1 week left

With only one week left of my first term of college, I've decided to take exactly 16 minutes of my Friday night in the library to reflect a bit:

Firstly, I want to say that college is hard. I sincerely hope that my views about college's difficulties change over time because I don't know if I can live like this for four years. And I'm not talking about academics, either. I can deal with tough classes and a big workload; I'm used to trying hard in school. The difficult part for me (which is what I've both feared the most and looked forward to the most from the start) is the social aspect. Life is just... different.

I'm much more aware of my identity than ever before - my ethnic background, my west coast-ness that people always comment on, my hair color, my sexuality - and I can't say if it's a good awareness or a bad awareness. I'm just more conscious.

A lot of people here have the same problems and concerns with the college and it's nice to know I'm not the only one. I've done things I'm not proud of (already, ugh!) but I'm also amazed at myself for being able to cope so well (ie. walking to the skating rink for 7:45 AM practice in 31 degree weather).

My next term is gonna suck in terms of scheduling but hopefully I'll have adjusted better. For now, I can't wait to start my 6 weeks of winter break in the Bay Area with Elliott. Just gotta get through this next week of finals.

Land of ice

Leaving Reykjavik today for our 13-day drive around the country. Excited for hot springs, geothermal pools, geysir, puffins, whale watching, no internet, kindle reading and more. I hope to not talk to anyone from back home on this trip because sometimes I just want to disappear. ✨

hm

the gentle tapping of the rain
the continuous drips knocking on my window
is making

me

so

slee-

py.


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college apps x homework x midterms x sats x life

Me, the fish girl

Most of my breaks in elementary school consisted of watching Friends reruns and eating Cuties tangerines on the couch – evident from the mounds of peels I had in my trashcan by the end of the day. But I had a bombass winter break in 4^th grade. I had always been a fan of animals, and loved pets. This was back when I wanted to be a veterinarian, and also before I discovered my cat allergies.

For Christmas, I asked for mealworms –yes, the larval form of the mealworm beetle- because I thought they were cute. My dad took me to Petco, and they only sold them in boxes of 100 and no way was my mother going to allow 100 potential beetles into her house. So my dreams of racing mealworms Indy 500 –style across my kitchen tiles were crushed. I then resorted to asking for fish.

Why I chose Siamese fighting fish to breed, I have no idea. But if I couldn’t have 100 mealworms, I was willing to settle for 100 betta fish. I put the two into one tank and waited for the magic to happen. Unfortunately, their idea of magic was not what I had in mind, as Unnamed (male) viciously chased Muffidi (female) all around the tank, all night long. By morning, she was missing parts of her fins, and my dad warned me that if I didn’t separate them soon, there would be no Muffidi, and thus no 100 fish babies.

I disheartenedly allowed my dad to scoop the weary and warn out female out, but that was not the end of my mission. My next stop was the library. I checked out a bunch of books on breeding techniques and betta habits, discovering an entire world of skilled breeding. I was excited, to say the least, to put my newly acquired knowledge to the test. But first I bought a new male because the one I had clearly did not respect females and was an anti-feminist. Unacceptable. No magic for him!! In an email in 2007 to a friend, I wrote:

what a surprise! you're supposed to put the male in a 2-5 gallon tank, set the temperature to about 80 degrees, and put a whole bunch of stuff in the tank. then, you put the female in a floating see through cupand put the cup in the tank.......... well VERY long story so in sum, the spawning was so beautiful. my new male built a wonderful bubblenest (my new male's name is garian and my female's name is muffidi and my old males name is lonely). garian would flip muffidi on her side, then he would squeeze her abdomen till the eggs came out, except it took them a while to do that cuz garian kept slipping off her and ended up hugging himself!! hahah.well what to do with all those fry?? hhhhmmmmmmm........ i dunno maybe give them away? possibly. right now they are all teeeensy weeeeeeensy!! and you can't tell male from female yet. but in a month, they'll all be beautiful!!! when they grow older, i'll have to seperate the males....................

So I renamed Unknown to Lonely because he would forever be single on account of his disrespect for the female body. One winter break and several pairs of betta fish later, I got what I wanted and more – I exceeded my goal of 100 fish and ended up with around 1000 fry (baby fish).

Although my fish-breeding days are long past me, I gained a new understanding of life and its creation, way before the “Family Life” videos all sixth graders are forced to watch. The concept of survival of the fittest was also introduced to me at this time, in which I horrifically witnessed the cruel consumption of fry by their own parents if they couldn’t swim fast enough. Furthermore, I gained a vast knowledge of different types of betta fish, which I way-too-excitedly got to share with my 9^th grade biology class. Luckily, people did not judge me too much and I still got a date to Winter Formal.

domestic violence / abuse blurb

It’s always easier to detect those things in hindsight, especially from a third-person perspective. But what if you’re the victim and it’s happening to you right now? What if you mistake fear for butterflies in your stomach because you’re so madly in love? What if you take the harsh words and hurtful comments as constructive criticism and harmless attempts at bettering you as a person, in order to improve your relationship? What if the unpredictability of their moods seems like just a minor, even quirky flaw, unimportant in the grand scheme of your future together? After all, love is blind.

Physical abuse is easier to identify. There are visible scars and obvious wounds as evidence to the world. But what about emotional, verbal, sexual, and mental abuse? How do you distinguish these equally painful forms of mistreatment from just having a partner who happens to be extremely protective, blunt, affectionate, or expressive? Because when you are head-over-heels enamored by this person, you excuse their faults, you take the blame for their mistakes, and you don’t realize you are the victim of their abuse.

Don't Worry, Be Happy

Bobby McFerrin's "Don't Worry, Be Happy" is one of my all-time favorite songs. Not just for its cheery beat and McFerrin's awesome accent, but for its super intelligent lyrics!

Okay, you can get the message from the song title, and okay, some guy is telling you not to worry and to be happy. BUT STOP. It's not as simple as that. Or maybe it is and I've just taken an extraordinarily long time to take his advice.

I'm a generally content person, and I've survived breakups much worse than this one, but there are still those moments when your mind gets caught in a limbo, when your train of thought gets separated before reaching its destination, floating aimlessly between one idea and the next, when suddenly your entire brain shifts gears, loses direction, and is consumed by a tunnel of memories. At least, that's how I envision my mind to be like. But what I mean is that I've been kind of sad a lonely lately.

But I had a revelation the other day: we can choose to be happy. Shit happens and life sucks some times, but we can choose how we react to those circumstances. Do we let bad things dictate how we feel? Or do we take a step back and choose for ourselves? We can choose to be happy, regardless of the situation. And what's so awesome about that, is that once we make that decision, things really do get better.

I've begun working on the dreaded college application essays that plague the first semester of senior year. Everyone loathes them, and they're probably one of the most complained-about things in high school. I mean, I've been hearing about how awful they are since 7th grade! And they're tedious because you have to sit for hours, writing and re-writing, editing and revising personal statements and supplements, over and over again. So you can sit there and complain and lament and be frustrated and procrastinate and life will suck.

Or you can choose to be happy. You can relax your brain from thinking about all those summer assignments, what you have to eat for lunch, the chaos in Egypt, and just enjoy the time that the college applications give you to think about yourself. Be selfish with the amount of brain space you allot to yourself. It's okay to be narcissistic here. All of the prompts are crafted so that colleges can learn more about you, as a person, and no one knows you better than you, so all you have to do is think about you! (Wow that's a lot of you's!) Your past, your present, and your future. It's really quite enjoyable, but only if you allow it to be.

This is mostly a note to myself, and the future me, when things get stressful and shit blows. Just remember: don't worry, be happy.

Bruno Mars lyrics are stupid

Let me start off by saying that I love to sing Bruno Mars' songs (or any pop songs, for that matter), loudly and obnoxiously in the car when I'm speeding down the freeway. And his songs, I find, are especially great for that because they're just so... singable.

But have you stopped to listen to the lyrics? As with almost all pop songs these days, they're ridiculous.

The following is from his recent single, "Treasure":

Pretty girl, pretty girl, pretty girl, you should be smiling

A girl like you should never look so blue 

Wtf. Just because this girl is aesthetically appealing, she isn't allowed to display her emotions? Is she required to always plaster on a smile, even when she is obviously unhappy? If that's the case, I hope no one ever accuses me of being pretty.

I'm not even going to go to "Marry You" or "Grenade" because those are just so dumb. There's an utterly hilarious Youtube video by Kingsley about "Grenade" that is my go-to source of entertainment.