The blessing/curse of Wellesley
I love practically everyone here. 99% of the young women I’ve met are down to earth and extremely likable.
One of the stereotypes of Wellesley is that it is full of rich snobs. This is not true.
I am currently residing in Wellesley’s smallest dorm: Dower House. It’s called a house because it is. There are two stories, and forty people live here. Most of the residents here are first-years. In most of the “college insider books” the segment about Wellesley says that Dower is one of the worst dorms. This is also untrue.
I’ve heard that it really depends on the people: some years Dower is awesome, other years it’s absolutely terrible. This year is definitely in the awesome category. I became really close to the other first years in my dorm within the orientation week. It’s almost scary…we do practically everything together. Some girls in other dorms talk about how they really don’t know most of the people in their dorm…I can’t relate at all. Wellesley is big on their community, and alumnae often refer to the “sisters” that they had during college. This statement, although possibly cheesy, is actually pretty true.
The main problem with this is that most of the people here are East Coasters. Which means that they can go home if they so choose. This weekend is three days, and therefore most of the girls in my dorm are home.
I’ve been hesitant to call Dower “home”, even though some of the girls here openly do. But I realized that Dower really is like my “home away from home”, and it’s been that way for a while now. Admitting that I am already so closely connected to a place and the people in it is actually kind of frightening…because I have been able to quickly break down social barriers, I have also left myself vulnerable. What if “Dower” as an idea means more to me than to others? I know this is not true, but when more than half of the people are gone, it’s easy to question.
Anyway. Back to Arabic homework.
Maybe it just hasn’t hit me yet.
It doesn’t really feel like the end.
I look around at my friends and I know that I’m supposed to miss them when I’m at college. But I don’t think I will…? And that’s not because I hate my friends or whatever. It’s because I know that they are going to have an amazing experience of their own, and that I will be seeing them over Winter Break and Summer after our first year of college, and all that jazz.
To me, this isn’t really the end of anything important. Just high school. Most of the high school experience wasn’t that important to me. Yes, I enjoyed learning, and having some of my teachers, and making such amazing friends. But in college, all of these things are going to expand tenfold. I’m going to be taking awesome classes with amazing instructors and I’ll be meeting so many new friends and having so much go on… it’s going to mindblowingly, ridiculously fantastic.
Leaving high school…I have no sentiments, really. I’ll be seeing the ones who were important to me soon enough. Despite my full-time job, we’re going to spend an ungodly amount of time with each other this summer. We’ll probably be Skyping while we’re away at college. And then we’ll come full circle when we come back to Ventura.
It’s life. Let’s not get all nostalgic when we have so much in front of us.
I’m ready to move on.
Just some trivial updates.
Two things.
First: today I ended up going to the library. This was unexpected. Also, I checked out four books. This was also completely unexpected, because it seems like the last two years I’ve read less due to being in school, having a social life, and so on.
But being at the library, it really reminded me how much I used to read. I was a serious bookworm. Simply the act of going through the shelves brought back so much nostalgia, I couldn’t say no. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to read the four books before the due date, but I’ll try. The only reason it may be possible is because they are due on the 17th of June, which is after Senior checkout. And then after I read those, I’ll read the book Maddie lent me so long ago…hey, it’s a start.
Secondly, and I realize this is really random, but Warped Tour really does get worse every year. I’ve technically only been to one, in 2007. It was ok; I saw Paramore, Cute Is What We Aim For, Anberlin, PlayRadioPlay!, As Cities Burn, Meg and Dia. In other words, bands that are pretty cool, but….definitely not my favorite bands, or incredibly amazing. Last year I only vaguely wanted to go because Relient K was playing, and I love them, but I obviously didn’t love them enough to go out of my way to see them (especially since I was broke at the time).
This year’s line up looks….meh. I recognize some band names, but am only kind of interested with less than a handful: Jeffree Star, Meg and Dia, Streetlight Manifesto, Underoath. Jeffree Star would probably be fun to watch, since he’s one of those off the wall characters, Meg and Dia are pretty safe, but not bad. Streetlight Manifesto is apparently one of the best ska bands ever, and what I’ve heard, I’ve liked. And I’ve guiltily enjoyed my share of Underoath songs.
But the real question is: do I really want to spend $31 to stand outside all day in crowds of Hot Topic scene kids? Also, it’s on a Sunday, so I probably wouldn’t show up until 1 at the earliest. Also, I’m pretty sure most of my friends realized that Warped Tour is lame…two years ago.
Yeah, the chances of me going are rather slim. Sorry, Jeffree Star.
For once in my life
I have things to blog about, but no time to actually do it.
This is usually the exact opposite of my predicament: having nothing to blog about, but having way too much time to waste.
Three things that I want to blog about:
1. The fire in Santa Barbara and my oh so exciting stay at Westmont. I’m not sure if I should make this a narrative, or write it like I would to colleges (I’ve seriously thought about doing so. It’s an interesting experience, and really made me think about mortality and the large contrast between how we lived in that gym for twelve hours and how we would normally have lived. Or something like that).
2. A concert review of Claire Marie, who I was able to see at Mai’s Cafe on Saturday. Also, since I saw the act after her, I guess I can review her too. Except that I definitely liked Claire more, and not just because I know her.
3. Some sort of introspective looking at how I’m getting older (17 on Wednesday) and how I’m trying to improve my habits and way of living. But seriously, this is something that I’ve tried to fix since I realized it was a problem. (“This” being: my exercise habits, my eating habits, my sleeping habits, my study habits. Or, actually, the lack of all of them.) I don’t know, saying to myself “you’re seventeen now, act responsible” seems like it would be more effective than the usual, impersonal “It’s the New Year, act responsible”. And for all my friends, who are all older than me, please don’t burst my idealistic bubble by saying that being seventeen will not suddenly make me responsible. I do realize this, but it doesn’t need to be stated by anyone else but me, aha. (Well, I pretty much got that topic out of the way. I guess now I don’t have to blog about it again, heh.)
And although I never expected to write a blog about this, since it is a rather normal theme in my life, I think I should probably state that my current relationship with academia is: GAH, I HATE YOU.
Anyway. This blog is finished. Good day.
Best quote from the first day of work:
Technically my second, but still.
From one of the many guys who I met, but whose name I cannot remember:
“You’re going to love this job. Love it. It’s going to make you want to get an education so you don’t have to do this for the rest of your life.”
In other news, Michael said that I should write more on my blog. I am honored that someone actually cares/ is interested enough about what I write to tell me this. Although it’s probably because reading blogs is one of the most entertaining ways to procrastinate. But so is writing them, which is why I’m here.
Today I was having a discussion with Hillary about how much I want to get out, move away, leave. I’m like a walking advertisement for Southwest Airlines. Hillary concluded, “So, you have senoritis?” Well, yes. But that’s not what I’m talking about. So there I was/here I am, trying to explain, but fumbling like a freshman playing football. It seems to be the story of my life: How can I explain when I myself have no idea?
It’s just a funk. A haze. A tar pit trap.
Sometimes I am a person of extremes. (This statement in itself doesn’t make sense. “Sometimes” isn’t exactly an extreme word…) And so, being in this funk has made me want to do two things:
1. Crawl into a fetal position in my boring bedroom and never come out.
2. Go out, running, deep into a forest and letting all my soul escape as a ghost, departing through my lungs, ripping through my throat as I howl, becoming one of the lonely wolves, a shadow.
Unfortunately, I can do neither.
I hate “Top Album of All Time” lists.
Yes, yes. This is coming from someone who has written many a music list. (Cough, Song of the Week, Year 1? Cough. Seriously, that blog is just one HUGE list of lists.) But “Top Album of All Time” lists…just make me sad. (Especially the ones by Rolling Stone. But I kind of hate that magazine anyway, even though I’ll read it every time I see one at Shaunacy’s.) Maybe this is because I’m more into modern music, and most of the top spots belong to classic rock. Yet, this list from Yahoo is actually quite interesting. For once, it’s not based on bias, but on mathematical equations! I like it already.
Of course, reading the comments makes me realize just how stupid so many people are…I swear, it’s almost as bad as a Youtube video. Almost. I took the time to read way too many of them, and actually posted one myself (I’m on page 10…).
Speaking of music, Song of the Week is starting to get close to the completion of Year 2. Exciting. O_O
Aww.
So, apparently Hillary blog-stalks me, which. I’m flattered. Anyway, she’s sad that I haven’t blogged anything for a while, so I offer up this measly blog for her enjoyment. And in it, I will include two comics that pretty much sum up my last …erm, relationship-thing. I imagine that since pretty much everyone reads xkcd now, that the reader [Hillary or not] has probably already read these. Nonetheless,
and…
Yeah. Except for the whole having that conversation in bed thing. Because lord knows that I am no whore. Ahem.
Today, instead of doing my Transfer of Power like a good little student, I instead found myself reading a “brain candy” young adult novel called What Happened to Cass McBride? from cover to cover. Yes, the title could have been much better. And despite some sentences that made me want to bang my fragile skull into a rigid concrete sidewalk, (Ok fine, I’m not that dramatic) the story was actually quite interesting. (Cass, a manipulative young woman, is buried alive for revenge.) This was the first book that I have read for mindless pleasure in quite a while; mostly due to school, but also because I take one look at the books in the Young Adult section in the Wright Library and feel the need to either 1. retch or 2. laugh hysterically. About 90% of the reading there is ludicrous, and not even enjoyable in an ironic and “campy” sense (though I have found quite a few books like that there as well).
Anyway, other than that, I don’t know what to blog about. I always find myself in this predicament. I really hate blogging about myself, even though that’s basically what the point of blogging is. This is not because I don’t know what to say, it’s more like, if I get started I will go on forever. Which is not something I want to do. And the thing is, I’m rather content at this point in my life. So I can’t rant about how depressing or awesome it is. I’m merely content. Also, I hate small talk, which is what I usually do in blogs. And alas, I am not quite as witty as some of my peers. I have found that if forced, I can entertain people pretty well, but that’s usually in discussion (and in the form of a bitingly sarcastic and/or snarky comment). My sense of humor does not do well on paper (or on screen), because sometimes naive people think that I am serious in my facetiousness.
Hmm. I should probably go do something productive now.
We have survived the Apocalypse!
I know that the ash polluted the air and whatnot, and I know that breathing it was unsafe. And yet, I found those few hours of orange darkness to be incredibly entertaining. I was actually disappointed when it blew away.
So, I just got an e-mail from Six Flags saying that they are going to be open all weekend for Fright Fest, (despite the fire that was threatening the park). This means I might get to go with the band kids again on Sunday! Woo! But the only problem is… I also was planning (that if Magic Mountain wasn’t open) to finish my physics catapult at Michael’s house. Damn. Oh, what to do, what to do? Honestly, I want to go to Six Flags, and I’m planning on it. But I’m worried about Michael’s reaction. We were also planning to work after school Tuesday, and I think that might be enough time. Cross your fingers, friends.
What the world needs now/ is sleep, sweet sleep.
A shadowy figure stood in my bedroom doorway. In my daze I saw it was male, with a medium build, which lead me to speculate who it was exactly. Of course, as soon as he started speaking, I realized it was my dad. This would make sense, considering that he’s the only person who fits the aforementioned physical description who lives in my house. The effects of my previous slumber hadn’t entirely worn off, and I wondered just how long I had been conscious.
Jokingly, he questioned, “So, are you going to get an F in three classes since you decided to take a break?”
What? Classes? Break? I looked around the unlit room, and realized that the darkness had not been due to my weak eyes, but due to the lack of a sun. I became aware of my physical state – wrapped up in blankets, on top of a sinfully soft mattress. Why was I here? Where had I been before?
It struck me.
“Oh my gosh, what time is it?” I asked semi-frantically.
“About six.”
I was more awake, and able to do grade school math in my head. Quite the accomplishment.
“Have I really been asleep for four hours?”
“More like three and a half.”
It was then that I realized that I had been napping, and that my “nap” had been longer than my “sleep” the “night” before. [More like this morning.] As soon as I had gotten home, I had seized the chance that only Tuesdays and Sundays give me – to actually sleep. Wishing my parents a good night, I had flung myself into my bed, turned on some dozy Mazzy Starr and crashed.
And now I sit, in front of my computer screen, wishing that my moment of bliss was still upon me. So, will I get an F in three classes because I decided to “take a break”? No, but it’s almost depressing that the decision has come down to sleep or succeed.
It’s even more depressing that I have chosen succeed. And yet I am still getting more B’s than A’s. In the words of the oh so wise Hillary, “What the heck, man?” Also, Kellogg’s assertion that grade-wise, “B is the new F” maybe lead me to use the transitive property on my dad’s question. Observe:
If “taking a break” = sleeping,
and F = B,
then the question “Are you going to get an F in three classes since you decided to take a break?”
theoretically =’s: “Are you going to get a B in three classes since you decided to sleep?”
And the answer might end up being a positive. Although, I do not blame my mere “above average” grades on slumber since clearly, I don’t get “enough” of it. The actual culprits are tests, math, and science. Curse you, physics. I don’t freaking care how much applied force it takes to move a book up the wall. Books don’t belong on walls anyway; they belong in my lap as I sit in a recliner, basking in the wonder that is the written word. But apparently, my quest to actually finish the five or so books I have half-read [including, but not limited to: Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov, Silence in Octoberby Jens Christian Grondahl, Click by Kristopher Young] is not quite as important enough as the effects of friction. Hold on a sec while I go pull out my hair by its follicles.
This week will be the worst yet. But oh, the precious hope of that wondrous break! My heart flutters.
“And while you watch the ships come in, I will take the early train.”
Today was a long day…but that doesn’t necessarily mean it was troublesome or tiring. Actually, I’m feeling mildly content right now, which is quite the accomplishment.
Practice today was not entirely horrible. Almost fun. It’s gotten to the point though, in which I’m 95% sure I am not doing marching band next year, simply because so much has changed: new director, new marching instructors, new rules. I’m not exactly stubborn in my ways – I can roll with the differences. But when I examine my priorities, I realize that I only do marching band because of friends, PE credit and music, in that order. Next year, all my now-senior friends will be gone, and I won’t need PE credit. It’ll be a nice change to focus on music in Wind Ensemble next year: a new chance to push myself, if you will.
After practice I went to Pizza Chief with Phillip and Shorty. My dad invited Phillip to church and he responded with a look of “Um, do I look utterly insane to you?” I laughed. Because let’s face it: I don’t even like going to church. Well, actually. Let’s rephrase that: I don’t like going to youth group. Church is fine. At church, I find that I have more in common with some of my parents’ peers than my own peers, which is frankly depressing. Although, I’m pretty sure that none of my parent’s peers have ever uttered the oh so eloquent quote of “…even though he has a calculusFUCK!” as I did today at practice. The obscenity, of course, was not originally meant to be there, but was caused by me running into a short pole that I didn’t see because the music stand I was carrying was blocking my view. Taz decided to be funny though, and asked what a calculusfuck was. That was amusing.
Then I went to Acapulco with Brittany, which was fun I guess. But there were too many acquaintances and not enough friends, so I left after a while and walked over to Wendy’s, even though it was my original intent to go to Latte 101. Apparently, although my sense of direction is fine, my sense of perception is lacking. Walking alone at night was strangely calming, despite the chill and possibility of getting mugged. At one point, a red Ford honked while passing me, and a hooded head looked back at my direction. I vaguely wondered if I knew them, but it was only because I didn’t want to assume that they were honking to be stereotypical males. Of course, my realistic nature knows that I’ve never met them before, the bastards.
Woo, Magic Mountain tomorrow! I’m stoked. But I’m not excited because it’s Magic Mountain; I’ve gone about five times since June. I’m really only stoked because it’s a day I could be in school, and I’m hanging out all day with friends instead. And it’s even better than a three day weekend, because I’m not going to be sitting at home trying to not think about the homework I should be doing. In other words, thank God for Magic Mountain. I should live there. And if I’m really lucky, I’ll also be going with Bradley and Taz and other assorted band people on the 26th as well.
Speaking of band, it’s pretty much my life right now, which might be viewed at pathetic, but it’s better than nothing. I did the math a while ago, and during marching season, band takes up 26 hours a week. Saturday is our first band competition, which means the season has officially begun. Hold on to your hats.
I just realized it’s actually the early morning. Hmm. Time to go to bed.
