Originally written 12/12/09
Being at Wellesley has made me crave academic excellence. Yes, “crave” insinuates that I don’t already have it. I probably have the worst study habits out of everyone in my dorm…this semester has been a rough one. In other words, I REALLY NEED TO PASS CALCULUS. If I don’t, oh man. It will not be pretty.
Anyway, this article about America’s best high schools according to (Who else?) US News and World Report came out, and Yahoo told me about it. And of course, one of the first things I think about is how my little brother should go there, or whatever. And then I realize: Yeah right! He’s intelligent, but I don’t want to kill the boy!
I find mental health a lot more important than academic achievement. These, of course, are not mutually exclusive. But when you get into high levels, you realize just how close that line between genius and insanity really is. Maybe geniuses all drive themselves insane by not sleeping enough.
I wouldn’t know – there’s been many a time when I’ve decided to sleep instead of doing (necessary) work.
Anyway, this book sounds interesting:
School of Dreams: Making the Grade at a Top American High School by Edward Humes
It’s about Whitney High School, in Cerritos, CA. Whitney is the third best high school in the nation according to the 2010 list from USN&WR. Being from CA, I already knew about this school. My high school ( “only” in the top 3% of American high schools according to USN&WR) prides itself on its API scores and how we’re the best in our county and in the top 25 of the state. But guess what school is #1? Yes, Whitney. And even then I wondered: What do they do that is so effective?
It should be clear that I dislike rat races and “top lists”. I don’t like what they stand for – that someone could be totally esteemed and accomplished, but they are overlooked because “they aren’t Harvard”. (Btw, Harvard is totally overrated, at least as an undergrad college.) After all, at that point, what’s the real difference between #1 and #2? And colleges specifically – there are so many fantastic institutions that #25 isn’t something to sneeze at.
The people that I really respect are the deeply intelligent ones that somehow achieve outside of the rat race. Take Thao Nguyen. She’s an alumna from the #1 high school in the country – Thomas Jefferson High School for Science and Technology. She’s currently the guitar strumming vocalist of the indie band Thao With The Get Down Stay Down. That, my friend, is bad ass.
Stress is silly.
In the end, it won’t matter if I pass or fail the four AP tests that are a stone’s throw away.
We are so blessed, we measure success by abstract concepts, like numbers. Numbers that supposedly symbolize our intelligence. Some might say, our worth. It’s silly. I am not less of a person if I get a 2 on my Calculus exam. 2, 4, 5, 1, 3. Numbers. Letters: A, B, C, D, F. Not important.
If I “fail” in this academic aspect, the worst possible thing that could happen to me as of this moment is: I won’t graduate high school. I can’t see this possibly happening, but let’s just through it out there. I stay back a year. A year of my life is redone. Even that, as much as it would suck (a lot), is not that terrible. If, for whatever reason, I fail out of college. If, for whatever reason, the whole of academia turns its back on me, no one would accept me, I can’t get a job.
Terrible right? No journalism for me, but. I’ll join a non-profit. People are what matter to me. My family, my friends, but beyond that. I have never really cared about monetary success. In the words of my father, “an education is to prepare you for a career”. I am intelligent. I know how to learn. And in no way am I giving up on college. (Wellesley, woo!) (And yes…sigh. I guess I’ll still study my ass off for our AP tests…) But at the end of the day, if worst comes to worst, I can live my life without college. Without monetary success. All I want in life, really, is to help others.
You would think that the monotone activities that we currently do for community service would have deterred this young, naive idealism. But I guess not.
Apparently I made an impression….
I hadn’t even planned to speak… but there you go. The City Manager, Rick Cole, officially likes me. It’s rather flattering, really.
http://www.cityofventura.net/cmblog/2009/04/finding-wright-answer.html
In other news, AP tests? Yeah, I’m stressed. But recently I’ve had this overwhelming sense of fate. What needs to happen will happen. I’m just focusing on taking life one day at a time. And I guess that’s all I have to say for right now.
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.
First MIT, now…
Harvard.
Seriously, Harvard? You sent me a letter? Are you crazy? Aren’t you basically attended by rich families who have been there since the 1800s? And serious geniuses? Do I look like either of those?
According to the three page letter, they will be mailing me an application. Oh, Harvard. Don’t pretend I have a chance. I may be young and gifted, but I am not getting into Harvard.
And that’s ok.
And so here we are once again.
I kind of feel bad for never blogging, but after failing at multiple blogs before the creation of this one, it’s to be expected that I’m not the best of bloggers. And, as always, when I remember that I should probably blog, I forget any interesting subject matter that I could possibly blog about.
One thing I am definitely bummed about is the shrinking of summer. Remember those blissful summers of grade school when we had a full three months and went back after labor day? That’s the way it should be. I imagine that by the time my little brother graduates, the school system will have made it so that the season of summer no longer exists. Anywhere. They’ll just cut three months out of the year.
So, I received the packet of forms from Foothill today. Wtf? They want us to pay $90 to go to Foothill now? I already feel like I’m way too expensive! Good gawd. Unlike some of my peers, I hate asking my parents for money. I’m so grateful that I am going to be making my own money starting at the beginning of the school year. And yet, it seems like already so many things are starting to creep up and rob me/my parents. Screw you, Foothill. My dad gave you guys a hell of a lot of computers already, so you can go stick your “technology fee” up you’re mother’s arse.
But yeah, anyway. Part of me is looking forward to the upcoming school year, and part of me already wants to crawl up into my bed and not get out, ever. I’ve definitely been spending more time with my friends than in past summers, but sometimes I just want to be alone. You know? I love people, and I love how distracting they can be. I guess I’ve always had a conflict between relationships and goals. Hm, that sounds convoluted. And now I’ve written explanations and erased them, because none of them made sense.
I don’t know. I’ve become a much more social person over time, but summers usually lead me to retreat back into myself, because I don’t see quite as many people as usual, and when I do see people, it’s the same small group of people. And sometimes I am actively anti-social…like, I’ll be invited to something, and yet I just chose not to go. Or, my mom will say I can if I do something first, but I won’t do it because I’m not highly motivated by the event. I don’t know. Although I need/want human interaction, sometimes I deny myself of it. Masochism, perhaps?
Anyway. I should probably tell the nonexistent reader the real reason as to why I’m writing this nonsensical, rambling blog. I’m procrastinating. I’m really supposed to be writing a thank you letter to the people who sponsored me for my Costa Rica trip.
I just can’t write these kinds of letters. It’s like how writing the initial “please give me money” letter was as painful as pulling teeth. And although I am grateful, it’s hard to think of anything else to say other than: “muchos gracias, you’re awesome”. Apparently I’m supposed to give a personalized summary of what happened in Costa Rica, but I can’t even do that when I talk to people. “How was Costa Rica?” “Hot, humid, green, amazing, fun.” Did I really learn anything? Was I inspired? Heck if I know. All I really know is that I would rather be doing that for a year than going to school. I’d rather be sore from scraping walls and hauling sand than be constantly brain-tired from struggling with calculus. Perhaps I only say this because I’m used to being mentally exhausted more than physically exhausted. And when I logically think about it, I was not meant for construction and hard labor. I’m five foot two (debatable), 110 pounds (when I eat three meals a day, which is almost never), and have the hands of a pixie. I was not meant to build houses. Why do I even go on mission’s trips? Is it a selfish desire for the feeling that I’ve actually done something that will physically help people? Is that actually selfish? Is it because I want to travel? Is it the thrill of the unknown?
Even my dad realized that I was not as excited as I should have been before the trip. “You don’t want to go to Costa Rica.” “What? Yes I do.” “No, you don’t. Jeff wants you to go to Costa Rica.” And, sadly enough, it is partially true. Jeff, my youth pastor, called me up on the last possible day of sign ups, and convinced me to go. If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have bothered. How pathetic. Why would I not want to go? Because of the price tag? Because after two years of building houses in Mexico, I’ve realized that I’m not cut out for life on the mission’s field? I remember back when I was a freshman, I wanted to be a missionary. Part of me still wishes I could, but I know that any gifts that I have are not in that realm of work. They’re in clean offices, in environments that encourage mental stimulation, not physical exertion.
I guess the real questions come down to this. Which is more important: what I want to be or what I can be? People say that you can do anything if you really want to. Is it true? Part of me wants to say yes, but I know that there are limits. I could never be a fashion model, even if I wanted to. I could never be a body builder, even if I wanted to (thank god I don’t). Could I be an astronaut if I wanted to? If I devoted all my time to the sciences, and worked hard, could I make it? Sadly enough, I am leaning towards no. How ironic that I already feel like it is too late in my life to start over in a new direction. How cynical. How realistic.
And so, I am still searching for my call in life. All I know is that I want to help people and I want to be constantly learning. Let’s hope that somehow I’ll find it.
Stop teasing me, MIT.
It’s cruel and unusual.
A month or so ago, I got a letter from MIT Admissions. Ever since taking the PSAT (which I actually got a lower score than on my SAT, go figure), which was a while ago, I have been getting enough college interest letters to wallpaper my room. But getting a letter from MIT, which according to Princeton Review, is the third hardest campus to be accepted to, was still very shocking. The question is, do they really have to advertise how awesome they are? Of course not. So why did they send me that letter? Well, after reading it (it was quite witty, actually) I noticed that it was written by the Director of Minorities Admissions. Ok, that makes me sense then. I’m a smart Mexican female. They like me already. I guess.
It was an interesting experience, but not one that I considered seriously. Even though Science has definitely been more interesting as of late than say, in middle school, it is still not one of my passions. So why in the world would I go to a school devoted to it? Why would I even assume that I could get in?
So, I haven’t exactly thought about it. And then today, a bulky envelope comes in from…you guessed it, MIT. Why me? I mean, god. Reading about how diverse the campus is, how intensely masochistic you have to be to endure the challenging freshman year (in which you take physics, calculus, biology and chemistry), and yet how cool the atmosphere is…is really unfair. Freakin’ A, MIT. I can’t get into your school. It’s pretty much impossible, and I’m not even a math/science person. Why are you making yourself so enticing? You’re like a pretty, vicious teenage tease who wears her skirt a teensy too high and her blouse a teensy too low, who is obviously not actually going to give the goods, but is such a flirt that every hormone-driven guy thinks that maybe, just maybe, they might have a chance to score. But obviously, you just like to play with their emotions. It gives you a power trip, a cruel sadistic sense of pleasure.
Stop being such a skank, MIT. You’re breaking my intellectual heart.
Oh, the academic woe that is my life.
Well, ok. That might be a tinge over-dramatic.
Here I sit, with my lovely SAT prep program open on my computer, and I realize that, oh crap, that thing is in two weeks.
Methinks that this beautiful four day weekend is going to be spent getting my life in order, so I can rock next week (which multiple teachers have told me is going be quite a full and stressful one), and then also have time to study for SAT and whatnot.
This week I spent floating, it seems. Granted, I had two tests and an in-class essay, but the week still felt…airy, fluffy. Like eating whipped cream or powder puffs. Now, I’m happy that I’m not stressed, but I’m thinking that a healthy dose of stress and motivation would be exactly what I need right now.
I hope I don’t regret saying that, heh.
Life has been…
Hmmm, now that I think about it, I’m not even sure.
There is so much going on. This is obvious when it comes to school. Freaking finals. Though, I think I’ve definitely grown complacent, and that worries me. I mean…yeah, I don’t even know.
It seems like I don’t even have half-thoughts anymore, more like flashes and flickering blurs as they run past my conscious. I can’t hold a conversation anymore. And it makes me feel…lesser, but I’m sure I’ll get over it. Sometimes it’s hard to actually talk to people about anything, because I want every conversation to be worthy of words, but I think I freak people out because I’m too serious. And no, I’m not even thinking about a specific instance with specific people: this is all very general. I guess this is why I love my friends: they help me loosen up and laugh.
And then there’s social issues, which have been amazing and worrisome, depending on who we are talking about. My weekend was a huge combination of both school and social stress, and therefore, it wasn’t wonderful.
Sometimes I understand people more than they understand themselves. Sometimes I think I understand people and I’m completely wrong. Sometimes people are enigmas.
[Edited.]
Enough about that. Freaking psychology. I hate you. I always do this to myself: I can’t actually be productive until it’s too late.
So, lots of random news stories and blogs that I read have been talking about how amazing sleep is for memory and all that. Well, I would like to take your word for it, but how the hell am I supposed to remember something that I haven’t studied? Why do you think I’m spending my nights working: because I have to get it done. The phrase “time management” is not in my vocabulary. And seriously, sleep is overrated. I mean, duh. That, and eating. Yeah.
I’m just going to stop while I’m behind.
But we all knew I was crazy anyway.
I have a love/hate relationship with reading things on teenagers. I mean, on one side, it’s almost hilarious to see what adults think they should do to change a troublesome teen for the better. And I admit, most of the time, they aren’t extremely far off. But sometimes they’re just so wrong, it’s funny.
And then there is the hate side of my relationship. Because I usually encounter lists of “warning signs” and then, of course, I have to examine whether I have these signs or not. In the act of completing a psychology PowerPoint, I found this list. The ones in italics are ones that I hold:
What warning signs should I look for?
Ahem. Well, to looks at this optimistically…at least I haven’t had any run-ins with the law.
