of the airline to help you to your destination. Be patient and see if you can make a later flight to your destination (be it a direct flight or through transfers). </div>
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2) If the new flight is the next day, ask for a hotel voucher.</div>
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If the flight was cancelled due to "weather," the airline does not have to pay for your room and meals. They should, however, be able to provide discounted hotel rooms. (For example, my hotel room was supposed to be triple digits, but my discount ticket allowed me to get it for $69. $69 for free wifi, free breakfast buffets, two beds, and complimentary candy at the front desk is pretty suite! I mean sweet.) </div>
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Also, when calling the toll-free number on the voucher paper, be extremely patient. It took me 23 minutes to connect to a human one time. </div>
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3) When looking for the hotel shuttle, ask ask ask a worker.</div>
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The signs are helpful, but some airports are too confusing to maneuver without experience. </div>
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4) Keep your cool.</div>
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There's no need to freak out. In the end, everything will be okay. Go to the closest Starbucks and ask for a cup of water. Drink it. Calm down. Breathe, baby, breathe! </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Chicago Adventures</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span> I finally got a hold of an actual person. The first hotel recommendation she listed was "Springhill Suites" for $69. "How far is-" "It's 2 miles away." "Oh, thanks. Yeah! I'll take it!" Last year, the cheapest offer was $129, so at the sound of $69, I couldn't not say "yes."</div>
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I got lost on my way to finding the shuttle which would take me from ORD to Springhill Suites O'Hare. In the process of wandering semi-aimlessly, I happened upon a convince shop. A tan, dark-haired Hispanic woman was neatly folding a gimmicky "CHICAGO" shirt, and I casually inquired, "Um, do you sell underwear here?"</div>
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"Yes," she answered with disinterest; her expression was bored if not annoyed. "Over there in the left corner. You should see it."</div>
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I sauntered over and proceeded to browse through a small hanging assemblage of panties on thin, plastic hangers. I awkwardly caught the glance of the sales associate who was now behind the cashier next to the lingerie rack as I searched for something that would work. Yes! I found a basic white Aeropostale number in my size. I handed the find to my cashier, and as she eyed my choice (a thong) my cheeks flushed.</div>
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I quickly rushed to explain myself. It was kind of weird for an airport guest to need to purchase a thong at 9 pm, especially some girl who looked fifteen at most. "My flight got cancelled," I babbled. "And now that I need to stay overnight at a hotel, I thought, 'I definitely need clean underwear for the morning!'"</div>
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Though wearing a stern expression, the woman carried on my conversation. "Why was it cancelled?" she asked.</div>
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"Weather-related, I think. It's rainy over there."</div>
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"You're staying over there?" she motioned to the Hilton hotel underground entrance to our left.</div>
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"No," I laughed. "That's way too pricy for me."</div>
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"Oh, then do you know where to go for shuttle?"</div>
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"Is it that way?" I gestured behind me.</div>
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"No," she retorted as if I were an idiot/ lost puppy. "You go over to the trains. Take the elevator to the first floor."</div>
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"Thank you!"</div>
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The wait was probably just 10-15 minutes, but it felt like eons. I'm always paranoid that I'm at the wrong terminal or that the bus came and I missed it, especially since this always seems to happen to me at night. I stood with my back leaned against the glass wall. The weather was slightly-humid and like, seventy-something here in Chicago. A blonde woman stood beside me. She had on work-out leggings, running shoes, and a water-proof sweater. She looked around my age (not that I look my age, but that's besides the point) but a few years older. I heard the sound of a baby, and I realized it was coming from her iPhone. A tiny blonde girl in pink walked around the screen; she was FaceTiming her daughter. "I know baby. But you'll be good with Grandma. I have to travel for work, remember?" Soon, my shuttle came, a white van that could seat seven passengers. I sat beside a middle-aged, largish white guy in a button-up and behind him was another white, thirty-something man with circular glasses and a flight attendant getup. An Asian girl around my age with a Samsung Galaxy phone sat in the front seat, her hands in her lap and holding her phone.</div>
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Our driver was crazy friendly and accommodating. He asked things like, "Does anyone want a bottle of water?" or "Have you stayed with us before?" or "Where are you all from?" and told us about all the guest perks as we made our way out of the airport loading station and onto the merge toward the highway. "And there's a free continental breakfast from 6-9."</div>
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Then, the man in the back gossiped about his life as a flight attendant. "I survived Cleveland, Ohio" "When an airline says 'Mechanical' problem, that just means, 'We messed up.'" The man beside me told me he was a pastor and taught at a small Lutheran college in Los Angeles. I told everyone I was from San Jose, but I went to college in upstate New York. The pastor and I agreed that Californians don't know what "cold" means. He told me how he'd taken a group of LA kids on a trip to Colorado and they walked out into six inches of snow in flip flops. I told him that my friends at UC San Diego freeze at sixty degrees. This made the flight attendant giggle. "Californians are babies," the pastor declared, and the flight attendant and I agreed.</div>
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The tall, black man at the front desk saw me pull out my blue "Distress" voucher. "That's never good," he joked. He gave me a card for my room.</div>
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"Breakfast's 6-9, right?" I asked.</div>
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"Yeah.." he looked at me as if I were psychic. Then he realized, "Oh! Driver?"</div>
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"Mhm."</div>
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I walked into a room with a small dining area (microwave, mini fridge, table, two chairs, coffee machine), living room area (couch, table, plasma screen tv), and two queen-sized beds (two!?). The guy at the front desk did know it was just me, right? This room definitely did not cost $69. The sheets were white and pristine. The eight pillows were hella fluffy. There wasn't much of a view because I was on the second floor, but the shower was nice and the kitchen shelves were stocked with paper plates and plastic cutlery. I looked at the door and price of the room was set at $259.</div>
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I spent the night Skyping with my boyfriend and spent the next morning eating delicious turkey sausage patties, yogurt, eggs, and an orange from the free breakfast, and watching America's Next Top model re-runs, Dance Moms, and Project Runway. The kind front desk guy had extended my check-out from 12 pm to 1 pm. I stayed as long as I could before exceeding check-out, and my suite life regrettably reached its end. I brought my ass back to O'Hare wearing yesterday's ensemble (omitting the underwear), went through security (again. ughhhhh), and proceeded to wander around until my heavy backpack got the best of my weak baby back. I stopped near the rotunda where a curved set of stairs wove to the second floor. A sign read, "Yoga Room."</div>
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Yoga room? I asked a young, Latina flight attendant where the yoga room was.</div>
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"Right up there. That-a-way," she pointed. "There's also a garden up there. Obviously, it's not an actual garden, but there are plants. And there's stuff to do up there besides yoga, like relaxing areas."</div>
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"Thank you," I said and went on my way.</div>
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A woman was just preparing to leave the Yoga Room when I came in. Three used, blue Yoga mats lay flat on the dark brown wooden floor. Mirrors lined the wall in front of me. I proceeded to perform the Vinyasa I remembered doing in Yoga class. Plank, cobra, upward dog, downward dog. Then, I was touching my toes when a young girl in a pink ruffly top and equally bright hot coral skirt and red crocs sauntered into the room. She nervously looked my way and then back to her reflection in the mirror. "Hi!" I said.</div>
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She instantly smiled. "Hi!"</div>
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"Do you actually know how to do Yoga?" I asked.</div>
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"Nope!" she replied. She started doing these crazy hand-stands though and after that, we started "talking about our lives!" (That's what she told her dad when he came in.)</div>
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"Are you Asian?"</div>
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"Yeah."</div>
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"How long have you lived here?"</div>
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"Since I was born. I was born in California. But my parents are from the Philippines. My dad's side is all here though. But my mom's side is still over there."</div>
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"Like my family!" Katie laughed. Her family's split between the mid-west and Hastings, England. She doesn't have an accent but says words less heard in my neck of the woods such as "Pardon, dodgey, and quite." She didn't look Asian at all with her pale skin and orange hair, but her mum is actually half-Korean. Katie talked about living among the London Fog and having a tradition to take selfies with her sister with the Buckingham Palace every time they visit London. At ten-years-old, she'd already traveled to Spain, France, and many states in America (we both haven't been to Hawaii but really want to!). Her favorite place in the States is Utah. She also wants to visit her mom's hometown, Seoul. She's homeschooled because, "My dad is a pastor, and my family, we believe that God created everything. So, my parents didn't feel we had to learn... what's that thing in science?"</div>
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"Evolution."</div>
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"Yeah, evolution. We're not against others teaching it or anything, it's just not what we believe. Plus, I get to learn what twelve-year-olds like my sister learn. Because my mom teaches us both from the course recommended for 10-14."</div>
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She asked me how old I was and I said, "19." She tried to hide her surprise. "But I don't think I really look 19. I look about 15, right?" </div>
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"Yeah," Katie laughed in agreement.</div>
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We talked for at least an hour when her dad came in to tell her they'd found a flight. They were on standby; they get free tickets this way since her mom used to be a flight attendant. Her mom was actually still in Utah. Since they're a family of six (four daughters), it was hard to find a flight together to get to their connection before heading back to London.</div>
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As we said goodbye, she seemed to want to give a hug, but being a reserved Brit, she stuck out her hand. "Very diplomatic," I joked as we shook.</div>
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"I really hope I see you again!" she beamed. "If you're ever in London! You should visit. I'm in Hastings!"</div>
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Now, it's just me in a cushy, bright Crayola-colored-pencil-light-green chair beside the "garden" on the second floor. I have a bag of Cinnamon Sugar Pretzel Bites from Auntie Annies, and there's a good five hours before my flight boards. (If it boards). There's an 80% chance of rain in Chicago, and the sky already looks unpromising. It was thundering this morning, and bright lightning flashed at my hotel window at least twice. It's just overcast now, but there's a lot more haze looming in the horizon. I've heard the weather's not so great in Syracuse either. Airplanes are still zooming out though. I'll hope for the best. I really don't want to leave my seat, but I'm curious about the upcoming flight to Syracuse. There's an earlier booked flight at 4:30pm.</div>
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I asked the black man at the front desk if I could be put on the waitlist (standby) for the 4:30 flight (which soon became a 5:38 pm flight due to weather). I blurted out things like "I need to go back to school- Colgate- to start my job!" and he gained interest. "Hmm, my fraternity started at Colgate." I was bumped from number 9 on the waiting list to 7. A Filipina woman in a sweater, practical jeans, and black, one-inch wedged thick-strapped sandals, asked me if I were going to Cornell. "My husband, daughter, and I were supposed to go at 4:30 pm yesterday, but it got cancelled (the same flight as me). My husband went in the morning, my daughter went by 1 pm, and now I'm trying to get on this flight." She was second on the standby list. Meanwhile, the flight before Syracuse at our gate, Kalamazoo got cancelled due to weather, and I saw the look of some poor, foreign-exchange, unaccompanied minor. When the flight attendant told him his flight had been cancelled, his mouth made a perfect "o" and his eyes looked like they would tear up if he were just a smidgen worse at handling himself decorously. Finally, the Syracuse plane arrived, and everyone who came off the plane looked miserable and slightly damp with the Illinois humidity. I love people watching at airports. You see the people who look like their on business trips and the ones who don't give a shit. Now, it was time for all the Syracuse standbyers to wait to hear their fates.</div>
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Simultaneously, the people headed for Great Rapids (supposedly at 4:30 pm) at the gate beside ours, were suffering from their own dilemma. The Indian man standing at their gate repeatedly called out bad news. "Your flight will be delayed half-an-hour." (Repeat) "I am very sorry, but your flight will be delayed half-an-hour. Thank you for your patience." (Again, now, with feeling!) "Thank you for your patience, but for everyone on the flight to Great Rapids- one of your crew members is late. Your flight will be delayed until 5:30." (More feeling!) "I am sorry to say that your parents have perished in a fire-" (Just kidding) "I am sorry but one of the crew members is still in Wisconsin. He is the head flight attendant. He is stuck in Wisconsin and his plane has not landed." (One last time!) "I'm sorry but the flight attendant is now in the air. Your flight will be delayed until 6:30 pm." The flight to Syracuse was boarding and an Indian woman held her tan, blonde baby in her arms (her husband was white) and said, "Why does he keep repeating that?"</div>
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A man on standby who lives in Syracuse said, "Yeah, he's just making their blood boil."</div>
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"Why don't they just put a marionette in the seat? How's the flight going, captain? It's going great!" a tall, burly white man in his mid fourties/early fifities hooted.</div>
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The adults burst into laughter.</div>
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Well, I didn't make the flight. The nice Filipina lady did, though, (and the guy who lives in Syracuse and I actually applauded because she'd been here among this chaos for over a day now and we'd been waiting for something good to happen at this horrific airport) and some other woman with a cute, at-the-chin hair cut that rendered her head very onion-esque boarded, too (but sadly, not her husband, to whom she gave six other potential standby tickets to Syracuse. Oh, man. Good luck to that guy).</div>
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Now, I'm sitting at a Starbucks, and thankfully, I have a gorgeous view of the G gates. I snagged a table right at a corner, and the sun's streaming down onto my laptop. It's kind of chilly in here, but my new Northface fuzzy makes-me-look-like-a-black-bear jacket keeps me cozy. For some reason, tall green tea Frappuccino's are $5.25 here. It is 6:06 pm (Chicago time: +2 than Cali time, -1 than NY time), and I'm not hungry, so I'm thinking of just eating a million gluten free cheese things (Van's cheese snacks) for dinner.</div>
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I finally boarded. Of course, the flight got delayed by half-an-hour, but you know how American Airlines is! Before the flight, this super pissed off brunette woman told off the guy at the front desk because of the constant gate changes for our flight. I really hope I don't have to be a flight-desk person ever. I'd get so much crap about things I had nothing to do with and couldn't control. I sat next to a large, middle-aged white man and a row from the guy who lived in Syracuse. My seatmate and I started conversing after I asked him when he thought our flight would arrive. We spent nearly all of the two hours of our flight gossiping about our families and college. I told him about my little sister who's a junior and he talked about his girl who's a senior. He did that thing all parents do, brag. I learned his girl was a life guard, in the top 5% of her class, a cheerleader, etc. etc. and they'd started college searching that summer. I told him about my aspirations with art even though my parents think it's too unconventional, but he was totally open to the idea of having an artistic career path. "There are so many more jobs out there than you're told about," he advised. He was super fatherly and when our flight landed, he handed me a business card and told me to call if I ever needed help, helped me find the Birnie Bus Driver, and told her to make sure I got back to school safely.<br />
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A girl from Hong Kong who'd been on the same cancelled flight as me the day before searched for her luggage without success. I asked her if she was going to Colgate, but she said she went to Syracuse. The flight attendant at the desk, a twenty-something blonde with bird-like features was being bombarded with nasty accusations and threats from the same brunette who told off the other flight attendant in Chicago. "I am NEVER flying with AMERICAN. EVER. This is TERRIBLE! I NEED my LUGGAGE. I have MEDICATIONS!!!!! I need it NOW!" That poor blonde woman was noticeably struggling to keep herself together; her mouth was trembling. The Hong Konger and I were tiredly waiting behind the screaming lady when another airport worker came up to us. "What's your last name?" I told her and she said, "I know where your bag is." She led me to a room behind the check-in desk, asked me to describe the bags, and swiftly found them. I motioned the Hong Konger toward me, and she was also reunited with her luggage. "I'm glad someone has her shit together!" I announced. We smiled and went our separate ways.<br />
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I decided to sit in the front with the Birnie Bus Driver. It was almost 2 a.m. and we started talking about her kids. She talked about how her daughter used to get really sick, so she'd give her children's cough medicine. "Turns our the meds had too much sugar, man, and they rotted her teeth!" I was pretty drowsy but the driver chatted about her life. She's 59 and never went on a plane because she's afraid they'll crash; she'd much rather cruise. She's one of twenty-six kids, and even though she's adopted, she'd reconnected with many of her siblings (most in different states) and her birth parents. "I asked 'em, why'd you have so many kids even though you knew you couldn't support them all?" And they said, "We wanted a big family!" She talked about how she loves to help disabled kids by driving them around. She told me a story about one boy who'd always throw tantrums. The driver is supposed to set the kid in the seat directly behind them, but he'd always be kicking her back. So, one day, she moved him to the very back seat of the van, took the middle seat out, and he behaved himself. It turned out he was pretty blind and was happier in the back because he could feel the vibrations of the wheels. However, the disabled boy's dad raged when he saw that the driver had put his child in the back. "Why you put my kid all the way in the back? Why would you treat him like that?? he said. But I talked back to him, said, 'Because he likes it there, man! He don't have a tantrums anymore when you put in there!' And that shut the dad up." She talked about an old woman she'd met a dance club. The woman was asking random men for a ride home, "When I came to her and told those men, 'Nah! She's with me!' And then I told 'er, 'You don't go home with strange men! I'll take you home!' And I did. And we became friends, I'd take her shopping, you know, with my daughter. This woman, she loved animals, always feed the squirrels. One day, we went shopping and then I didn't hear from her for a while. Then, a few days later, her daughter calls me, says her mom didn't pick up the phone. So we go visit. And when we opened the door, we saw her on the floor. Face down, her butt sticking up. Like, she'd walked down stairs in the middle of the night for a snack or to use the bathroom but then, coming back up, had a stroke and died. Must've been there two days." <br />
"Oh my God, that's so sad," I whispered.<br />
"Yeah, and I think, I coulda done something. You know, before I went shopping, a day before I saw her in her garden, lookin pale and not able to trim her hedges. Do know what I do? I told my son to trim the hedges, and he did that. And I took her home and told her, you should go see the doctor. I should have taken her right then. I knew something wasn't right."<br />
<br />
When we came onto campus, I waited for my roommate, Gian, to come help me take my bags up to the third floor of our building. However, three very drunk guys talking way too loudly sauntered up to the Birnie Bus. "We can help her," one guy in a button up announced to the bus driver.<br />
"She's waiting on her roommate," the bus driver said.<br />
"Ok, we'll wait, too," another guy announced. It was past 3 a.m. Even though the guys insisted they could help me, the bus driver did not leave my side. Once the three guys realized my roommate was a guy who could carry my suitcases himself, they went off on their way. I thanked the bus driver for staying with me.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05649125903162747554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-955022660258954031.post-15895271208218058322014-08-19T15:07:00.001-07:002014-08-19T15:08:34.962-07:00Why I Hate Packing It's not so much figuring out what to bring as it is figuring out what to leave behind. I always try so hard to cram all of my clothes into a single, large luggage, but it's never a perfect fit. The reason I'm so paranoid about leaving any clothes behind is this: <span style="font-size: x-large;">my sister is a clothes-stealing MONSTER. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span>No joke.<br />
My clothes are at risk of being stolen, stretched (my sister is 3-4 sizes larger than I am), and/or altered if I leave them at home. I am very over-protective of my clothing and feel constant paranoia knowing that they're not safe if I leave them at home.<br />
<br />
My mum tries to make excuses in my sister's defense:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Your clothes got mixed in with hers after doing laundry</li>
<li> It was an accident</li>
<li>She's not stealing your clothes. You're just paranoid</li>
</ul>
<div>
These would be plausible excuses if not for the <b>multiple </b>offenses and <b>substantial </b>evidence. </div>
<div>
<ol>
<li>In 2012, my sister and I co-purchased a gorgeous, over-priced (but thankfully on sale) long sleeved grey Free People top with awesome open back detailing. It also had romantic, black embroidery on the sleeves, and every time I wore this top, I'd get a compliment or two. It was a gorgeous top. I left for college without the top. When I came home from college over winter break, my sister had hacked off the beautiful sleeves. I almost cried. </li>
<li>The summer of 2013, a few weeks before I left for college, I'd purchased an over-priced, black hoodie from Brandy Melville, and I was so pumped to wear it to the airport the day of my flight to NY. I'd packed most of my clothes and searched my wardrobe remnants, but my hoodie was nowhere to be seen. I asked my sister if she'd seen it. "No," she repeated at my numerous suspicions. Unconvinced, I peeked into my sister's closet where she kept her tops. No hoodie. I almost declared my hoodie a lost cause. But then, I looked up at the top shelf of her closet, and beneath crowded paper bags and a large pink robe, was a peep of black. <i>She'd tried to hide it before I left for college so that she could keep it all to herself. </i></li>
<li>When I came home from college this summer, I was excited to wear one of the peach casual dresses I'd left behind. I found it disastrously out of shape, the spandex stretched to the point of no return, <i>as if someone larger than me had worn it and stretched it out. </i></li>
<li>Three days ago, my sister had finished organizing her closet, and I admired the fact that everything was in rainbow order. I flipped through some items and almost rage-quit when I saw <i>my </i>purple cardigan dangling in her closet. <i>The </i>purple cardigan that went missing after I'd brought it back home from college over winter break. </li>
<li>In addition, dangling behind that cardigan was my denim jacket. I told my parents about my sister's thievery, and when they tried to confront my sister, she slammed the door and refused to acknowledge the topic. </li>
<li>Today, I decided to snoop through my sister's closet before I left for NY to see if any of my clothes had "randomly" ended up there. Behind a paper bag on a top shelf were my navy tank top, my polka dot tee, two of my skirts, my dress, and two pairs of my shoes. </li>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05649125903162747554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-955022660258954031.post-11309197396183812052014-08-17T12:25:00.002-07:002014-08-17T12:34:20.289-07:00Supersize vs. Superskinny and the "Fitspo" Phenomenon <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/0lJO20K54rg?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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Though the world has managed to arise to such a high level of technological advancement, so many members of first-world countries remain unable to adequately feed themselves. With the amount of food available to consumers in Great Britain and The United States, it would seem unfathomable that any person with the means to buy sustenance would find herself at a heightened risk of death due to her diet. Nevertheless, a massive statistic of American and British people have an unhealthy and potentially life-threatening relationship with food. Recently, I've been binge-watching a British television series, <i>Supersize vs. Superskinny</i>, on YouTube, and I love how it targets not solely the problems with being overweight, but equally emphasizes the issues of being underweight. The dietitians on the show do a good job of explaining the health-related cons rather than the superficial, aesthetic cons which dominate other wellness shows.<br />
<a 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" 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" /></a> I felt especially impacted by the "superskinny" characters. Aesthetically, their body types mirror the girls in magazines and "fitspo" tumblr posts. <a href="http://jessikneeland.com/fitspo-sucks/">Jessi Keenland's article "5 Reasons Why Fitspo Sucks"</a> defines fitspo as "a popular buzzword short for fitness inspiration, and it's used to inspire and motivate people to be fit and healthy. It usually involves photos of super fit, lean women... or women doing awesome yoga poses in beautiful places. It's kind of like <b>Thinspiration</b>'s healthier and happier big sister. For those of you who aren't familiar with thinspiration, it's typically glamorized photos of dangerously thin girls, often passed as willpower motivation for <i>anorexics</i>." These are girls with coveted "thigh gaps" and "flat stomachs." In contrast to mainstream media's aesthetic attitude toward health, I appreciate how the dietitians on <i>Supersize vs. Superskinny </i>proclaimed, against all ads, that "skinny <span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18.200000762939453px;">≠</span> </span>healthy."<br />
<img src="http://27.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lh3dsvt6Al1qeg9mqo1_500.jpg" height="320" width="222" /><img src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRBCxBEVD6biLG3zH9ph5pNl8A2vYFz6pMtP-On7EeBADdHKnwHhw" /><img src="data:image/jpeg;base64,/9j/4AAQSkZJRgABAQAAAQABAAD/2wCEAAkGBxQTEhQUEhQWFhQXFBQWFxgYGBcaFxgYFxYXGBQVGBcYHSggGBolHBQVITEhJSkrLi4uFx8zODMsNygtLisBCgoKDg0OGhAQGiwkHyQsLCwsLCwsLCwsLCwsLCwsLCwsLCwsLCwsLCwsLCwsLCwsLCwsLCwsLCwsLCwsLCwsLP/AABEIAQMAwgMBIgACEQEDEQH/xAAcAAABBQEBAQAAAAAAAAAAAAADAAECBAUGBwj/xABBEAABAwIDBQQIBAUDBAMBAAABAAIRAyEEEjEFQVFhcROBkaEGIjKxwdHh8BRCUvEHI2JykhWi0jNTssJzguIk/8QAGQEAAwEBAQAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAECAwQF/8QAJhEAAgIBAwQCAgMAAAAAAAAAAAECEQMSITEEE0FRImEUkTLR8P/aAAwDAQACEQMRAD8A9mfEaSoNdH5UE1kz8XAUjDdtfkqe0nANdpO5Tfi7W1WFtHEZjr3LXDjc5GWbIoRBCtNhYlVq1ByVQjdZRe8ld/Z9HB+R73AOplRFMoyUpvCSuo+gBpFMKRVmUg5LssrvIrmgVA4crQpUnu9lswrlLZj5Gaw3rOSUeWaxblwmYYwxU/wpWs+kwERnIGul+ibD4YuNrAFS5RotRdmO6nCTbLY2nRMDMZi1tFTbR5FKLsJRpgaRBUyBwRqVEJntWiXtEN+mVjTCQYiGmpQqUSZSK76fBDFNWyokKXEaYEU0TKEilKkpCskmSU0UdFUxwQDjZWe1hKNSpABZ9tGncZfp4oKtiYcZgItWs0j2Rpr9FWcLDirxwadrYjLOLVPdDMwo1JsoVcPf1bhEbz0TlvBy6FKSe7OVxg1sioWJBqtObOpUDTWimZPHXALs0qQgg8FJ0KIKTlaKjGndGrhKlkdwLt9lk0nkLTo1CV504tM9OEk0WMOAPaAgaFRxNf8A7bRJ3qOJcSIAshUHhqz+zT6LPZF0F7WkwhYtuZoYBcndoj/iVA1+CIyadhJJqiq6n2TdO/cqgpSCZvK08QczCIusmOK6sT1JvycuVaWl4BupKIoGJCMQmkjRaOTRmoRlyVyzioliuG6YsQ5NgoqPBRLUuzVrswnLVLTKTRW7NJWMqSimVaDtppZVdNMJdhyWlmen0U8qWRXHYeEMsVKafBEsbXJX7NNkRi1EpUS7QJuVcgo3wViCodmVfq4RzT8lOkGgesJM8VHdilaL7MpOmZ3YpuwW927Mv5el/gFXdghIvAN9VKzp8lPp2uGZPZo9F8KxWoAGAZHFRZhpTnKMluKEJwexZpVVOgGEm0IDcGYkEIFau5pgrllBX8WdcZOt0W30ZJk2TZct2jquQxnpY/D4nsqzQaboLHi0B1od0M34AcV01LHhwBBkFZp70aONKwtEEm5so4zDNsWnqFF2KCA6rK3i3dowklVMgGIbmmVZY1SFKdy11+zFQ9FdvREnkjNocTHcU78J/X5FS8iKWJlR9TkgmpyVmph/6lHsSjUPSAz8klY7M8ElOorSbIwo1VwNkQVVrYmRwQW4+LarF6mbKol/EZYQcPhhcxPVZ78ZJlTGM8U6aQrTLFbCi0eCM1wAiCehWVWrzpKGQ7cU92t2JUuEaNWqIuwdVVtuAHNVRTdzQ6hi5MAayU0hNmjmm9k7ieOixKu2qdOmalR2Sk3V7pjuAudOqubPx9OvT7TD1G1Wby06a2c03abGxClunRaTaL9Mk8EQCBO9Z/4lzTzTHHOT0snUi45xB4qxUpNIvBWP+NU6eNQ4sFNHPfxG2W00qVRv5aoDv7X28JDR3qxsGlIyOdlg+r37kf0jripSFOPbqM8GnMf/ABSw2GMxoNSeHRcOaU45Y6eTvwxhLBLVwaJ2a4H2rKbMGRq5WvxQRZC7e5I4NESu1h4yplqmWojDCnUVRFjX7rKTsLU3nzlEa/g3zU6NcjWErHRUGCPEIP4e8b1pGoE+Fpi5hPUFGf8A6eUlry1JTrYaUcrW2tLY3qt+MCJVojdTVd1ECJb11XdGEfBxOcr3J/i1L8WhVaLT7IdHeh/hjwKemLDVJFkY5Tbj1SbQPNM6lCWiIdyRof6jKx/SfbFOnRcXHSDlBGZwm8Df9EWF5r/ErCPFdtVzZplgaHD8pBNj42UZI6FaNMcnKVMwdt7erYioXPJyNPqsBOVo/LbQni7U9IC7T+E9N/bVMRmLW9maUD87jcA7jlDZ5Zu5ee0HtL7guEDMDaRM6jQxvXoOxtuGoabaVJtOk1xbAPrZC2JB0BBi15vdcGWdKz0sOPU6PTKu0GOJDTmyw0ni4TI7tOoKA6usXZ7GsYGsADRoArjaq6unTljUjj6qoZXFPgtB0pQhMeFz3pv6TfhKIDINapLWWs0CMzz0zCBxI3StXsYLco4303osxZY5r3MpuLC9sEZph5Am4BEdxiV21Ov2jW1KZzMcAWuGhB0K+eWley/w+xZ/AUZ3GoO4VXwuaME8mvydUslYtHg6MOdOhKt0K0ayqn4tROMC2cG/BgppeTap1m8UdtQLnRixxU248KHiZSyo6RuUqLqcaELBbtGN6MNpc1PbkX3Imr2sblE4qFmHHAob8QOKFjDWjSOLSWT2w4pKtBOsvZkpCA4802Za0YthHkKuabSdPeEWVEuCa2JGFBoUiAoF6iXp7hwRqtbw8ljekmxqddrM5Aa1zTJADGjMC4ukgkkAga6jTVbDqoAkmwXP4raZrWEhnm7ry5LLPNQjcjo6XFPLOonnO0dju7d7KDXPplzgHtFiHZY14RqddeBW76O7JDBUaSTDokOMC12xoCCuigAwk5oE/fevLlnc9qPbj0yxbp7lrZuLpsa1jmuMfmMEnrotihWpuHqweW/wXJ4mplBPDVQGJbGaecrpx9RKKrlHFl6SE5WnTZ0m2Nq0MLTL67gxswBBJceDWi5K8Y9KvSN2Mr5oy0mZhSbEENJF3XPrHK2dwi3E2PTvbDqtRlMPLmN9aCZAcbWPT3rmaWpXT3NSOLtaJUHDl7X6DYcDA4e2rXO/ye53xXiIXt3oBic+z8Of0tcz/B7mjyAVYuSM3BvfhxxHmhuw4Rk0rc5mVzhuaduH5oySLAH+H5phQduIRgq+MxrKTS6o4NA8T0GpSsrYkabxqmNJ3Fc3i/SwvJbRbA/W/Xubu756LJxOOm5quLuZJ7uHDTms5ZKLULO27F3FOuGG0cTuqGN3rH5pJd4nts9H/EDgUxr8j4I1XDtIgHLIF5bmB4QbFVaGy3nWoSBqRE+GVYfmR9HT+K/YPE7SYz2nRygk9YG7ms+vts2yMsbgu4dB81u09g07B738TJbfvj6q7S2LQa0tLS4EG8nMJ1hwuO5Y5Osm/wCNI1h00F/Lc5nCbULjDxHMTCufiG8Uet6Mhp/l1PU3Ndq3lMXCtM2MzKJqtzb7W9+q0wdW91kIz9MtnjMys5jmlpcIII8RC5LZj8r3Mdq0lvhvC7ens5j/AGajd+sRbcYJXL+luzRRLcQx7TcMqAEf/V1jyjwT6mcMsaT3NOg14cnyWzA9qQ4teL7jucNxCOXjKd0IbYrMaR7Tbj4jv+AQqlUNDs5DQRvO/SF5VNOj3pSTiSdcSp4DYVKqypnkTYZTBB1JB7xY21VGnXdGVrZNtbADjzWjsZ+Rz+1cILc14DRl9q55H/au7AkppT/R5XVSbxtw/f8AX+o8s9M8A2hinUm1C/K1skgAgkZspixIBF7a6LJpCy6mpsA4nE16tRzhTdVeWmIe9s+qcpHqiIFxNtAj4LZtAOcDTEM3GS6TaXTqN4iw4LolNJnPDBOStnJwvXP4a4WrTwf8ywe81KY3hha0SeEkEjkVhYP0NpVK7Kmb+VMupxY8mmfZJ1G7dy9C7PgT4q8M4t2jHqcU4bMNKBi8YymJe4AeZ6Denyf1FArYBjzLgHHiQD710a0cmllU+kVPcCTu08zNlRr+lBabMB5SfEnd4LVGyKeuUeAQz6PUDqxvmPcs3KXstRiY7vSx0H1WA3gySAN1t58FzeKe6o8uc8vJ3nyHLou5f6LYc6t/3O+aE/0Sw/6fBx+aTl9lKKOMJyg7gOYPLXfv0Vbt2g8T15rtneiFDi7pmKO30YoZSC5wk3AawgjrYyoaRVHDnarhbNp/Uku0PotQ/U//AAH/ACSU6R7GvUwzyf8AqO52bPuVjDNDeV7esefPmkXc/vwUC4bjI+9xU9iNcGvdZabWEjQjmSRu+iM7EM4DwWeXHUffWCmNQxx81D6aI1lYariPWsABwAARX4gxZZ8/f2FJ7jx81rDDFeCJZGwwrHcdyqbQw4q03Mdo4RO8cD1lOTzSzLZRSMtTOEZVqYSpkfpuPETY9FvsdSqkPtPH796L6RbL/EU/V/6jZLd08WrmNn0i1pGZwIMFpgQd9olcPUR0O0er0ubWqkdPSwFJhJDyJvuVLae1cLRGao+Tu/Mb7oCqYlrBSLn2LbzOvJec7ZxxrPcdw8OnRY4YubNc+VY19nU1vTdmY5aJcN2YgfNYu0/SSpVc0hrKeXQiSeYzWtyjcsOmfFGAkLrUIo4ZZ8j8nd+h23X1sS2k+AC1xETJLRMeAK9EIleZ/wANNll1V2Id7NOWN5vc2/cGn/cF6TmWuOCitkc+bLKb+TG7Ln5fIqXZjn/kfmlKeVdIztkRSMyHvHQj5IlMEfmcesHziUgnlSoxT2K1SfIQVEjU6Jd58/kh67/GT8EDRB9Tl3pi/n118lJzuOXxUC8ER6vdlPhdIdDZ+fkkhZuvi3/kknZFF9ztPn80z3Rp5fsEOCdfDMCq2J2iylAeQJ0BmY46aJjLlS/380FpPP75ysd3pHTmAHW1GvxRKPpBRdZxLYMetPwlFoKZfcXA6Dx+qKenu+aFTrBwBbBGocPopuqGN3+26oRDteadp+youq9Pcm3JsSCOadBHl8FzvpRgY/ns1EdpfUaB3dp06LeBj9/muF/itUqZKABIpFz8w3FwDSyeNs2qzmrVMvHJxlaOc9Jdudt/LYfVbrzPyWCGnXxQQ/dwRqZH3KzjFRVI1lNydsIKO8I1OgXEBo9YkADiSYASbHBdv6A7Caf/AOl4FiRTB0ka1O42HeeCa3Jex1fo7swYagylMkSXEWlzjLu7QDkAtPMhtE9OsqZJ4rS0ZUx8yYPH3Cj3+SQPPx+idhQSeEqQHXyUaV7yFMVAdCD0JHxSbGkSpv338CouqAaujq1w85UxI1npPxm6i/Exq4D+6/uKhlUD7a13AdS4e9Cr1osC12+1Qj4KVXFZvYcwn74XRBTMSac94Pk4GEDK4c77f/8AhJDJPDz+iSqiC1iMSGNzPMAdI7oJJXIbXoU6rzUoH1/zMdMvvuceuifbNWp2h7Q2k5J0jdyCG6mANcxJAHE6aRv0Sky0jIfhsQH5uzcA5osQeJymeOszxRBTruvkJj736ro8HQqQDVJdEFs3cOTnCJ3WKt1MYxl3E8QLbkKFq2Jz8I5vDYbFNLSGOFyIGnWx1XaYdzsgzgZgLxpMcFz+J9JTNqdt2YyY3GIshUvSIEiWgccpLTGvFCcV5B6mdLUde3uUQ462WG30gGYhtIm4HtkzOkD90Ov6TOiWUgP7nSeegHvVOaJUWdGag3geSDjcJSqhoqMa4NcHgGbOEw7XmVjYf0pvD6YneWut4EGfFbragMEGZFo08kJ3wNqjxf0tZGNxH/yk+IB+KzWLqv4mEfiWQ0A9kCTFyS5wvxgNELlKYUPkpcFpgXudNjWtDWiGgAAQIAFgBHReH4dsua0b3AeJA+K9uc4TAd3SEIGTtx9yTncCgh4nf32+CHVphxvnEcCR7imIO147vBEY60/MqrhqLGA5BE69UTNv0TEEOIBsZ77eTgjCrbSfC3cTKD244+RU83A/DzAKBkzidzmP8PionH05j1umR9u8N+KnSxJ/MY77+5UtobUbT1c4kicoANucqRh3YlrvZjlMtPmoCdYn+0DzgrIrekjZMUtLkuAi9horOC2xTrHKQwOiwygA8YcSbotBRckfpd4H5pKq7XRnj9E6uiSliaorDK0gN9psmdbAzp3c0LC4TI8F7w4AgCYj/dok/GdmHMezMxxsAGiP6SNRbjw1UsHsmmIOYHNDiwunoLm8WvyXLDI5M6JQUUT2ltYSGsi5jMYkdCbeSy6mFa7fciYmSeZnU3/dD2t6NOZmfSqnL+glsjfa9/BYrdiYgDMO0AIsQdb8lpJtuiIpJGrWwgvGYDrbwPwVOpQLS12YQDv1M3kcEJuCq3zPqSdZJ90ItLYdR+pgf3EnwHcnGLYm0i1TgnLYzEbswPXT6oWJqFsF1M+q3dcWtNgbWKzTVe2Q+kZB3EaieKentch3rNcLfptzmOKQy6MSHElrHZjpAJvIm0aLqdgmqKUVm5YccoIvl1Fgee9A2YGZGvFi5oOnEDW3zWgMQ0XcZ8PiJW0YeTKUvBxf8UqEHDvAbcVGkjWxYWz4uXCNK9C/iHQp1KDarD61N0RuipANosZDfNedylJbjjwaexWl2IoNGprUv/ME+QK9sIEb++fiV4x6J1MuMwxP/db4u9UeZXsxqcvD6KCh293QFLIN4HgE4+9Unm1tY4T7kWFAqmXgf8T8kmsP5TPXMO6JUS47gNeamG8ZHjCuyWhGk86xHKAe+UmUecHm0f8Arqp9tG+RzU2Ypu/5JNsVIj2VtIO+1u8G/mFzm3fR+o5+enawkRHe03XStrNdNz5+8D4odVp3CRxM/Ayk2VRweO2VWabl+mpaffeQp7K2GX3L7DWL+YBhdu3Bg6xPGXT4EI76UQYJA3gA+7RKlY9zEGAH6n/5/RMtXP8AcpJk0cNWxznOmrTdMHS+/vk/IItHGNIAktm8m/QCPZM+Pct0UmZSCLnujmL6rOxGyWagF54Ex5ysNFLY6Ne+5ZbtRkNpu9Y2trcRmIB0Fz4K1WqUm+s2AD1HLuVXBnsh6tEknU5mggdZKtnF0B7b2B0eySDHfuWuP4rdmc0nwiD8XTgXGn6m385UXY1rQfVIsdIvCm91Fws5sf0gcOO9cttYOD57XO2RYti17Zx6schC01mek0cRVp1Hghrhm5CT81EYVjXCRab2Fuvh5rIw1YNIInMdCT60bo4T14K6dogAZzBtoLDiLnS3vWM5OzWMVRtfjWkw1pyi1nAfDyVihUa4wBB5x4SBquMqbTJJvLeIMaaQi4GvVLm5MwM6mQBfXinGU/InGJsem72twbw43c5gaJ35gfIAleYr0L03Y92EBeZyVGGY1Jln/svPgtG7ISoNhK2SpTcRIbUY6OIa4EjyXrY2rTLoYWt5lp98H4LybCYKpUc3I0mCOQ14ldyGBvAmeFuKljNHG7cqh0NeLb4EHpZCb6QVZmZ7hqoUagJ9b78EenTabQI0k21+96VlIPQ2qX+0QDzge+QrrGkXAvyPyWJWwIBBGnD3/Z4pqtd7dwjmJ8zKakS4nRCu4atI6iR8/NTbiG72/wCPyKx9mbYDrO9R19JDT3ytmnVdNwHcJAjqDCpMTRNuOp/pJ5KP45k6vZwA08yi9i124iOB/dIBg9WC+d53d6AIOc03zk8jA96Kax/q8z7gFUr1WA+qHA+I7pMoTtouAEX5ZTPkpGXO0PEffeksr/Wj9h3ySRYUSNNos2e7wQxh6o/OCP6gZHL1YC0WAb8p6D3qQI3DyU0UZzHOzQ7LEbs0+EfFTfhWG+UC8zJHjCuCZ9kAdb+EJnX080xFOq0Aerr3x5INTAAtgsaZ4yfIhaDmA2M8dTCkxgH7lKhmPS2HRDQCG5h1PvkoNf0eYfZPdBjrr8FvGiw7gm7ECY+viSgDnqOwiNC0d1/NWMJhCx4JIc0czM8A07u9bLWNG8HvHmgNpnNmA8H/AA04pAYvpXUbUwlYBrmluQ+s0j2XtJgnURwXmoXrW129pRrMBEupvAuNS0xuv3LgNg+jzqrgaktp7x+Z3IDcOarV7FpbdI1ti0gygxxNyDEm1yTYdIVt7SBm5xb4xotPE4cZAA0M0ABAmNIHCyDTwNQkECBJ3gjhxRYUZLKpDuF/ctXtPV/YjqPBPU2Q5pzAl3K1uMCN6i0GCC0zF/VOlo0HMpUOx6Fdxe4H8sAd2velXr6zF7J6mzXNgseLx6pIETwJ1VTG0Xj2mnXdeBvnwSf0NBWYU1GEttuN4NtNZnclQwWJAAFQQDYTMbuBHG2iPsVzTmgyCOPDW3eteg1onKBJ11CVsbSMqjTxLHlwqAyPZcIBjkGgA9FoYetX/M1jeQJg/JFa0zObzn3qRzDQZhvOnSwF07Ygv494kNpsAjUmb8NJj6odTab3WENgibgzFyLi3gk+zZLJ0MDiqWNxLoEUnRYyYt3R8kbhsXvxJ35fEplkDbTeLfE/8kyVsKRuiOFk8Arnq7H3hzhpF/rKfDVCwH+YSZk6+F07EdFRbl3kzxKepfdPfCyP9QMCfhfwTHaHHN3b7J2FGk9wboXC8Wvr1Qi8ki/IgmPIFUQ4OEyTyMiOFuKVFgBFzPP7ulY6NYWH1+agQLkSO76Kjnn8xiOCG2v/AFe/6IsKNHD5YNx98QiCo0EC8qlkAObOT7vBCe5xn1rbo3piNDEEgSI8D8FgYD1ajmncSjio6Tcxv18I+KBQBLi4XMO77WUvc1x7Gk99wCHdfoURjmk+2RyIPjyWdQxpmHSJjfJ6q2H72HmRf3BBmaDWyBBlSNLw7kFjnEAx5mO5M6sRx6GExDVsHmvYjpNu5OGOFoBA6g8tyLh6nqyCJ4RHxScJ1lFDBCjAJDQP7Yk+5DfQcRMAndMe9J9I/ldHMR4ILcW9ri3LYCZsCb+B1RsBZpl0XaO+SfddEbUqH2Wt75H1HgmZXzX8JkGeFtUXNOrR4/NAEqlObObPKxQ6lIncB99Ei4RJDh0gjyUW1v0ibTvlAGc/ZlKTLKUze4+SS1M/9I8PqkjcRTnl4CFCoW6kQe74IrGxyTVACN3kgRnhrZggQDxI16WU3MJByuAg8CPM3PVWGUm3zOB+Ck5rRcT5ooZVGFP6uBt9R9ypljgAJ7xfxBRswtb3eKIyo3fY8CUUFgHUHkCSDzgj9ik1gBgx4x71d6KjisPva0A8UUFhK2Ea4XkW1B3IQwgsQ6BEQf3U2ucJnRRL3TYCDxOh6IACaLQZcTv3hHpYQNuDAufHmovbM5m25Hv377JM0GX2ec6b7afugadBHYe2k+SahSLZgGeen1U6RPLqI+/3RiSN4++9AgFKtUBJLco5fJO7F5CLOdmOrQIF95MAKwYIsR996AC1pue6La69UwLNRwgS2e6UEj9JIPUjpYp+2Bt8wngcZ4XKAHp1jvgHSAZ79yj+JvqNPohPAsc9hP3Y/BSYXWiCPd5JAEe5xbudvG7zuEbt3cOt5UWgpOpSmA1SoCZzOB5Ot4KTXuHAg9PgqWLpHRrd+sxHNJgfoQdOU8rygC/2h/QP8voks81av7gT5FJIAj4I+uii6k3UHuKg0TqfIypujc2UCBhgb4feqM2SOCi4ExDRA4nxUXvc1swOth5WTAmGG9x8EJjAdJmTc7u7ggnEH2g7yEa6Jtl1sxcXCDDd0TE3jvQAVgeLtMnSIhv+0W/dWHkkw6I+PBHaAnyzvRQWVnEAwLWt1URUd+m33MpY3B598HdwVYYR4Op7nQfddAFthBvlIUyy0ADl9whNqPmJkfdkLFYoi0CPvigCxSp3vAA7vgFYa4QYKzKryGh5zWG4ePl7lKjXG5xvx07+73JDLNWJsfK/cq9cOJBaXZdYGp5QVI8hx6fMI1Onaev7oADhXXyuvaZsCNNY96uvqNaLx5Kq6o0GDr36fBTAnmOBlMCbqgOoA65YU6TYAiI/p0Vf8NBmPJNUpyIHq9LeSALheBr704fu+/FYjqRHqnM48dPmrNLPoLDvQBfef7ulvmpNj7Cp02u38LH90Kq+s27QHAcfp8kAaBpjmkqQr1eA8HJIAOwqBeZSSQINTKlPxSSTEDqMAuAPBZ1EfzX9WpJJAaGIsxxGoaY8FQovJc6T+n3XSSRLgaLzHm6bOfvvTJIGJt/BMxgMyEkkgKOOqFkFpiTf/KN6uYdgOoF9bJJJDDCkNIEQp5QNBCSSZIIj4olMfD4pJIGGabd6ZzQkkmIGG3TNSSSGM069yI1JJAFdzROg8EkklQj/2Q==" /><br />
Here is why I think fitspo is dumb.<br />
<img height="627" src="https://38.media.tumblr.com/4094e5e08cd005920ff64a4edcf03de3/tumblr_nagtp9nHma1sncyi4o1_500.jpg" width="640" /><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">You cannot tell how healthy a person is based on one's appearance. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span>Yes, there are physical signs of health. I am not denying that signs such as brittle hair and insanely dark under-eye circles could point toward a health-related issue. However, <span style="font-size: large;">skinny<span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18.200000762939453px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18.200000762939453px;">≠</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"> healthy. </span>You cannot definitively tell from a person's appearance whether she eats a balanced diet to achieve their toned physique or whether she starves herself so that her mediocre abs show through a fat-less layer of skin.<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Our image-induced culture is pushing girls toward the idea that skinny = healthy, an analogy that is not necessarily true. There is no mold for a healthy person. Healthy people come in all shapes and sizes. Thigh gaps are rarely healthy, and many girls cannot accept that fact that their bone structure does not healthily allow the "tumblr girl look."<br />
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" 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" /></a> Instead of pushing toward a "fit look," I wish fitspo would abolish these "skinny" ideals and aim toward "healthy" ideals instead. There should be more education about how to nourish a body than shape it.<br />
And let's get real about the fitspo posts that are just images of fruits and juices. I am not a nutritionist, but I do not think a body can live on fruits alone. Sure, you achieve your daily fruit serving a crap ton of vitamins, fiber, and anti-oxidants (yay!) ...but proteins, omega-3's! BRAIN FOODS!!! I'm kind of worried that if so many girl's asses start shrinking because of fitspo, their brains will end up doing the same.<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05649125903162747554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-955022660258954031.post-77407202161371329012014-08-17T11:28:00.003-07:002014-08-17T11:33:21.465-07:00Home for the Homeless The light turned red, so I drove up to the crosswalk. I had the windows down, and country music lightly floated out from my tiny red sporty car and into the urban environment. On the meridian on my left<span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18.200000762939453px;">—</span> an elevated strip of packed dirt supporting a row of drought-dry trees which somehow still managed to provide a canopy of shade with their sun-bleached leaves<span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18.200000762939453px;">—</span> a tan, white woman in her mid-thirties, a magenta tank top, loose shorts, and flip flops, casually held up a rectangle of cardboard with the words: <b>Need money. I live on the streets. </b>She wore her semi-disheveled dark hair in a pony tail. She wasn't pitiful or downcast, but pretty much nonchalant like a person spacing out while waiting in line at the grocery store. My mom, sitting in the passenger seat, handed me a twenty. "I don't have any ones," she shrugged.<br />
I drew my hand out the window, and the woman turned toward me with a thankful expression. When she looked at the bill now in her hand, she let out an audible gasp. "Are ya kidding?" she replied. "I just started! And I already got a twen-y?"<br />
"Today's your lucky day, I guess," I conversed.<br />
She beamed and put the bill in her pocket, laughing. "I guess it is!" She rested her hand over her heart. "Oh, thank God! This is going to last me a while!" The light was still red, so the woman and I exchanged kind of awkward but casual small talk.<br />
"I hope you don't get too hot out here!" I said. It was eighty-something degrees outside.<br />
"Nah, it's shady here! That's why I picked this spot." The light turned green and my mom nudged me to get my attention back on the road.<br />
"Bye!"<br />
Continuing on the same road, I passed by two more homeless citizens, an African-American man in camouflage pants with an American flag by his side with a sign which read: <b>Veteran</b>, and a white man with a grey, straggly beard sitting dangerously close to oncoming traffic on a median covered with cobble stones, and banging his fist in the air in a schizophrenic-manner. Each one of them made a home in the middle of the road, their roofs the sky, their floors a median.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05649125903162747554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-955022660258954031.post-12362719450313501752014-08-15T14:19:00.000-07:002014-08-17T12:36:59.910-07:00My First-Year College Experience in Thirteen Journal Entries <span style="font-family: inherit;">ONE</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">August 30, 2013</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> It's 9:39 pm on a Friday night, and I'm all alone in my dorm room. Chloe, my roommate, just left for a party. Sometimes, I feel as if I should be partying too, but then I remember that there'll be plenty more parties in the future (: preferably ones where my best friends are also invited.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">TWO</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">September 1, 2013</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Cindy told us last night over dinner that we should do something fun on Saturday (in addition to studying) instead of studying all day. So, we all (once Andy finally came to our breakfast time brunch, at like, 10 am) decided that we'd go into town for ice cream and hit up the Farmer's Market.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Around 11, Cindy, Amanda, OT, Michael C., Andy, Gian, and I headed down the hill. We sang on the way, of course, and OT made her first dandelion wish. We saw Angela, who was on her way to Perry's along the way. She was wearing a pretty corally pink top.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> At the Farmer's Market, I wandered away from the group so I could look at all the earrings! And pendants! And sniff the organic oil candles (Lilly of the Valley is beautiful), and I tried homemade goat cheese. I felt bad not buying anything, but I don't have a fridge.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Later, we went to get ice cream from the grocery store, and I got this giant McFlurry that I couldn't finish and everyone got scoops except Amanda who got a small pie, Michael since he doesn't like sweets, and Gian who opted for yogurt (healthy child).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Walking back up the hill, we saw some leaves fall, and I thought it was really cute (actual seasons!) and Michael asked if I was really 18. He says I look 15-16 or something, but it's "cute." Okay, thanks.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Then, I wrote the 'Anti-Convocation Letter' with Amanda and Andy at Case Library. We were upset by the overly-religiousness of a supposedly inclusive welcome ceremony. Afterward, I went back to my room and studied in there with Chloe for a while. I'm glad we're both music studiers, because I like blasting Classical when I work.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Then, we had dinner at Franks in this big Asian/International group. Nick and Jade really wanted to go do something tonight, but my group had to study first though.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Gian, OT, Amanda, and Andy were there at Case with me, and so was Ali. Ali said, "I've always been the good boy, but I thought I'd be partying on Saturday nights. But I'm at the library instead." When the rest of us went to have a late-night karaoke sesh, Ali denied our invite since he'd rather go "out."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Jade, Andy, Gian, Nick, Amanda, OT, Mezmur, AB, and Katelyn (from Gate House) did karaoke. And then, we watched <i>Mulan</i> and sang along to "Girl Worth Fighting For." I fell asleep at some point and my friends didn't draw on my face. They did take pics of me asleep on the couch though. Thanks, friends.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">THREE</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">September 7, 2013</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> So anyway, Saturday went like this: I woke up at 8:30 am to have brunch with Amanda, OT, Flora, Andy, Cindy, and Gian (who was late because he had to poop -.-). Then we went to the Farmer's Market! It was gorgeous outside, and I got to eat ground cherries for the first time. Flora shared her Macintosh apples with everyone (Andy didn't really like them because they were kind of bitter). I bought fish earrings and a cool hand-molded ring, and then, we went for ice cream at Maxwell's. I got chocolate coconut. But the whole time, I was feeling really depressed :( I started trailing behind, and Andy kept my pace. Amanda and the others were going to buy organic hot sauce, but I just couldn't resist the urge to cry anymore. So, I told Andy that I was going to head back to school early. "I'll walk you there," he insisted.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> "Me too," Gian added.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> I guess I was sad because I was jealous that Gian and Andy both got into the Mantiphondrakes (an a capella group), and I didn't. And I was upset that no one would go to an actual party with me because Gian kept convincing everyone to go to a 'karaoke party' at Gate House instead. I didn't want to sing karaoke because my singing spirit had been crushed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> We walked up the hill together, silent for a long stretch until I said some small-talky things. I don't even remember what, but we started laughing again, and took lots of breaks from walking on the incline. Andy decided we could go to the counselor if I was still feeling down. We checked if he/she was there, but no one was there, so we walked to the Edge for lunch. That was closed, too. So, we decided to just sit on the cement walk-way for a while, surrounded by concrete rocks. We talked about kissing. Andy liked my slug analogy about tonguing (which I stole from the book <i>How to Be a Person</i>). Later, we ate at Franks, and I chilled at Curtis in Andy's room. When we went back to the counseling building, the counselor was still M.I.A. so we just went to study at the Ho Science Center and Cooley library. Later, we had dinner at Franks. Isabel told me about a Caribbean party there. Gian, Andy, and Amanda (especially after the Chamber Orchestra pub incident) hate 'party parties,' and declined the invite.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> After dinner, Amanda and I went out in the drizzle to the first football game. It was against Syracuse. On our way to get jackets, I asked Cindy if she wanted to come along. We pretended to be drunk on the way there. #Pregaming. Amanda didn't walk in a straight line, and I said, "AHAHAHA THE TREES ARE DANCING!" Then, when we were approaching the field, we saw our friend Nick coming toward us, and he decided to join us to watch the half-time show. We sat on the damp bleachers. I can't watch football like a competent human being. Every time someone fumbles, I die with laughter. When one football player just fell over, I lost it. At one point, I ended up unintentionally cheering for the wrong side.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> After a not-a-half-time show of baby footballers doing jumping jacks, too-short-skirted baby cheerleaders, and a lot of incorrect flag holding (according to our ex-color guard, Amanda), we took Nick to Franks for a late dinner. He opted for 2 burgers. I just got some tea. Then, we played the story game (which I finally know involves people just making it up as they go along), and Angela gave up because it was too sexual.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Then, we had a spontaneous 'Mean Girls' party (well a good 30 minutes after Gian texted "Gate House now!") with Andy, Nick, Andy, OT, and <i>Andy's Indian friend. </i></span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">**author's note:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">AHAHAHAHAHAHA OH MAN I cannot believe I actually wrote that phrase in my journal. If you did not put the pieces together, I am currently dating 'Andy's Indian friend' who is not actually Indian but Bangladeshi.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Then, right at the best part (the Mathletes competition), Cindy, Nick, and I had to leave to change for the black-and-white dress code of the La Casa party. La Casa was so hot and had nothing to drink! But the black light was cool, and they played Miley Cyrus. We met up with Amanda there and danced in an awkward clump like non-horny people while everyone around us was twerking or grinding. Later, we went party hunting via "following the scantily clad women." We were unsuccessful, but it was definitely a bonding experience.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">FOUR</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">September 19, 2013</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Happy Moon Festival! Paul, Andy, Cindy, OT, Amanda, and I realized we were real friends now because we discussed each other's financial aids and sexual statuses while watching the full moon.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">FIVE</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">September 28, 2013</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> I like how Gian was the first person to run away from the graveyard since he was the one with the flashlight. So, my friends and I were taking our nightly graveyard adventure. The feeble street lamps illuminated the tree-lined paved pathway between the hill leading down toward the dining hall and the hill leading up toward more forest. If you continued up this slope, you'd reach the graveyard with tall tombstones, and that's where we were headed. The stars dangled in the sky, barely visible through the openings in the trees. Gian used his smartphone as a flashlight, and we were all trying hard not to be the last one in our clump. (That's the person who dies first!) Suddenly, an old woman wearing scrubs came jogging past us. She whispered, "I don't believe in ghosts" before disappearing into the darkness beyond the graveyard. Cue us running away screaming.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Our theories:</span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">The old woman= magic + lives in woods</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Person on the left dies first (not sure if that means my left or the murderer's left. Better stay in the middle)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">The lady was trying to get us to follow her by being nice</span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">SIX</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">September 29, 2013</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> So, today was a crazy Saturday. It was really fun because I got to spend like the whole day with friends, but I'm seriously so fucked this week when it comes to homework. As Nick puts it, "There's so much crap to do and so little time."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> (Can't write much because I'm hoping to catch Cindy at Franks for breakfast tomorrow, and it's hella late.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">9 am: Brunch</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">10-12 pm: Farmer's Market with Adib, Amanda, OT, Cindy, Andy</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">~we read a discounted horoscope book in the Children's section of the bookstore; Cindy and I are a 9/10 for passion compatibility.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">1 pm: Cooping with Amanda, OT, Andy, Adib, Cindy, and Gian</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">2-3:30 pm: Homework and Elvis (on Spotify) in the Coop Computer Lab with Gian</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">4-4:30 pm: Ballet Practice for Nutcracker Snowflakes</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">5:30-8 pm: OT's birthday dinner at La Iguana</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">8-9:30 pm: Chillin' at Paul and Nick's with Cindy</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">10-11 pm: Korean Student Association party in Asia House basement</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> So, my first party (besides the twenty minutes I spent at a 'Welcome International Students' party before school started)... I met an upper-classman girl who was kind of tipsy and gave me, Cindy, and Nick advice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> "I just started partying last semester. There are so many freshman who think they need to party every night and only look cool with a drink in hand. There are so many ways to have fun in a sober environment-- my roommate and I would go downtown for dinner, check the music scene at the Barge, and watch movies in our dorm! I came from not drinking at high school to coming to Colgate and seeing the party scene. I was shocked." I was excited to find someone who felt as shocked by the party scene as I was.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Then, a guy Cindy knew came over. He'd taken ten shots but swore that he was sober, "I could talk to the president right now! Obama would think I was sober. I'm so much more down-to-Earth when I'm drunk."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Nick insisted I eat Tortilla chips, but they were weird and limey. I kept getting peer pressured to play beer games. Cindy, Nick, and I played slap cup. I'm apparently really good at it. (I did get it in the King Cup once, but the cute Korean upperclassmen were like, "Give her a chance!" and a bearded guy drank for me).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> On the way back up the hill, I remember reciting some Middle English from the <i>Canterbury Tales </i>and telling anyone within a ten foot radius about everything we were learning in Biology 211. Ali ran into me, Cindy, and Nick on the way and said, "You're so cute when you're drunk!" I tried to articulate the genre of his pants. You know, he always wears such fascinating pants. He said something like, "I want to be the very best," so Nick and I burst into a loud, drunken, screamy rendition of the <i>Pokemon</i> theme song. Nick was holding me up by the way. He and Cindy are the best!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Then, after eating the rest of my La Iguana left-over burrito at the Coop, Paul said the greatest thing to my cnidarian babble. (Cnidarian is the jellyfish phylum!) "That's so intere<i>sting</i>." Then, I told him he was the funniest person in the <u>whole</u> world. And the world is BIG. Gargantuan. And insects are the most abundant species of all animals.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> I crashed in Nick's bed and he put a blanket over me and whispered to Paul about whether he should wake me up and have me take my shoes off. Paul replied, "Eh, I've slept with my shoes on before. It doesn't hurt." Nick tucked me in. I randomly woke up later, and Nick and Paul were still up because, you know, they're awake at 2 am, and we found <i>White Chicks</i> on their TV, and Nick told me about his dog Keela and his "Perfect Waffle" recipe.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<ol>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Warm a cut banana for 15 seconds #caramelized </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Add chocolate chips </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Add honey</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Mix everything together</span></li>
</ol>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">SEVEN</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">November 16th, 2013</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-11b50a8e-daee-15e5-7f64-e01ab3435e77"><br /></span>
</span><br />
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-11b50a8e-daee-15e5-7f64-e01ab3435e77" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Last night was really fun c: </span><span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">We walked downtown to the Manti concert at the Barge (Adib, OT, Amanda, Cindy), and we met up with Nicky and Paul there! When we were walking, </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-11b50a8e-daee-15e5-7f64-e01ab3435e77">
</span>
</span><br />
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-11b50a8e-daee-15e5-7f64-e01ab3435e77"><span style="font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Gian asked, “Are those drunk people?” *cue the obnoxious singing girls*</span></span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-11b50a8e-daee-15e5-7f64-e01ab3435e77" style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<br />
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-11b50a8e-daee-15e5-7f64-e01ab3435e77"><span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"> "Yep!" I replied.</span></span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-11b50a8e-daee-15e5-7f64-e01ab3435e77" style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<br />
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-11b50a8e-daee-15e5-7f64-e01ab3435e77" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Gian said, “OhmyGod. We</span><span style="font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> do</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> sound drunk all the time.” </span></span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-11b50a8e-daee-15e5-7f64-e01ab3435e77" style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Then, we all Cooped it up (Amanda and Adib stayed at a comedy show for a while. I SHIP IT!), and played Mafia! Andy’s the most morbid story-telling dude ever. And my boyf killed me once >_< and then, the murder was Adweeb! odioahpfsajfdalkfda And Nick wins the award for “Most Lynched” x)</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">EIGHT</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">November 22nd, 2013</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b id="docs-internal-guid-11b50a8e-dae7-d076-b22c-c19b3c8a6815" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> This week has seriously been the longest week of my life. </span><span style="line-height: 1.15; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ve realized that, while at Colgate, I’ve gone the longest times without feeling depressed than I have in </span><span style="font-style: italic; line-height: 1.15; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">years</span><span style="line-height: 1.15; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. </span><span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">Even though the workload’s more stressful, I feel more at peace with myself and the decisions I make. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I went to my morning classes today, and then, went straight to East to take a nap. I had this weird dream where I was exploring campus and facebook-stalking people and then, I found this secret part of East/West hall with red carpets and staircases and fancy tables-- it was this secret study room! It was so exciting. But I was late to lunch rush with my Boyf D: So, when my alarm when off, I rushed to Frank.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"> After eating with Cindy, Gian, Emily, Ali, Andy, Angela, and Nick, Cindy, Gian, Angela, and I went to East and then sat outside Cindy’s door and just played Uno and sang childhood theme songs loudly and obnoxiously. “F is for frolick through all the flowers, U is ukelele, N is for nose picking, sharing gum and sand-licking here with my best buddy.” Gian and I went to OT’s and Amanda’s while Cindy was packing later, and then Adweeb came and we tried to find an online Secret Santa present for Paul. And then, we visited Andy at work. There was <i>no one </i>at the library, so we played with the rolley chairs and sang. At 4, Cindy and I sent OT and Amanda off on their bus to Boston. And at 4:30, Gian came and we sent off Cindy to Connecticut. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Then, Gian and I trolled the library before we met up with Andy, Adib, Nick, Emily, Charlie, and Xintao to walk over to the Racist White-people church (they're not purposefully racist,I think. They're just kinda ignorant, and they totally mean well.) And then, we ate a Thanksgiving dinner! We had turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, squash, corn, breads, pies (apple, sweet potato, pumpkin), pecan bars, and etc. Nick and I talked about Thanksgiving. I told him that he has side burns and he said that my observations are “hot” xD “But like, it’s interesting! You’re the only person to point that out.” </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> But after the dinner, Nick and I got in an argument about butch lesbians. He think’s they’re scary and something’s “off” about transgender people. According to him, they should be happy with who they are and what God gave them. “It’s religious.” </span><span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">But no, it’s not. Andy was very cool about the subject, asking Nick for alternatives to surgery (which Nick deems “artificial”), and told Nick about the emotions that make becoming transgender an attractive solution to many individuals. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> But I wasn’t cool. I got very angry. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I left the group. We were all supposed to get a pizza since someone won one from the International Dinner raffle. I started walking up the hill alone in the snow, but Ali came after me. Ali said, “You know Nick isn’t the kind of person to judge people and hate them for something…” Our conversation turned deep and we bonded over the idea of '</span><span style="line-height: 18.399999618530273px; white-space: pre-wrap;">soul mates</span><span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">.' Then, in West Hall, I used the men’s bathroom which has very nice tile-work, and Ali let me draw and listen to Mumford and Sons, Ingrid Michelson, and Jesse McCartney. In an hour, everyone else came into the room with left over pizza. I realized I'd cooled down, so when Nick came through the door, we hugged. I told him I was sorry.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">NINE</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">February 22nd, 2014</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> It's Saturday morning. I'm in my secret spot in the Ho Science Center. I don’t think I can wholeheartedly consider myself a depressed person. I have a kind family and friends. I’m studying at one of the best liberal arts universities in the nation on an almost full ride. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> And I hate everything.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> My friends take care of me. And I get to learn every day.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> And I want to drown myself under the ice of Taylor Lake.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> No. Don’t try to help me. Not when I’m like this. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Don’t look at me that way. With those eyes. Your eyes scream “EVERYTHING WILL BE ALRIGHT. I’M OKAY. I GET MYSELF TO KEEP ON LIVING EVERYDAY. WHY CAN’T YOU? WHY? WHY?”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Stop it. I’m okay now. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> No I’m not. You know what this feels like?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> It feels like everything. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Being depressed is not identical to being sad.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> It’s being so happy and then so, inexorably sad, that the contrast is enough to </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">kill </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">you. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> It’s about forgetting what it means to be yourself, and you're no longer in control of the emotions. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s all about feeling and wanting to just </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">not</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> feel like:</span></span></div>
<ul style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">the world is dark; it’s like an eternal storm of suffocation. Overcast, and you’re waiting for the sun to shine through. But it never does, so you DIE inside.</span></div>
</li>
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">you’re trying to run away on icy ground, but you can’t run because the only thing to catch you is solidified water, as frozen and unemotional as you are shaking with fear and being slammed by torrents of unpredictable sadness </span></div>
</li>
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">the top of the well is above you, but as you try to climb out, it grows taller and taller until you can’t even see the light anymore</span></div>
</li>
<li dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; list-style-type: disc; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">you’ve lost hope</span></div>
</li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ever feel this way?</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ever feel this way… and resist?</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Resist! Resist! Resist!</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Worse things have happened to other people. What make you think, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">you</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">- some well-to-do American adult who has never truly experienced the world’s horrors in your tiny microcosm of a world, deserve to be sad. Because you don’t deserve to feel this way.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s WRONG to feel this way.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">To feel so intensely. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Stop it. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You’re being silly.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Foolish.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Unacceptably ungrateful.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fuck you, depressed kid. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There’s no where to run.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The world is judging you. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Face it or…</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">No, there’s no or. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You have to be acceptable to society. For the love of God, SMILE! It’ll make you feel better. Even better, it’ll make other people feel better. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Feel.. better. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As opposed to feeling worse- as in, having an incorrect way of going about expressing themselves. Normalcy… </span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That’s it. Feel.. normal. Feel normally.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Take some PILLS.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Let them FUCK with your emotions so your high-strung, sensitive mother fuckers will calm down. Let the drugs rape my senses. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">No, no thank you, doctor, I’m fine. Please, don’t look at me that way. See, I’m following your guidelines. I called my parents, and you know what they said?</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Don’t make a scene. What are you doing? </span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Be in control. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Control your emotions.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Don’t draw attention for yourself this way.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Why would you do that?</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You’re not sad.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We did not raise a sad child. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You’re strong.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And the more I try to conceal my pain, the more it leaks out. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Until I have to SCREAM in the middle of a sunny day… outside in the quad.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Where everyone can see me.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Everyone can see there’s something wrong.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There’s something wrong with her.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She’s crazy.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She’s not like us. She can’t control her emotions. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She’s…. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">depressed.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I don’t know why she wants to go. She’s smart, pretty, loved.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She’s unstable. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She wants to go now. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You know, we’re all made of dust. Tiny specks. Star particles from the universe. Sometimes, I want to go back to how existence felt before: emotionless and explorative. I want to wander through the galaxies and not worry about… anything. And not care. And just live weightlessly. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So, I’ll do something creative with my death. I don’t want to be another pill girl or rope girl or… that sounds horrible. Those people killed themselves. Oh, but they were so uncreative! When I go, I’m going to make it look like an accident. That way, they won’t remember me as a girl who was suicidal, but a girl who… accidentally fell into a frozen lake. She was running… running away on a day when it had just rained after weeks of snow. So, the ground was frozen. And she was sprinting too fast. Just for fun, just to live and feel the adrenaline and the wind chill frosting her face. Then, suddenly, she slips and slides down a slope of Willow Path into the lake. Crashes right through the ice. It’s too late for anyone to rescue her! And the water drowns her sadness.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Until… </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">a gloved hand finds hers. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She takes another breath.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m too proud to admit I need help.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But I </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">do. I do need help</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">TEN</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">March 8th, 2014</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> So yesterday morning, Chloe asked if she could have the room for herself that night, and being the decent roommate I am, I agreed to her request nonchalantly, because why not? Adib said I could crash at his place whenever on the weekend, and that was the plan.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> A British indie-rock band, SPLASHH, was coming to Colgate to play at Donovan's Pub last night. A few of my friends had organized the event, and watching live music's like, my favorite thing ever, so I decided to go. The opening guys were from the Hamilton, New York area. They had a chill sound. I actually liked them better than the main act. But that's probably because halfway through the first band's set, I started getting the WORST stomach cramps I've ever had. I assumed they were menstrual cramps. My period's not regular, so even though it's only been two weeks since my last ride on the crimson wave, I didn't think much of it. I didn't feel well enough to stand up with the rest of the audience, though, so I sat on this comfy love-seat at the back of the pub. I writhed around, trying to find a sitting position that didn't make my stomach feel twisted. Nothing I did made a difference, so I walked up to the bar counter and asked for a water. The bartender was awesome and even gave me a bendy straw. I kept sipping when all of a sudden, I couldn't take the pain anymore. I've never had such bad cramps and started getting worried. I awkwardly sat in the bathroom, the music faintly audible through the thick, cement walls. I hated missing the concert, and I then, I felt so sick I could've thrown up. But I never throw up. I hadn't thrown up since I was 8. But all of a sudden, I wretched out my dinner. A thick puddle of eggs and rice swam in the toilet. And I vomited more. And once more after that. (TMI. I know. I'm sorry.)</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> You know how I said I'd crash at Adib's place that night? Well, he has a roommate who usually doesn't mind if I stay over. But I think he would mind if I vomited the whole time. I told my friend, Claire, that I'd be leaving because I wasn't feeling well. I told her I'd thrown up after having cramps, and she said, "Oh no! That's what happened to me, too, but I just thought it was abdominal pain or something. And then I started vomiting, and I haven't vomited since I was little, too. Just go to the bottom floor of East, buy a Gatorade, and stand by a garbage can." (Gatorade because a lack of appetite leads to a loss of electrolytes.) I was hoping to just go back to my dorm, but Chloe had reserved the room, plus I'd left all of my shit (dorm key, backpack, etc.) at Adib's in the afternoon. He was currently at a movie screening for the Muslim Student Association. I awkwardly called him up, and he said he'd come get me. "No no no! I can meet you at the chapel." I really wanted to start heading up before I felt the urge to puke again. I started the hike back up the hill and called him to say I was coming. We awkwardly met up at the stairs. I was crying like an idiot because the pain was unbearable.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> He brought me to Alumni (a class building on the way to my dorm) so he could run to his dorm on the opposite side of campus to get all my stuff. We were hoping to ask Cindy if I could crash at her place. She has a single and was planning to sleep over at Amanda's anyway. However, Cindy wasn't picking up her phone because she was watching <i>The Hobbit</i>. So by the time Adib came back, I was talking to my mom on the phone because I didn't know what to do. She didn't know what to do either and gave my phone to my sister who wanted to talk to me. My sister was asking me questions about AP Bio and couldn't comprehend my answers because I was simultaneously dry-heaving into a garbage can. After that conversation ended, Adib and I went over to my dorm. We stumbled across Angela, Gian, Andy, and Izzie. They were planning to watch a movie when I showed up looking like I was about to die. Angela invited me to stay over at her room. "Honey, I'll get you some hot water. You can stay at my room."</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> "You're like a mom," I drowsily told her.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> "Do you have Ebola?" Izzie asked. "Because then your insides would be liquefied."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> "And then we'd catch it and die in a week," Andy added.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> "Not even a week. Two days," Izzie retorted.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> "Oh my god, guys," Gian gasped. But I thought their whole conversation was hilarious. Then, Ryan who lives on the second floor came over.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> "What's wrong?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> "I have Ebola," I replied. In truth, I had the norovirus aka The Stomach Bug that just made it's round through Colgate. I always get sick at the end of Colgate's endemics.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> I awkwardly climbed up four flights of stairs to Angela's room. "Honey, take off your pants-- jeans are restricting. And take of your shirt while you're at it." Adib was awkwardly there and turned around. Angela tossed a giant tie-dye shirt for me to wear. I stripped, put it on, and crawled under her sheets. She got upset because I was laying down the wrong way and turned me around. Then, she rubbed my stomach, went to get me water, and had Adib take her place. Stomach rubs are the best. I was totally dying and crying, and Angela awkwardly said that I couldn't stay over with her because she was worried her roommate wouldn't want me there. So, Adib tried once again to call Cindy. Cindy said the movie was done, and then, gave the phone to Amanda who started panicking as Adib told her my diagnosis. Amanda called her roommate, OT, to ask if I could sleep in her bed for the night. OT kindly agreed as she was spending the night elsewhere anyway. Jason, Amanda, and Cindy all came over to Angela's to transfer me to Amanda's roommate's bed. Jason poured some water "Sorry if it's tea flavored" into my (Angela's) mug. "This tastes like tea," I replied tiredly. And soon, I was helped into the room across the hall. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> I was given Amanda's "period pants" which are 10 sizes too big for the both of us (because OT believes one should wear "bed pants" to bed) and placed under three blankets and a giant purple comforter. A black trash can was placed by my head, and I felt like I was about to die.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Adib stayed for while, but had to leave around 12:30 am because he had shit ton of studying to do the next morning. Amanda comforted me and Cindy slept over, too. I slept on my back to avoid twisting my stomach and dreamt about boats.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> I was out until 8 in the morning, went back to sleep, and woke up with Cindy telling me that OT and her boyfriend, Kyle, had brought some orange PowerAde from the dining hall. I went to the dining hall with Cindy at around 10 am and couldn't eat my chocolate chip pancakes. I went back to sleep on OT's comfy bed and couldn't do things.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Around lunch time, Cindy and Adib brought me lunch that I couldn't eat. It was a veggie burger, and Amanda proclaimed that vegetables when sick is a bad idea. I did eat a banana though. It was a struggle. Amanda coxed me to help me through the endeavor. "JUST ONE MORE BITE! ONLY A FOURTH OF THE WAY MORE! FINAL STRETCH! YOU CAN DO IT!" I wanted to laugh and vomit at the same time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Adib and Cindy were worried about my not-eating the veggie burger. Amanda told us about the "BRAT diet": Bread, Rice, Apple Sauce, and Toast. So Cindy and Adib ran to the dining hall. Adib made me a diluted PowerAde solution and buttered toast. Meanwhile, Amanda told me an awesome bed time story.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> "Once upon a time, there was a princess named Angel who lived in a castle made of gems and jewels. But her castle was cold. At her touch, it would take all the heat out of her hand. She was so sad that she took a hammer and smashed at her castle walls, making many <i>imperfections</i>." I laughed at her attempt to make a Gems joke. "But then, a visitor came to the castle. It was a Bangladeshi man on a horse-"</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> "A cow!" I interjected.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> "A cow. And the cow had a garland of flowers in its horns. He was the most chivalrous and kind Bangladeshi man, and he and Angel had such a great time together. And then, he took... leather from his cow to cover the walls and make them warm, but not the outside so the jewels would still sparkle and the light would shine into the castle."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Now, I'm just kind of in OT and Amanda's room. A while ago, OT, Amanda, Jason, Cindy, and I were all chillin in Amanda's room and listening to Amanda's guilty pleasure playlist. I'm feeling better. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">ELEVEN</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">March 12, 2014</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="line-height: 14.949999809265137px;"> </span><span style="line-height: 1.15;">Pues, mi vida es un </span></span><span style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.15; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">gran desastre</span><span style="line-height: 1.15; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> ahora. Estoy fracasando todas mis clases. Seriosamente. No esta buena para mi ahora. Estoy ahogando debajo mi tarea y no puedo lograr mis metas :c </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-60593795-daf0-db16-2f05-3319985895be"></span><br /></span>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-60593795-daf0-db16-2f05-3319985895be" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mis notas no son buenas ahora. Ai Dios mio! No se que puedo hacer. </span></span></div>
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</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-60593795-daf0-db16-2f05-3319985895be" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hoy, recibí muchas notas de mis profesores. </span></span></div>
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-60593795-daf0-db16-2f05-3319985895be" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">En la clase de historia de arte, recibí un asi asi nota: 87/100, un B+ para mi examen de Mid-term.</span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-60593795-daf0-db16-2f05-3319985895be" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Para la reciente prueba de química, recibí un 81/100 B- (Y sentí muy alegre porque el tiempo pasado, recibí un 76%!) Pues, quimica no esta malo.</span></span></div>
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-60593795-daf0-db16-2f05-3319985895be" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Pero en la clase de joya, FRACASE!!!! Pensaba que hice bien pero QQ 81/100?! WTF. Yo quiero llorar o morir o comer todas los postres del mundo. </span></span></div>
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</span>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-60593795-daf0-db16-2f05-3319985895be" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Y en la clase de retos, recibí un 85/100 para mi papel primer. Me gustaba mi papel :c Adib recibí un mas buena nota para su papel y el no le gustaba su papel. Ughhhh. Que es vida?</span></span></div>
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Sometimes, I journal in Spanish.</span></div>
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> So, my life is a<b> grand disaster</b> right now. I am failing all of my classes. Seriously. It is not good for me right now. I am drowning under my homework, and I can't achieve my goals :c</span></div>
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> My grades are not good right now. Oh my God. I don't know what to do.</span></div>
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Today, I got many grades back from my professors. </span></div>
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> In Art History, I got an okay grade: 87/100, a B+ for my Mid-term exam. </span></div>
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> For the recent Chem Quiz, I got an 81/100 B- (And I felt very happy because last time, I got a 76%!) So, Chem is not bad.</span></div>
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> But in my Gems class, I FAILED!!!! I thought I did well, but QQ 81/100?! WTF. I want to cry or die or eat all of the desserts in the world. </span></div>
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> And in Challenges, I got an 85/100 on my first paper. I liked my paper :c Adib got a better grade on his paper and he didn't like it. Ughhhh. What is life? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">TWELVE</span><br />
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">March 15th, 2014</span><br />
<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><br />
<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I'm in Connecticut! It's Spring Break, so Gian, Andy, Cindy, and I are making dumplings. </span><br />
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<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">THIRTEEN</span><br />
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">April 24th, 2014</span></div>
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<span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Weirdly, I'm not stressed. I'm just excited for Spring Party Weekend even though I have two ten-page papers due and a test tomorrow. Hold on, gotta flip on music. Spotify's blaring "Crystallized" by Young the Giant</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; line-height: 18.200000762939453px;">—</span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> lovin' it. I have an appointment with Janine today. I think of them as "mental check ups." When I came out of East hall, I saw Adib, Cindy, and OT laying on a blanket and enjoying the nice weather. (Finally!) I wanted to stay with them, but I knew I'd feel even better if I went to my therapist appointment. </span><br />
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"> I sat in a large, cushy chair and held a squishy stress ball in my hand. I told her how stressed I was about my upcoming quizzes, essays, and tests that week. </span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">"You can't do everything at once," Janine said. "Take three deep breaths before entering an activity." </span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">I left the therapist building that looks like a house, complete with a charming bathroom, coffee maker, and living room couch. My anxiety began to resurface, but then, I took three breaths. "Inhale- exhale. ONE. Inhale-exhale. TWO. Inhale-exhale. THREE."</span><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05649125903162747554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-955022660258954031.post-52834980842240854922014-08-15T10:06:00.000-07:002014-08-15T15:01:42.287-07:00Home AloneWhen I'm home alone, I open all the blinds to let the sunlight stream in, refrain from changing out of my pajamas, and blast music from my laptop. And yes, mom, I just folded all the laundry. Now, it's time to blog!<br />
<br />
I feel like I'm post spamming, but now's the perfect time to write because when school starts, posts will become way more sporadic.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05649125903162747554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-955022660258954031.post-23239471127503756622014-08-13T23:22:00.000-07:002014-08-15T10:03:06.777-07:00I don't think I should talk about race with my friends anymoreA typical Yogurtland conversation went like this:<br />
"If you could be from any culture, which culture would you choose? You'd still be in the same socio-economic status. This is just about which culture you'd find most interesting."<br />
<br />
"Native American," my white friend replied. "So I could experience that culture and wear headdresses and learn a language without being accused of cultural appropriation."<br />
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And then she added, "but in the real world, because of societal privileges, I'd definitely stay white."<br />
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My half-Scottish, one fourth-Korean, one fourth-Chinese friend replied, "Chinese."<br />
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My other white friend looked at me expectantly, but her expression fell flat at the sight of my apparent lack of enthusiasm about the topic. "You don't seem to like this topic.."<br />
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"You'd want to stay just the way you are," my half-Asian friend casually interjected.<br />
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I nodded.<br />
<br />
The implications of this conversation were stereotypical, shallow, and disappointing. To imply that changing one's culture would boost or lower one's socio-economic status, though a correlation between race and socio-economic status is regrettably apparent in the US, lacked anything beyond a generalized basis; income varies between individuals within any race. The conversation's definition of 'culture' was ambiguous. Naturally, there would appear little more to draw a person to a foreign race or ethnicity than language and traditional clothing. Furthermore, the notion of white superiority dominated the conversation. Though also a prominent concept in our society, the extent to which my friends (all white, though such a bias stems from many in our society regardless of race) insinuated that white is the privileged race surprised me. To be immersed in a foreign culture would be such fun! was the route which, through my eyes, the conversation took. The extent to which individuals within a culture were forced into a shallow notion of what it meant to be "Chinese" or "Native American"-- and naturally, only the appealing cultural qualities of each culture were considered-- was disturbing. "I just want to stop being bashed for 'cultural appropriation!'"= It's so hard being white! As liberals and proponents of diversity and non-racism, I thought they would have approached such a topic with more tact. I understand my friends' will to appreciate and immerse themselves into different cultures, but to diminish an entire world of people, be it the Chinese or Native Americans/Indians/etc. into digestible tablets of novelty and exoticism... ugh. <br />
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<br />
Update**<br />
<br />
My friend notified me of links where other online-folk who expressed on the topic of Cultural Appropriation, and I wanted to share them:<br />
<br />
<div>
Charlotte Olympia's Fall 2014 bags took Asian-inspiration to the literal extreme. </div>
<div>
<ul>
<li><a href="http://tomandlorenzo.com/2014/06/yea-or-nay-charlotte-olympia-fall-2014-bags/">http://tomandlorenzo.com/2014/06/yea-or-nay-charlotte-olympia-fall-2014-bags/</a> </li>
</ul>
</div>
<div>
<img alt="Charlotte-Olympia-Fall-2014-Bags-Accessories-Tom-Lorenzo-Site-TLO (14)" src="http://tomandlorenzo.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/Charlotte-Olympia-Fall-2014-Bags-Accessories-Tom-Lorenzo-Site-TLO-14.jpg" /></div>
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<br />
<header style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #777777; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 3px; padding-right: 46px;"><br /></header><header style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #777777; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 3px; padding-right: 46px;"><span class="post-byline" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small; line-height: normal;">My friend read a comment responding to the photo reel of designer bags (see below) and told me that this commenter and I expressed similar points. I found SayWhaatNow's thoughts insightful, especially regarding the 'right to be fashion forward' and the implied meanings behind culturally-inspired accessories and clothing. SayWhaaatNow took inspiration from the site:</span></span></header><header style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 3px; padding-right: 46px;"><br /></header><header style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 3px; padding-right: 46px;"><ul>
<li><a href="http://sanaahamid.com/Cultural-Appropriation-A-conversation">http://sanaahamid.com/Cultural-Appropriation-A-conversation</a> </li>
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</header><header style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #777777; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 3px; padding-right: 46px;"><span class="post-byline" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small; line-height: normal;"><br /></span></span></header><header style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #777777; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 3px; padding-right: 46px;"><span class="post-byline" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="author publisher-anchor-color" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: 700;"><a data-action="profile" data-role="username" data-user="67351226" href="http://tomandlorenzo.com/2014/06/yea-or-nay-charlotte-olympia-fall-2014-bags/#" style="-webkit-transition: color 0.1s linear; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: rgb(156, 17, 17) !important; font-family: inherit; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; transition: color 0.1s linear;">SayWhaaatNow</a></span> <span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><a class="parent-link" data-role="parent-link" href="http://tomandlorenzo.com/2014/06/yea-or-nay-charlotte-olympia-fall-2014-bags/#comment-1416232111" style="-webkit-transition: color 0.1s linear; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: rgba(0, 39, 59, 0.498039); font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; line-height: 1; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; text-decoration: none; transition: color 0.1s linear;"><i aria-hidden="true" class="icon-forward" style="box-sizing: border-box;" title="in reply to"></i> @Biting Panda</a></span> </span><span class="post-meta" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: inline-block;"><span aria-hidden="true" class="bullet time-ago-bullet" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #cccccc; font-size: 10px; line-height: 1.4; padding: 0px 4px;">•</span> <a class="time-ago" data-role="relative-time" href="http://tomandlorenzo.com/2014/06/yea-or-nay-charlotte-olympia-fall-2014-bags/#comment-1416320819" style="-webkit-transition: color 0.1s linear; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: rgba(0, 39, 59, 0.498039); font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; line-height: 1; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; transition: color 0.1s linear;" title="Monday, June 2, 2014 10:32 AM">2 months ago</a></span></header><br />
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It's a complicated subject and obviously there is no clear-cut answer. I don't see many people sharing my opinion, which is why I'm choosing to share it here, but I do want to say that the following is just my two cents (and I apologize for the length):</div>
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Cultural appropriation is theft of culture, or going into a culture and taking bits and pieces to form a fashion identity or even an identity that goes beyond fashion, without acknowledging the cultural roots and contexts of those pieces, and without regard for the appropriate context within which those pieces are typically placed. Sanaa Hamid did a great photography piece on cultural appropriation <a href="http://sanaahamid.com/Cultural-Appropriation-A-conversation" rel="nofollow" style="-webkit-transition: color 0.1s linear; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: rgb(156, 17, 17) !important; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; transition: color 0.1s linear;">here</a>, which I am going to borrow to illustrate my points:</div>
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Take a look at these two images: <a href="http://payload156.cargocollective.com/1/0/24936/5435807/marie2.jpg" rel="nofollow" style="-webkit-transition: color 0.1s linear; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: rgb(156, 17, 17) !important; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; transition: color 0.1s linear;">Image 1</a>, and <a href="http://payload156.cargocollective.com/1/0/24936/5435807/tashfinal.jpg" rel="nofollow" style="-webkit-transition: color 0.1s linear; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: rgb(156, 17, 17) !important; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; transition: color 0.1s linear;">Image 2</a>. The first woman feels justified in wearing the Christian Cross - it holds no meaning for her, it holds no true value so therefore, how is she mocking it? But the second woman is helpless in this situation, being told that her feelings and the meaning she imbues into that Cross are less valid than someone else's right to be fashion forward.</div>
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That right to be fashion forward is not a privilege that is shared equally. When someone like myself leaves home in a sari or someone of East Asian background leaves home with the bags in the post, those items clearly mark us as "Other" and perhaps even as failures of assimilation. However, when someone who doesn't share the heritage of those items walks out the door, they are immediately perceived as "edgy". There is a huge context and experience of identity here that people of non-Asian heritage lack and probably don't understand.</div>
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It's fine that you admire and feel at peace with Eastern philosophies and art. It's lovely, actually. But it's vital to take history into context and ask yourself if the ethnic group in question would be offended with wearing items that are literal interpretations of another culture, and whether the person profiting from such interpretations belongs to that culture as well. One some level you feel you identify with Eastern philosophies and art and clothing, but do you also identify with the negative aspects of that identity? Have you ever identified with the pain of being marked as "Other"? Have you ever identified fully with both the positive and negative aspects of this particular culture? And if so, does the recognition of that pain inform and bind you more closely to the heritage?</div>
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In appreciating other cultures, we simply cannot take the shiny parts and leave the rest behind. That, in sum, is cultural appropriation.</div>
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I found it interesting that my friends pushed toward being non-white ethnicities for the privilege of wearing things like headdresses without appearing offensive while SayWhaaatNow argued that ethnic groups, especially those still residing in their country of origin, are the groups who live without the 'right to be fashion forward.'</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05649125903162747554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-955022660258954031.post-84707380480245943862014-08-08T14:41:00.000-07:002014-08-08T14:41:42.280-07:00I love you moreeeee So my boyfriend and I were Skyping for a while. After an hour or so, he decided to call it quits for his daily nap.<br />
"How do you say, 'Let's take a nap'?" I asked.<br />
"Ghumate jai."<br />
"Ghumate jai!" I parroted.<br />
"Yeah, yeah! Ghumate ghumate. Nap nap. I love you," he said.<br />
"I love you more!" I replied, hoping to incite an 'I love you' war, ya know, like those ones cute, cheesy couples have.<br />
"I love naps," he replied cheekily, dodging my stalling maneuver. I burst into laughter at his response, not offended he had not said 'I love you <i>more</i>' or 'I love you <i>most</i>' because I already know how much he cares about me. He started laughing too, and after we said "bye" Skype made its familiar 'blooping' sound signaling the call's end.<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05649125903162747554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-955022660258954031.post-27989780239672183092014-08-05T22:57:00.001-07:002014-08-15T14:59:17.323-07:00Birks!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I’m sorry about the horrible camera quality of my Birks! My point-shoot Sony recently died :(</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Anyway, Birkenstocks!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">For those of you who don’t know, Birkenstock is a German shoe company with the motto “Cork. Leather. A buckle or two.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The “Arizona” style in particular has made a revival since Kate Moss rocked them in 1990. (See b&w picture above) In the recent Spring and Summer 2014 seasons, Birks have made into the closets of style bloggers, both men and women alike. [Swiss fashion blogger:<span style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">(<a href="https://www.michaelablog.com/search/label/outfit" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; color: #555555; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">https://www.michaelablog.com/search/label/outfit</a>) Filipino fashion blogger: </span><span style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">(</span><a href="https://lookbook.nu/look/5181000-Versace-Plain-White-Shirt-Birkenstock-Sandal" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; color: #555555; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank" title="Filipino fashion blogger on Lookbook.nu">https://lookbook.nu/look/5181000-Versace-Plain-White-Shirt-Birkenstock-Sandal</a><span style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">).] Birks have become runway appropriate yet maintain an alternative vibe, sneaking their way into Free People </span>cataloge<span style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> spreads. Manrepeller’s Leandra Medine rocks them as well (</span><a href="https://www.manrepeller.com/2013/08/on-ugly-shoes-again.html" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; color: #555555; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">https://www.manrepeller.com/2013/08/on-ugly-shoes-again.html</a>). (I hope these don't totally repel my boyfriend). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I’ve been coveting these “ugly” shoes for a while, hoping to someday earn enough to invest in this rare article of footwear that unites the concepts of fashion and comfort. Birks are wicked expensive, a basic pair running between $89.95 and $130. And, ya know you're mostly paying for the brand. Nevertheless, the quality and comfort of Birkenstocks is undeniable, so I was willing to buy into the hype and try out a pair. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The ones I picked up were the ‘Birkenstock Arizona Soft Footbed Billard Nubuck (Uni-sex).’ Mine are in a size 37 (5.5-6). <a href="https://www.onlineshoes.com/mens-birkenstock-arizona-soft-footbed-billiard-nubuck-p_id329066" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; color: #555555; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">https://www.onlineshoes.com/mens-birkenstock-arizona-soft-footbed-billiard-nubuck-p_id329066</a><u> </u>And I almost died when I found out they were on sale for 62% off at Nordstrom Rack. The only pair of Birks in my size on the sale rack. <strike style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">$129.95</strike> to $49.95. DUDE. I could not not get them. You know if they're on sale and the last pair is in your size, you <i>have </i>to buy them. It's like the universe is willing such an event to occur!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Granted, $50 is still pricey for flats/sandals, but these were so perfect, I decided to invest. I was not even concerned about the color. I will find a way to wear these with everything I own because a) I am determined to get my bang for my buck, b) I want to help make comfort a fashion statement, and c) I just love them. Most people might stare at the "crazy teal ugly sandal things" on my feet and think, "Wow, her outfit could have been so much cuter if she wore a different pair of shoes" (like my sister). But as always, the haters gonna hate. The cashier thought the vivid teal was pretty sweet. "I haven't seen any Birks this color before!" What can I say. I'm an art student-- the kind who barely survives the black&white unit of beginning art. I like myself some color. </span></div>
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