Don’t compromise yourself to make other people like you. Stand firmly on your ground. Be confident, but also always be kind.
Until the day comes when people always do what they promise to do i.e. keep their mouth shut when they promise to keep their mouth shut, I will never fully have faith in our race. I will always be skeptical of everything good that is out there. And with good reason.
I shouldn’t be writing to you right now, but perhaps now is just the perfect time. Maybe thinking about you will be just the thing to put me back on track. I’ve closed Facebook. I can’t keep doing this – you know, browsing through other people’s lives as if the piles of work in front of me are someone else’s priorities. I promise you, I don’t think about you anymore. I don’t. I’m happy now. I’ve been happy without you for a while now. But I feel like every year for the past few years, I’ve broken down at least once and written you a letter (don’t worry – I can’t keep track of them all. Some of them are probably lost in another dimension. I won’t be sending them anytime soon). I don’t understand it either. I don’t know what made you so different from everyone else who’s stepped foot into my life. You are nothing compared to some of the others. You take up relatively no space in the timeline of my life. Yet you still linger somehow. What makes you so special? You’re not special. Whenever I tell our story to other people, I pause in the middle and wonder why I even feel the need to tell it. It’s insignificant. Especially from their standpoint. But I always include you. Why you?
Maybe it was how unattainable you were from the very beginning. There was a time when I was afraid to even think about it. I only listened to other people talk about you and quietly observed. But I had you. I had you for that split second our eyes met. It was that look in your eyes. It was the shock I felt when I saw the look in your eyes. It was how helpless I was in trying to control my own eye muscles; I couldn’t keep them from widening. Every. Single. Time. And I don’t think I’ve seen that look in anyone else since. Why?
Maybe it was because you saw something beautiful in me before I could see it myself. And I’ve never been able to let go of this appreciation for that. I was insecure, confused, selfish, scared, lost. Yet you saw the good in me. If only for a few short moments.
Maybe it was because I lost you before I had you. Maybe it was because – I don’t know. I think deep down, I’ve compared everyone else to you. Have you become the standard against which everyone else is being measured?
I’m not obsessed with you. I am not even hung up on you. I don’t know what it is. I don’t know why I can never erase you from my memory.
I know you’ll do great things with your life. I think that, as much as I hate to admit it, I’ll always be watching from afar and appreciating it. Appreciating you.
I lost my virginity yesterday. Actually today. Maybe today. I don’t even know. The lines are really blurry. Technically, we tried last night, but it was sort of a failed attempt. We tried again this morning, and it “worked,” I guess? Either way, it hurt like hell. I actually cried. It was so bad. I think I just need to relax more. The second time we tried, it felt good for like a minute before it started hurting again. I can’t really describe the feeling. Pain is definitely in the mixture. He was really nice and tried to be gentle. My vagina still kind of hurts, to be honest. LOLOL. God.
Right before we were about to do it, he said, “I’m not sure how to do this right; I’ve never put on a condom before.” I literally freaked. I was positive he wasn’t a virgin. He’d had two girlfriends before me. We even had this conversation before. I asked him, “So you’ve only been with one other girl?” And he gave me a yes. But I guess I wasn’t explicit enough so he was purposefully ambiguous. God, this boy. I can’t sometimes.
I didn’t expect to do it so soon, but I guess I felt safe. I feel safe with him. Even though he doesn’t really align with what I had in mind for my future boyfriend maybe even a few months ago, I’ve realized that I couldn’t really ask for anything more. He’s so caring, likable, funny, and so fucking intelligent it amazes me every time we hang out. All my friends approve. Even my friends’ boyfriends approve. And it’s not like I’m in love. I honestly thought I wanted to be in love the first time I had sex, but I’ve realized that that doesn’t have to be the case at all. Regardless of whether I am in love with this man, I love him. We are so compatible personality-wise. He makes me want to be the best version of myself (kill me, that sounds so cliche); I feel more confident around people now. And I thought I’d feel different after my first time (it’s hard to think of myself as not a virgin anymore), but I don’t. I don’t feel anything. I don’t feel differently about him either. I was afraid that maybe I’d be more attached, but that isn’t the case.
Right now, the only thing kind of nagging me is the fact that I’m paranoid that I might be pregnant and that somehow the condom broke, LOL. But I don’t think I would be me if I were’t paranoid about this shit. I just need for my period to come next month, and all the burden will be lifted from my shoulders.
Anyway, as of now, other than the fact that I’m sick as fuck (my nose will not stop running, ew) and have piles of work to do, I’m happy.
Peace out, amigos.
I can no longer keep up with the pace at which life is happening all around me. I want to slow down. I just want everything to slow down so that I can have time to process it all. This goes to you especially, Stanley Chang – my beloved math professor whom I hate at times. You write too fast. You talk too fast. We get it – you’re brilliant. You’re a quirky, funny, brilliant, brilliant gay man who loves the Classics, but sometimes you just need to slow down. I feel bad for the other kids in my class who have never been exposed to multivariable calculus. You make Lagrange multipliers feel like the very fiery hell that we all fear the most. The worst part is how absolutely unhuggable you are.
But it’s certainly not just Stan who needs to take a step back and allow me time to catch up. It’s everyone. Everyone – please. Take a deep breathe and let me just look around. Let me just listen to one bird song and actually enjoy it before you pull me away by the arm to participate in what’s next on our long list of things to do. I want to sit (maybe lay) down on Severance Green and just look up. At the sky, the trees, the red autumn leaves. The way I was always meant to.
My life was never supposed to get this hectic, but it has, and I’m not used to it. I don’t know what to do. I feel like many people here suppress a lot of their frustrations. Maybe it’s because there’s a general consensus that certain things can’t be mentioned or that certain issues can’t be brought up. Everyone is expected to be happy, friendly, and understanding all the time, and it just gets to be too exhausting.
I need a break.
I want to just stay in my room for 24 hours straight and figure out who I am, what I want, and what I should do next.
But I can’t, Because life happens regardless of whether I’m ready for it.
I just have to adapt, I guess.
Fall in New England is just… wonderful. It’s magic on magic on magic. It’s nostalgic even though this is my first time here. Seeing the beautiful autumn leaves makes me relive every happy thing that ever happened to me, and I can’t explain it. Therein lies the magic.
Being out here, among the trees, by the lake… it just opens up the soul and creates a feeling of optimism and serenity unlike any other. It’s like the time one yogi told me to open up my chest while I was lying on my back with my legs straight up above me. I expanded my lungs, took a deep breath, and by the time I exhaled, I had released every negative molecule in my body. I feel that now, except amplified.
I want to start meditating again. This weather makes me want to just be calm and happy and zen all the time. I just want to vanquish my inner demons.
My boyfriend is so cool.
Also, I met Wes Chan last night in the subway station (we took a picture, which I want to show here but I won’t, to protect my identity). Pinch me.
So… this guy that I wrote about in my previous post. I honestly don’t know how I feel about him. It was fine the first two dates. I felt pretty much sure about him and that I liked him, or at least was beginning to. But then the third date happened….
Long story short: We kissed. He stuck his tongue in my mouth and tried to do some other stuff. Which I shot down. And he willingly obliged. Which is a good sign I guess (he is definitely not an asshole). But it came as sort of a shock. Which it probably shouldn’t because obviously he is a man and he has a penis. The mood just suddenly changed from our previous dates I guess. Before, it’d been all warm and fuzzy and sweet. (I like that LOL.) It was totally innocent, and I got the good feels. But this time, he was clearly horny. Part of me felt like he was trying to move too fast. We’d only hung out 2 times before this…. Honestly, I was surprised and on edge as soon as he stuck that tongue in my mouth. (Please don’t even get me started on the kissing. I don’t even know if it was good LOL.)
I just don’t know what his intentions are, and maybe it’s just that I don’t really know how read signs. I don’t want to be the gullible, inexperienced, innocent (dumb) college freshman that gets emotionally attached to a senior and then gets hurt in the end. I didn’t think he was the type, but he’s so hard to read. Maybe he was just testing the boundaries those first two dates. Like, if he just wants to have fun and have something casual, that’s fine. He can find someone else to have fun with. I like him for his personality, sense of humor, and intelligence. If I wanted to have fun, I would go for someone else, to be very honest.
All my friends keep telling me that I can do so much better. He is not even that attractive. I wouldn’t stay with him just to have fun.
Which is why I need to know. Now. As soon as possible. Whether he actually even takes me seriously!
We’re meeting tomorrow night again. I will literally straight up ask him what he wants from me. We planned on going hiking or bowling Saturday, so I guess I might cancel that plan depending on his answers, lol.
He’s a senior…. He will be gone next year. Will he just disappear?
So I went on my first real date last night. He was a guy I met on Tinder (yes… this part still makes me feel weird). He’s a senior at MIT majoring in computer science and math. When we talked on Tinder, I was immediately intrigued because he was so formal and serious. And he just seemed really intelligent, which is REALLY attractive to me. I was worried for a while by the fact that he didn’t really open up and crack jokes because I thought that maybe he just wanted sex (this is Tinder, after all). Maybe he was super busy with school and work and being a genius and he just needs some side action. I know I’m overly paranoid, but my self-protective instincts do me well. But after I gave him my number, I saw a different side of him. He’s clearly very smart, but he can be funny. And he’s sweet too. He agreed to come over to Wellesley, and suggested cooking together and a movie afterwards (we watched Oceans 11, his all-time favorite movie). Another thing that kind of bothered me was the fact that he’s kind of short. He’s 5’7″, I’m almost 5’6″, so there is basically no height difference. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about it, but in the end I didn’t care that much at all.
Basically, I couldn’t have asked for a better first date. He was respectful, nice, funny, likable, and really cute. There were multiple times during our time together that I felt like he had the opportunity to take advantage of me, but he never crossed the line. We have a lot of things in common, a lot to talk about, and many things to laugh about. My favorite thing is the fact that I can potentially see him challenge me as a person. He takes me out of my comfort zone and then makes me feel comfortable. We sang karaoke and danced kpop for like 3 hours last night LMAO.
I like him, but I don’t know if I have feelings for him yet. I feel like I need to hang out with him some more to know for sure. Before he left to board the bus to go back to MIT this morning, he looked at me like he was going to kiss me. And I feel like I wouldn’t have been ready for that in that moment, and I think he could tell. We hugged instead. It was a lingering hug, and I think I actually got the butterflies (lmao this is so embarrassing).
Some things I’m not sure about:
1) He goes to a co-ed school – why does he have a Tinder account. It’s not like he lacks female peers.
2) I stalked his FB. He seems very popular. He has a lot of friends, many of whom are very attractive females. Why me?
3) Why not find someone his own age? Why a freshman?
Hi guys :)
Sorry it’s been so long since I last posted on this blog. So much has happened. The short version: College is treating me well! I’ve made a tight-knit group of friends (there are four of us) along with some scattered friends in each of my classes and in my residence hall. I love Boston! I’ve gone into the city every weekend since I arrived, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to leave it. I’ve been to three college parties (one at MIT, two at Wellesley), and they’ve been…. interesting. I no longer feel deathly uncomfortable dancing; it’s actually quite the opposite. I guess I just had to be with the right people and in the right environment. I am also no longer a “grinding” virgin. (I felt someone’s dick… that was not pleasant. WHAT IS THE APPEAL TO GRINDING? I guess it’s a way to avoid kissing the guy…). I let some guy grope me and feel me up because I was too stupid to be more vocal in my objections. Thank goodness a friend saw how uncomfortable I was and got me out of that situation. He tried to kiss me, and I almost let him. But a voice inside my head stopped me. I’m glad. I want my first kiss to be with someone who actually cares about me… not some random drunk guy who basically violated me.
I’m excited for future mixers and parties though. Because I think that I’ve learned how to handle them. I’m excited to meet… better guys. I really like this balance that I’ve found here at Wellesley. I work so hard during the week, and on the weekend, I can allow myself to freak out over boys and try to fall in love or something (not at a party or something though…).
Also, I don’t know if I should be ashamed about this, but I made a Tinder account. That’s right. I mean, I go to a women’s college. There are millions of college students in this city. It’s a good way to meet people. Please don’t judge me! People have requested to meet up with me or take me out. I’m kind of hesitant because there’s always that voice in the back of my head telling me that every one of these guys is a rapist. But at the same time, I’m excited. My friends have offered to stalk us in the beginning to make sure these people are safe. But I shouldn’t solely rely on them to protect me. I need to protect myself. I guess I just have to talk to people some more and judge their character before meeting them in person. Some of the guys I’ve matched with are really sweet.
I’m excited for the future!
What does it mean to be soulless?
Every human being has a soul, right? But sometimes life just dulls out the light in you. Sometimes, you’re just tired. The pain that you’ve experienced, the things (and people) that have been taken from you – you’ve had enough. It shows in your eyes. I got a good look at your eyes that night. There was a profound sadness in them that made me shudder. When did they lose their warmth?
Don’t look directly at me. I can’t bear to see such unhappiness resonating in your eyes. I’ve had my dark moments, but the one place where the light never fades is my eyes. They will always brighten when they see the stars, when somebody tells a good joke. They will always light up and accompany the sound of my laughter. And even when I cry, the tears don’t wash away the life – they magnify the sparkle in my eyes even more because at any moment the frowns could turn into laughter when a loved one tries to cheer me up. You see, it’s not difficult to find things to lift the spirits.
I’m just sad that this little light could not ignite the light within you.
But it’s like they say: “In the depths of winter, I found in me an invincible summer.” We can all do the same.
I wouldn’t exist if abortions didn’t exist. Back in the mid-1990s in China, my mom was working as a radiologist in a hospital. Back then, I guess the protective facilities for doctors weren’t as good as they are now. I recently found out that my mom was actually pregnant with twins before she was pregnant with me. But due to her work environment, the twins were exposed to too much radiation, so she aborted them. Consequentially, she had me instead. And then twelve and a half years later, my brother was born.
It’s hard on my brain to think about the fact that I wouldn’t exist if my twin siblings hadn’t experienced such a tragic ending. If they were healthy, I wouldn’t exist. China’s One Child Policy guarantees that. But it’s also strange to think about the fact that my brother could perhaps still be born, since we had relocated to the States long before his birth in 2008. What if circumstances had been different? In an alternate universe, my brother wouldn’t just have one sister, but another brother or sister. In fact, in an alternate universe, I could actually have a twin (how awesome would that be?). It’s crazy to think about.
So yes, I will always be in favor of legalizing abortion. Yes, it can be devastating. Yes, it can easily be construed as murder. But it saved my life, didn’t it?
God, I hate the Texas sun.
(Thank goodness I’m leaving it soon.)
Wow, in under 18 days I will set foot on the Wellesley campus for the first time. Such a mix of emotions! I’m going to try my best to make this experience the most positive it can be, but I really hope luck is on my side as well!
To be honest, while watching the actual episodes of The Bachelorette, I supported Andi. I understood that she had many difficult decisions to make, and I absolutely 100% support her final choice. Earlier choices – I’m not so sure about. I, for one, was in love with Marcus, and it physically pained me to watch him go. He was hands down the best bachelor on the show (I also loved Chris and JJ), but maybe that’s just me. Josh is cute, though. He’s obviously a good man with values, and I respect that. He and Andi might just be great together. I’m not the biggest fan of Nick, but during After the Final Rose I FELT for him! That’s when I realized how correct Eric Hill (R.I.P.) was in his accusations. Andi is a bitch.
First of all, during the segment, Andi had such a cold attitude toward Nick. I can’t help but wonder if that is her true face, the one that she can finally safely reveal now that the show is technically over and she no longer needs her “pokerface.” I can’t help but suspect whether her heartfelt, apologetic breakup with Nick was just an act so that viewers would remain sympathetic towards her, so that she wouldn’t be seen as “the bad guy,” which she totally, without a doubt is.
But when Nick asked, “If you weren’t in love with me, why’d you make love to me?” I was shocked. That is absolutely not okay to me. Not what Nick asked, but what Andi did. Nick has every right to ask this question; it’s a valid question that, by the way, Andi couldn’t give an appropriate answer to! Andi clearly knew early on that she wasn’t going to choose Nick, which is FINE. But to know this and then sleep with Nick anyway? If that’s not a slut, then what is? If that’s not a bitch, then what is? I’m not saying every girl has to know that she’s in love with her guy to be able to have sex with him. But not only was Andi not in love with Nick, she WAS in love with Josh! So why did she have to bring her relationship with Nick to the next level? Just to toy with him? Obviously, her job as the Bachelorette requires her to lead on many guys to a certain extent. But sex is “below the belt,” it was never aired, and it was COMPLETELY UNNECESSARY! This one is 100% on Andi. It’s proof that she is without a doubt a slutty bitch.
Am I “slut-shaming” her, though? No, I don’t call that slut-shaming. I call it “bad-person”-shaming. Saying that I’m slut-shaming Andi is like saying I can’t criticize a woman for cheating on her husband, which is on par with what Andi did. To me, slut-shaming means BULLYING (not just criticizing, but making her life hell) a SINGLE girl who likes to sleep with multiple guys, and it may or may not be at once. Obviously, that’s a mean thing to do, and it shouldn’t be done. It ESPECIALLY shouldn’t be done exclusively to females, which is just plain sexist. However, people should be allowed to call girls AND GUYS out for being a “slut” without being labeled a slut-shamer. I feel like society is getting to the point where people are SO excessively concerned with being liberal and “politically-correct” that it now is a crime to even voice one’s thoughts. CHILL THE FUCK OUT.
Regardless, Andi’s situation so goes beyond the term “slut-shaming.” Some people believe that if the gender roles were reversed, people wouldn’t be so shocked by the lead’s (the Bachelor/Bachelorette) actions, and that the Bachelor probably sleeps with multiple girls and viewers would be fine with it. WELL THIS VIEWER ISN’T. First of all because I’m not sexist. I would never respect a guy who did that, and if he did it to me, I would leave his ass like Andi (which I really respected her for back then) left Juan Pablo. It goes both ways. If you are already in love with someone else, and you know for sure you aren’t going to choose a certain person, DON’T SLEEP WITH THEM FOR THE HELL OF IT. That is a bitch, dirtbag, douche move that I do not approve of.
I just made an incredible discovery. All I have to say is: I now do not regret not choosing Dartmouth.
Is it weird that I’m jealous of my mother?
Like, I literally believe that my mom is more beautiful than me. She is pale (yes, I’m Asian, which means I don’t believe in the beauty of tanning), unlike me. She has perfectly clear (normal, not oily or combination) skin, unlike me. And most of all, she is extremely photogenic, unlike me. Honestly, did I seriously neglect to receive any of her good genes? I just saw her work ID photo, where her hair is messily tied up and she is wearing smocks (she works in a hospital), and she looks fucking pretty. Which isn’t something I can say for myself in ID photos. Ever. Or any photos taken by others for that matter. (I’m actually a boss at selfies, though, because I can control the lighting and basically my face.)
My mother is 45 years old and she looks not a day older than 30. I’m 18 years old and people mistake me for someone in her 20s (even LATE 20s once, which honestly felt freaking AMAZING at the time – NOT) sometimes. She has actual BOOBS (not huge, though, by ANY means. But to me what she has is good enough. I personally hate large breasts), unlike me. Frankly, I’m ashamed of myself for admitting this, but I am actually envious of my mother.
Did I not meet the societal expectation that offspring should surpass parents? I honestly don’t comprehend this. Why? WHY.
Today I woke up feeling like crap, for reasons I’d prefer not to think about. But I want to turn it around! Even though it’s already noon, this can still be a highly productive day.
Goals for today:
1. Finish at least 5 chapters of the chemistry review book (not counting the last 2 pages of the one I didn’t finish yesterday…)
2. Exercise. That’s right – for the first time this entire summer, I plan on not being a lazy bum today. I was thinking yoga or zumba.
I don’t have many goals for today because I have a feeling #1 is going to take forever, especially taking into account the amount of procrastination I’ll probably also involve.
As a science-lover, I just have to emphasize my strong dislike for chemistry. You might even say I hate it. It’s just so tedious to learn, and it takes extra effort to understand all the concepts because they’re all so abstract (I suck so hard at spatial thinking)!! I’ve taken lots of chemistry before, but it’s been 8-9 months since I even thought about the subject, and and I seriously need some reviewing if I want to place out of General Chemistry this fall. Cannot go through that hell again.
Something has happened way too often to me. Growing up, I’ve seldom had great, awesome friendships. Even now, most of the friendships I’m lucky enough to have are just kind of meh. Don’t get me wrong, the people I’m friends with are awesome people. But maybe they just know me too well, or maybe they’re too similar to me. The friendships themselves just aren’t really the ideal type that I want to have, you know? I’ve more or less settled for the quality of friendships I’ve had all my life.
With a few rare exceptions. I’ve had, like, four true best friends. But circumstances have caused all of those relationships to disseminate – most of the time, it was just the fact that they moved to a different city (this happened with 3 of them). My most recent best friend and I kind of just drifted apart. She found a new group of friends, I guess. We’re still really, really good friends, but we don’t talk nearly as much. She still hits me up once in a while to vent to me (I’m kind of hesitant to do the same simply because I feel that disconnect) because we just had a habit of venting to each other. We listened to each other’s problems, and we genuinely tried to help each other. (I don’t experience this often with people; most of the time they’re too caught up with their own issues to truly care. That’s just how people are – they’re selfish unless they truly care about a person.)
The moment I really felt that break in our bond was when she broke my trust (I think I wrote a post about this trust thing a few months ago). It really hurt because for the longest time I saw her as that one person who was the most trustworthy. I’d trusted her with a lot of my secrets because I knew she would keep them to herself. And she did. Until a few months ago when she broke my trust even though I specifically asked her not to tell anyone (but I guess that “someone” is just closer to her than I now). I still have a lot of respect for her because she owned up to it and apologized, but I don’t think I will ever be able to fully trust her again.
The best friend before her, my best friend in junior high, and I were extremely close as well. But lately (according to Facebook, which I know isn’t all that trustworthy but still), I see that she’s changed a lot. For one, she has a boyfriend. And, I don’t know, she gets her eyebrows done routinely (yes, I can tell), she gets her hair colored every month, and she’s started wearing makeup. She was never the type to do any of those things. I mean, she’s always had a habit of flirting with way too many guys, but it just didn’t matter as much when she didn’t have a boyfriend. I just feel like she’s become the very type of girl that we used to hate back when we were best friends. And I know I might be too quick to judge, but that’s just the impression I get. Maybe it’s just because I feel so distant from her now. We haven’t talked in months. It’s crazy. But even when we do talk, I just get the very clear sense that she’s changed so much. Obviously, I probably changed as well, but (at least from my perspective) I feel like the same person.
It’s rough. I just hope that in college I will have it in me to finally go out and make those long-lasting friendships that I’ve always wanted to have.
So I recently got into trashy reality television – I started three in the last week: The Bachelor, The Bachelorette, and Married at First Sight. Let me just start off by saying that I think these people are absolutely CRAZY. Going on these shows, to me, is a sign of desperation (or maybe they just want the attention of being watched by millions on TV), since they clearly can’t seem to find a decent love life in the real world, the natural way. However, I can’t see why they would possibly be desperate since, in order to be on one of these shows, one has to meet certain qualifications. Physical attractiveness is one of them. They also seem to have a certain level of charisma and social adequacy. Most of them are relatively successful in their careers, and they’re loved by their family. Simply put, they seem to have their life together (it’s impossible to have it any other way, or else these people wouldn’t be perceived as desirable by the other players on the show)! So why would they go to such lengths to “find love”? The only possible explanation is that they’re plain crazy.
Also, The Bachelor/Bachelorette, especially, make me extremely uncomfortable. How are these men/women stupid and naive enough to fall head over heels for some trashy reality star and then watch him/her kiss/fuck their 10+ other competitors? Has the world really come to this? These shows do nothing but promote polygamy under the pretense of finding monogamy, (“Oh! I want to find the one! I want to find passion and true love!” Bullshit. Excuse me while I go puke on my Cosmo.) Like, how can these people bear that? How can they still like/love someone who is swapping spit (or worse, bodily fluids) with a different person every day/week? How is that “finding love”? How desperate can someone (who is seemingly beautiful, successful, and charismatic) be? The concept is just so extremely stupid to me. It’s honestly hard to watch sometimes.
To be honest, though, as much as I would hate being one of the 25 people vying for the heart of the Bachelor or the Bachelorette (I would never put myself in that awful situation), it would be fucking awesome to be the Bachelor or the Bachelorette and have 25 people fighting for my love and surrounding me and loving me and worshipping me and making me their queen. That’s the life, man.
Despite the fact that I hate the concept behind these shows and I’m like 97.6% sure everyone on them is hopelessly dumb, I still can’t help but watch them and enjoy them and even find them cute sometimes. The guys are actually really hot. And Andi Dorfman (as bitchy and slutty as she is) is actually really pretty (her voice sounds exactly like Nina Dobrev’s, and they actually look pretty similar as well). Speaking of Andi Dorfman – even though she’s an attorney, I seriously questioned her intelligence when she said to Juan Pablo, “I just like being in court. I don’t read. I hate reading.” (Or something along those lines.) Um, 85% of a lawyer’s job is to read. I don’t even know sometimes.
Needless to say, I’m so conflicted about these shows!!
There are so many movements that aim to promote body confidence or body acceptance in women (and men, but I can’t really speak for them). Is it just me, or are those movements actually pretty futile? I’m going to try to approach this topic from a politically-correct perspective, but in all honesty, fuck that. It’s so tiring to be politically correct all the time. It’s impossible not to offend somebody, unless you speak like an alien, always use “gender-neutral” (or whatever) pronouns, and, most of all, never, ever actually communicate your true opinions. But in this post, I will. Because I can. Continue reading
snow boots(boy, are the ones I got cute!) – waterproof and toasty down jacketfor those cold, cold, wintry days 2 pairs of high quality, durable jeans (preferably from American Eagle) – medium wash, at least one pair of skinny shower caddy (maybe also loofah?) water filter 4-5 notebooks good weekly planner highlighters maybe some additional cute (but allowably cheap) clothes? hehe
Okay, I am kind of pissed off right now. For multiple reasons. But I will touch on the most recent one first. I’ve noticed a very prevalent trend lately on social media sites and blog sites where people just feel a strong need to criticize everything (in the comments, etc). People pour their heart and soul into creating something they’re proud of, and then you just go and ruin all of that to boost your ego. Literally, I’ve read posts where there is literally NOTHING about it that you can possibly, for good reason, criticize, and then I scroll down to the comments section just to find that 80% of the people are judgmental of it in one way or another.
Like HOLY SHIT half these people use the most atrocious grammar and spell “prove” with two o’s. How are they in any position to tear apart someone’s hard-work? It’s just so obnoxious. I even feel like these people just criticize for the sake of criticizing. I’m all for sharing opinions and free speech. But just because it’s legal to say whatever you want, the moment what you say hurts another person, you should rethink yourself. As a member of this society. Like, you can say you disagree; that’s fine. But use words. Use decent, human words that don’t include derogatory terms. People seriously need a lesson on how not to be a complete asshole. Not just online, but in all areas, actually.
Hello! I’m back from China! After two months of immersing in a very monophonic culture, I’ve realized that I’ve lost some of my English abilities – I get occasional brain-farts while conversing with native English-speakers (never noticed how FAST we speak) and can’t think of slang expressions that I want to use on the spot. It’s quite sad, actually. Also, I tried hand-writing some things last night, and my handwriting looks…uh, different (translation: bad). It’s okay, hopefully time will fix all these things.
Also, transferring flights in Toronto was one of THE worst life experiences I have ever had. Even broke down in tears in front of a (very tall and handsome) American Airlines representative. It was embarrassing, but he seemed nice enough not to further make me feel like crap. I won’t elaborate on the horrific layover experience because it brings up bad memories (even though it was, like, yesterday), lol. So I digress.
Additionally, as soon as I got home, my TOM (time of the month) came, so I knew it was going to be crampin’ time again (I have the absolute WORST period cramps on the first day. Like, every time I literally feel like puking and going number 3 at the same time. Sigh, my life is too hard). Sure enough, just as I was getting ready for bed (got home at around 1 AM, mind you), the pain started. It was unbearable. This, added onto my horrible jetlag, added onto my semi-insomnia, resulted in my getting a grand total of 90 minutes of sleep. It was great. Uh, not. My stomach (that’s probably not the correct term – uterus?) is still hurting as I’m typing this, by the way.
The trip in general was interesting and eventful. Along the way, I was able to cross off numerous things from my bucket list, which was absolutely amazing. Needless to say, I saw a lot. But the trip also made me realize a lot of things that I thought differently about before, so I will probably reflect about those things in a later post. Now, I’m going to try and fix my internal clock with a melatonin tablet (ugh). I will leave you with a beautiful sneak peek (taken by my brand new camera) of the many wonderful sights I saw.
I’m going to come back to this! (Sorry for the absence; anything with “wordpress” in the URL is BLOCKED in China! :C)
Originally posted on Thought Catalog:
In a city where the residents and visitors are energetic running enthusiasts, I’ve often wondered when anyone has the time to stop and “smell the roses,” (or the tulips, if you’re in the Boston Public Garden), especially in a bustling metropolis where work, studies, and other intellectual obligations dictate students’ schedules. My personal experience with bucket lists is that they just aren’t – they’re more of a romanticized conception of what you WOULD do IF you had the time.
Instead of theoretical ponderings, here is a “bucket list” of ten beautiful buildings you SHOULD and CAN explore before you have to leave Boston. Feel free to run, walk, or even take the MBTA on your adventures, as the locations are listed by their positions on the public transport line.
Go out there and explore, snow or shine. You won’t always be twenty-something living in Boston!
10. Historic North EndShutterstock
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So I’m just, you know, hanging out at DFW all by my lonesome right now. I board in 23 minutes. It’s kind of lonely (this is my first time flying internationally alone), but at the same time I like observing the flow of people and the chatter peacefully by myself.
I see the way you admire yourself in front of our sink mirror.
You tie your hair up. You quickly let it down. It’s not much better.
That mucky yellow-brown hair. You love your dyed hair.
You run your hands through it again.
You smile at yourself. Forty-five minutes pass.
I grit my teeth, still waiting for a chance to brush them.
Waiting until you stare at yourself long enough to see someone beautiful.
You are not beautiful.
No, as far as I’m concerned, you are narcissistic.
The girl I knew before I really knew you was someone I liked.
Someone I would consider beautiful.
Now I know that, to the outside world, you only pretend
to be friendly, selfless, kind.
You pretend so that you can gain the things you treasure.
Attention, companionship, adoration. Your words are empty.
You need stimulation. Social stimulation.
So you suppress your ugly, selfish side.
You save that side for me.
Now, no matter how I look at you,
no matter how long you take to apply your makeup
and brush your hair,
change in and out of clothing,
I only see mean.
I could never stand up to you.
I never had it in me,
no matter how hard I tried to be courageous.
I guess I’d just never met someone like you.
Every time I respond to your sharp words
with soft words
of submissiveness, weakness, and fear,
I think of a cleverer response much later.
One that I wish I had said,
but know that I wouldn’t have,
even if I had it on the tip of my tongue.
Because I don’t do conflict.
But that’s a lesson I will have learned through my time with you.
Because of you, I know to be stronger,
Because of you, I know to grow.
I know that your time will come, too.
Soon, someone will finally be able to do what I never could.
They’ll be even more thick-skinned than you.
They won’t take your shit.
Both literally and figuratively.
As for now, I just can’t wait until
I will never see the reflection of your face
through our sink mirror ever again.
Striving so hard to be beautiful
but never achieving it.
Pretty by Katie Makkai
When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, “What will I be? Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? What comes next? Oh right, will I be rich?” Which is almost pretty depending on where you shop. And the pretty question infects from conception, passing blood and breath into cells. The word hangs from our mothers’ hearts in a shrill fluorescent floodlight of worry.
“Will I be wanted? Worthy? Pretty?” But puberty left me this funhouse mirror dryad: teeth set at science fiction angles, crooked nose, face donkey-long and pox-marked where the hormones went finger-painting. My poor mother.
“How could this happen? You’ll have porcelain skin as soon as we can see a dermatologist. You sucked your thumb. That’s why your teeth look like that! You were hit in the face with a Frisbee when you were 6. Otherwise your nose would have been just fine!
“Don’t worry. We’ll get it fixed!” She would say, grasping my face, twisting it this way and that, as if it were a cabbage she might buy.
But this is not about her. Not her fault. She, too, was raised to believe the greatest asset she could bestow upon her awkward little girl was a marketable facade. By 16, I was pickled with ointments, medications, peroxides. Teeth corralled into steel prongs. Laying in a hospital bed, face packed with gauze, cushioning the brand new nose the surgeon had carved.
Belly gorged on 2 pints of my blood I had swallowed under anesthesia, and every convulsive twist of my gut like my body screaming at me from the inside out, “What did you let them do to you!”
All the while this never-ending chorus droning on and on, like the IV needle dripping liquid beauty into my blood. “Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? Like my mother, unwrapping the gift wrap to reveal the bouquet of daughter her $10,000 bought her? Pretty? Pretty.”
And now, I have not seen my own face for 10 years. I have not seen my own face in 10 years, but this is not about me.
This is about the self-mutilating circus we have painted ourselves clowns in. About women who will prowl 30 stores in 6 malls to find the right cocktail dress, but haven’t a clue where to find fulfillment or how wear joy, wandering through life shackled to a shopping bag, beneath those 2 pretty syllables.
About men wallowing on bar stools, drearily practicing attraction and everyone who will drift home tonight, crest-fallen because not enough strangers found you suitably fuckable.
This, this is about my own some-day daughter. When you approach me, already stung-stayed with insecurity, begging, “Mom, will I be pretty? Will I be pretty?” I will wipe that question from your mouth like cheap lipstick and answer, “No! The word pretty is unworthy of everything you will be, and no child of mine will be contained in five letters.
“You will be pretty intelligent, pretty creative, pretty amazing. But you, will never be merely ‘pretty’.”
I am never going to have sex.
So I had a dream that I was having sex last night. It wasn’t graphic or anything, lol. Well, actually it kind of was. Not going to go into detail about it, though. It was only after it (the sex) was finished that I realized that the guy (some random guy I conjured up in my dream, he looked like a rapist) wasn’t wearing a condom. I wasn’t having safe sex. In my dream state (although it felt extremely real), I wondered why I wasn’t having protected sex, why I was having sex in the first place. It just seemed so unlike me. I’m responsible, I’m always overly prepared for everything, I’m somewhat of a feminist (guys can do shit with their bodies without worrying about things like pregnancy, while females can’t).
I suddenly became really worried, so I asked the guy if he had AIDS (I’m kind of blunt in moments of anxiety; no time to play games).
“No, but I have HIV.” As if HIV and AIDS were two completely separate diseases, as if one was less threatening or fatal than the other.
What is the difference?! Both are a death sentence. (Basically. Although I’m aware that there are HIV-positive people living normal lives, but I would prefer not to be HIV-positive. I would prefer not to have a shitty immune system and die decades earlier than I’m supposed to. I would prefer not to spend millions on colorful pills. I may as well be dead.)
Suddenly, I was infuriated. By this man standing in front of me who engaged in sexual activity with me knowing he had a sexually transmitted virus. Who was so careless and thoughtless that he didn’t even think to wear a condom. Who had no regard whatsoever for the well-being of others.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Just wash yourself right now. Especially the outside. It should be fine.”
What the fuck? The outside? If it was the outside that mattered, people wouldn’t be dying from AIDS all over the world right this moment.
Obviously this man was delusional. I might as well be speaking to a dead horse (he was dying, anyway).
I was terrified. I was hyperventilating. My mother came in (I have no idea why she was there) and asked me what was wrong. I was panicking. What was I going to tell her? That she was about to go bankrupt? That her only daughter had disobeyed her and not only had premarital sex, but had premarital sex with a stupid, reckless, diseased man I didn’t even like. The sex wasn’t even that good.
It was then that I snapped out of my dream. I woke up in my dorm bed. The first thoughts that entered my mind were, I haven’t had sex, I haven’t had sex. I don’t have HIV. I’m safe.
Two seconds later, I’m never going to have sex.
Who can I trust? How do I know these men aren’t walking around with HIV? Even if I wait until marriage, how do I know my husband isn’t walking around with HIV. It’s just so stupid. Is sex worth dying for?
My mom is right. I should probably listen to her for my own safety. The other day, I told her that I wanted to lose my virginity before marriage. She was mortified, of course, and even threatened to not send me off to Boston for college. After reading half of Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar, I could relate to a lot of what Esther Greenwood was talking about. It just seemed so unfair, that all guys either have premarital sex or want to have premarital sex. And girls are expected to remain “pure” for their husbands. At least that was the expectation of young women in the 1950s, when the story took place. But that’s also what’s expected of me now by my family.
But I just think that it’s impossible for me to find a good husband who is also “pure.” There are no guys like that, at least not in America. Even the supposed Christian guys who act pious are off secretly doing drugs and smoking without their parents knowing.
So I might as well not be “pure” either. At least it would be fair that way.
My mom got really mad when I said that, lol. She said that girls who have sex before marriage are hurting themselves. Why would I want to hurt myself just to seek some sort of justice? There are all sorts of risks, like STDs and pregnancy. And no contraception is 100%. Even women who tie their tubes have stillbirths, which is even worse on their bodies. Not to mention birth control pills have side effects. Why can’t men eat birth control pills, pills that kill their sperm? They should be the ones experiencing the fucking side effects.
The truth is, men and women will never be equal, at least not sexually. We weren’t built equal. Women, like it or not, are baby factories (it makes me mad just to think about it. It makes me want to go on strike and never have a baby. It would spare me the pain, anyway). We have to protect ourselves. Men and women can be equal when it comes to rights and intelligence. But biologically? Who are we trying to fool?
My mom assures me that there are men out there who respect women and choose to abstain from sex until marriage. They’re virgins, but not because they have no other choice. I’m just worried because what if they lie to me? What if they say they’re a virgin but really aren’t? Going back to that whole unfair thing….
I don’t know. I think I just have to wait and see what happens next in my life and not worry too much about whether someone has had sex.
Life is just too difficult. I really don’t want to lower my standards.
With high school coming to an end, I want to finish strong. I’ve grown very health-conscious lately, especially after finding an awesome medical/health blog and getting my physical examination lab results. I’m healthy right now, but I’ve realized that I could be healthier. Most importantly, I want to maintain my health – for years to come. I’m still not very good with the whole exercising thing (very, very bad actually), but I’m actually not that concerned about it right now. For me, it’s like the icing on the cake (bad analogy for a post about health). My life is by no means sedentary (it’s really pretty active), so getting the chance to regularly exercise is just a bonus. I need to do it in addition to eating healthy and living an otherwise healthy lifestyle, not in lieu of it. With that, here is my update.
Skin: Meh. My skin has not been that great lately, but I don’t think it’s necessarily my doing. I think I just have to wait it out. I’m getting my first facial this Saturday, so hopefully that will help immensely with my congestion problems!
Hygiene: Pretty good. No comment lol.
Sleep: I feel like I get good sleep (enough sleep), but I’m always very groggy in the morning. No idea why. Maybe I need even more sleep?
Body: I went to get a physical on Friday, and in addition to still having 20/20 vision (I’m very proud of this), I’m currently 5 feet 5 and a half inches, and 115.7 pounds. Which I’m honestly okay with. I want to be ~115. Any heavier and I know that I’m not eating healthy. Actually, even at 115.7, I honestly haven’t been eating the healthiest I can. But I feel like 115 is a weight I can maintain. A couple of months ago, when I was exercising and being diligent, I was down to 112 (and I was on my way to being even lighter, but of course I terminated my healthy lifestyle before I had the chance). But the 112-113 range is really difficult for me to stay in because I either stop exercising or start eating a shit ton, usually both. I do eventually want to be one of those runners though. I promise. I’ll get there. One day.
Diet: Let me put it this way: I eat really healthy when I want to. When I make a conscious effort to have a healthy diet, I do, and it feels great. But as soon as I have a craving, I usually give in. Which I need to stop doing. I’m going to try to not do that at all this week (after that, it’s all up in the air because I’ll be in China. There’s no use trying to resist food in China).
Mind: Good, I guess. Sometimes, I get pretty emotional though. I start crying for no reason. I get too overwhelmed by love, I guess. LOL.
Sometimes I worry that I won’t be able to make it on my own in this unforgiving world. I’ve always dreamed of being an independent woman firmly rooted in her beliefs and passions, who is an expert at finding happiness in her own company. But the older and hopefully wiser I’ve become, the more I’ve come to appreciate the people I once thought I didn’t need. This enlightening realization is also what makes me afraid to go out into the polyphonic buzz of human society by myself, with no familiarity, no safety net, no soothing voice to tell me how to fix my life. Is this fear, loneliness, and emptiness what everyone experiences and becomes desensitized to, or are certain people just naturally immune?
Maybe I’m lucky that nothing has ever gone terribly wrong in my life. I’ve been blessed with a healthy family and healthy upbringing. So what will happen when things start falling apart around me? Will I be able to handle it without falling apart myself?
I’ve been contemplating converting to Christianity, even though I’ve believed narrowly in science for almost six years. But lately, I’ve found myself in situations where I’ve had the urge to pray. For myself, my family, for things that are just out of my control. It’s depressing to leave everything up to chance, to coincidences, and to the mundane dryness of science. Fate is what creates that spark in our lives. I think I believe in fate and the power of the universe. I also like the idea that someone is watching over me, protecting me, listening to my prayers, and smiling knowingly every time I make mistakes because they know that each mistake is a lesson. Maybe I don’t believe in the Christian God. But I want to start believing in my own god – my own guardian angel at the very least. I want to start believing that I’m never alone in this world, that I’ll always have someone on my side who sees the bigger picture, whoever they may be. Maybe I’m not so rootless after all.
“I was always an unusual girl.
My mother told me I had a chameleon soul, no moral compass pointing due north, no fixed personality; just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean…”
I have renewed faith in humanity! (Sorry, 3rd post of the day. I promise this is the last one.)
Case 1: I was freaking out today because I couldn’t find my French textbook anywhere. No one seemed to know where it was. I was panicking and almost hyperventilating because I was thinking about paying $100+ for a 200-page tiny textbook. The last time I knew for sure I had it was on Monday, which was TWO DAYS AGO. That’s a long time for a book to be wandering by itself in a 30k-student university. I thought I’d lost it. I thought whoever laid their hands on it would just go and sell it on Ebay and make $100 or something. However, when I retraced my steps from Monday, I came to Sage Hall (the computer area), and saw it resting innocently underneath the Apple mouse. I almost cried from relief. 2 days. In a crowded computer area. Exactly where I had last left it when I used the computer. No one had taken it. No one had even moved it. (Well, maybe it was moved a little, because I don’t remember ever putting it under the mouse.)
Case 2: I’ve been freaking out for the past two days over my college decision.What if I don’t make friends? What if I don’t fit in? What if I suck academically? What if this, what if that? I even vented on College Confidential (I’m so cool). And then today, I saw that another member of the Class of 2018 reached out to me. She called me “amazing” and “genuine.” It made my day. Because even though this doesn’t really guarantee that I’ll have a great time at Wellesley, it at least gave me some reassurance. I made my first Wellesley “friend” today. (I also stalked the other girl and realized that we have much in common! I hope we can be friends.) That was just so nice of her.
- How to study. Like, really study. In fact, I’m confident in my academic abilities because of my experience having my butt kicked Year 1 of this program.
- If you don’t have family, you don’t have anything. Being away from my family brought me closer to them, especially my parents. It made me realize how important they are, how much they’ve given up for me, and how much they truly love me. Don’t ever forget to appreciate your parents, even when you go out on your own. Remember how you are even able to experience so much. Read this article if you have immigrant parents like me.
- Diversity is important. My school is not diverse (hint: 70% is one race). As a result, there is a skewed sense of what is “cool.” The cliques formed are also very skewed. I’m so excited to attend a school that’s known for being extremely diverse. I can’t wait to meet all sorts of different people from all over the world.
- I want to be a physician. Having studied science for two years, I’ve discovered that science isn’t my strong point. Biology isn’t my strong point. And chemistry definitely isn’t. But I’ve learned to appreciate science. I’ve learned that incorporating pure sciences with skills learned from the liberal arts is what makes for a compassionate, talented physician.
- I can’t deal with confrontation. Roommate problems. Enough said. But I think I’ve gotten better (if only a little) at it. I need to grow stronger (again, Wellesley – perfect place), and learn to hold my own.
- It’s hard to balance school and friends. My grades almost suffered first semester first year because I “hung out” too much. I almost lost all my friends second semester because I studied too much. There’s a fine balance (I think Wellesley is the perfect place to find that balance).
- Integrity is at the core of every happy person. Honesty, integrity, kindness. Don’t lie. Don’t cheat. It seems like common sense, but you’d be amazed how many people are lying to themselves and cheating themselves (not to mention others). Have a clear conscience! And get a good night’s sleep free from the fear of karma coming back to bite you in the butt.
I have some (potentially surprising) news! I am officially a Wellesley woman!
I enrolled and paid my deposit late last night. All I can say is that I hope I made the right decision. Some people might not understand why I gave up Dartmouth and Cornell (*heartbreak*) for a women’s college, but I really think that I made the right call. Where one door closes, another (hopefully better) one opens.
Academically speaking, I’ll be fine at any of these 3 institutions. Sure, Dartmouth is “#1 undergrad” and all, but I really do think that I wouldn’t fit in as nicely at Dartmouth. It’s such a party school, and I really don’t think I’m the partying type. The people I saw on the Class of 2018 Facebook page also made me a bit skeptical of how welcoming and inclusive Dartmouth was (the boys especially seemed a bit cocky and at times rude; even the Cornell page was friendlier). Wellesley provides such a great balance! Work hard during the week, party hard in Boston on the weekends.
As for whether Wellesley will get me far in life, I honestly have no way of knowing for sure (just like I wouldn’t be sure Dartmouth would either). Perhaps I’ll just have to trust my instincts as well as all my research. The only thing I can do now is make sure I work extremely hard at Wellesley and take advantage of any and every opportunity that comes my way – whether it be research, volunteering, leadership positions, internships, or (perhaps most importantly) an opportunity to make amazing lifelong friends.
College is a chance for me to grow into my own skin, and what better place to do that than on Wellesley’s beautiful, nurturing campus? Sure, there won’t be an abundance of (frat)boys on campus, but there will be guys in medical school (hopefully I’ll get into medical school). My education doesn’t stop after my 4 years at Wellesley. I’ll have many more chances to fraternize with the opposite sex later on. But I will never have the opportunity to bond and network and become sisters with the girls at Wellesley ever again. I’m going to try really, really hard to take advantage of this opportunity.
In other news, 8 days until graduation! I’m so excited! (Although I haven’t started studying for any of my finals because I’ve been so stressed out by this whole college decision thing. Can you believe it? Just months ago, I was worried that I wouldn’t GET IN college.)
8 days until the rest of my life begins. :)
How can you expect other people to love you when you don’t know how to love yourself?
I want to keep loving myself and the people around me. I never want to walk around looking over my shoulder, afraid that the mistakes I made in the past are going to catch up to me. I hadn’t realized until recently how important integrity is – the things a person does behind closed doors defines that person’s true nature. Regardless of how slim the chances are of other people discovering the dishonest thing you’ve done, you’ll always wonder when someone will stumble upon that thing of your past and oust you. It’ll keep eating away at your conscience, no matter how little your mistake was, until you eventually blow up and self-destruct.
I never want to be like that. I want to wake up every morning worry-free, with a clear conscience. Because karma coming back to bite me doesn’t just affect me – it affects the people that I love, the people who have given up so much for me. This is a lesson that I have to bring with me for the rest of my life.
I promise to always have integrity. I want the mistakes that I make from this point forward to be those made with the best of intentions, not out of selfishness or laziness or anything in between. I have to rise about those who stoop to dishonesty and foolish acts of carelessness in moments of blurriness.
I also promise to be more self-aware, to always try to embody the following qualities: confidence, selflessness, and kindness.
A side effect of watching too much TV – namely, too many chick flicks – is my tendency to break out in tears whenever I see a man holding on to his love for a woman, changing the very essence of who he is in order to be good enough for the woman he loves. That kind of epic love doesn’t just die out. Nor does it ever get replaced. It’s a once in a life time experience; there’s a reason why they call it “the love of their life (note: singular – love, not loves).” It’s when I see a fictional man fighting with everything he’s got in the name of love to prove himself and change himself that I wonder if people like that really exist, if love as strong as that exists.
Does every woman have that kind of power? Maybe not on every man, but on one man fated to be the love of her life? How special of a woman does she have to be? How kind, intelligent, confident, sexy, funny, loving does she have to be? Just how… charmed does a woman have to be to have that kind of power over a man?
LOL I love this.
Originally posted on Thought Catalog:
Guys I’ve been doing a lot of reading on Tumblr and I’ve stumbled onto a faction of the radfem-dykequeer-genderfat movement that a lot of people might not be aware of. It’s called the anti-PIV crowd and no, PIV isn’t some new STD.
Apparently human beings, including you, have been having sex wrong since shortly after the dawn of time. We mistakenly believe that we’re supposed to engage in what’s known as PIV sex, that is, Penis-In-Vagina sex. Guess what? PIV sex is rape. Every time you’ve had sex you’ve either been raped, or you’re a rapist.
The sex that most people are doing now is actually just an invention of the patriarchy. It’s rape. Men invented PIV sex because it’s degrading to women and it’s suited to only pleasure them. That’s why most women never achieve orgasm during intercourse without additional clitoral stimulation. That’s why women have…
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I’ve been thinking about a lot of the things that bother me about other people. And by bother, I don’t mean intensely irritate (that’s a whole other post), just kind of make me feel uncomfortable. Some people pursue goals and partake in certain activities for all the wrong reasons. Even if their goal or their activity is respectable, if the reasoning behind it is all wrong, then that respectability becomes annulled. Like the girls who work out at the gym to have a better mating call for the opposite sex, like the people who want to be a petroleum engineer for the money. Working out and striving to be an engineer are great, but as soon as I hear those reasons, I just feel uncomfortable.
I have to strive to have good, pure, genuine reasons for the things I do as well. I need to learn not to get caught up in the petty things, and strive for a wholesome, fulfilling life. But truthfully, I think that for the most part, I have good reasons for my goals and activities. The only thing stopping me from sometimes fulfilling them is often laziness. I’m working on it.
would be an understatement for my current emotional state.
would be a (massive) understatement for how I feel about you. Continue reading
Why are some people so easily complacent? How can I be less picky and more like them? Or is pickiness a good quality – always have and be the best? What if it just leads to a life of discontent?
I am in love with the radiology specialty. And after perusing a Medscape lifestyle report (http://www.medscape.com/features/slideshow/lifestyle/2012/radiology), I am even more inclined to set those 9 letters as my career goal. It’ll be challenging, but I’ve been a hard worker my entire life. I believe that I can handle it. It’s true that there are probably more “fitting” professions for a female, ones that aren’t as stressful, exhausting, and time-consuming. But I think the phrase “go big or go home” applies in my situation. Why not make my 18 years (and my parents’ countless years) of hard work pay off BIG? Why not attain my dream career, one that has massive potential to be truly fulfilling, truly life-altering? I think I’ve made up my mind.
As a natural planner, I also feel the need to get high off of making lists and plans for my future.
- 2014 – 2018: B.A. in Computer Science (maybe double major or minor in something else, but not at the expense of my GPA, social life, or extracurriculars) from Dartmouth (assuming I don’t change my mind again). During the summer before medical school, take a massive vacation (tour Europe!)
- 2018 – 2022: M.D. from a notable medical school (probably UTSW, BSM, or some other relatively affordable yet prestigious school). Make family/marriage plans (this is important; I wouldn’t want to be a 30-year-old virgin. At least take initiative around this time).
- 2022 – 2026/2027: Radiology residency! (Some programs that I like – MassGen, Columbia, Stanford, UCSF, UTSW, UPenn)
- 2027 – whenever: Enjoy my family life/travel/career! Put brother through (amazing) college.
Yup, wishful thinking. But oh-so-fun to fill my mind with.
I’m excited to say that I will most likely be joining the Dartmouth Class of 2018 next fall! I’m still considering Wellesley (maybe 30%), but my heart is strongly urging me to choose Dartmouth. Can I just make arguments for both sides? Feel free to push me in either direction!
There has been the slight issue of sexual assault/student protest at Dartmouth these past couple of months, so if only to consider my own safety, Wellesley is probably a better fit. However, the University is reforming its policies, and this issue should improve over the next few years. Plus, almost every co-ed university will have this issue; Dartmouth is not an outlier. Purely “prestige” speaking, Dartmouth far outweighs Wellesley (regardless of what some stubborn, naive women might like to say on College Confidential). Not only is it a member of the Ivy League (and the only member to be a true “liberal arts” university with a major focus on the undergraduate college; it’s been ranked #1 for undergraduate teaching several years in a row), Dartmouth is in the top 10 U.S. colleges in almost every ranked list out there, while Wellesley is probably in the 30-40 range. On the other hand, there has been some speculation that Dartmouth may be “on the decline,” due to its sexual assault issues that have made headlines. Wellesley, contrastingly, is probably on the “rise,” especially if Hillary is elected in 2016 (fingers crossed). The argument to counter that is simply the belief that women’s colleges may not be needed anymore. After all, Wellesley was Harvard’s counterpart back when only males were allowed to attend the Cambridge school. Nowadays, virtually every school has opened its gates wide for females, including all the traditional ones which had women’s college counterparts – Harvard, Columbia, MIT, Amherst. Besides, the view that women need a special environment to grow and flourish and gain leadership skills is said to be out-dated and perpetuating sexism in and of itself.
On a different note, Wellesley seems to have a slight grade deflation policy. In the most recent set of data (2007), Wellesley’s average GPA, on par with Cornell (infamous for its tough grading), was around a 3.31, while Dartmouth’s was around a 3.42 (not exactly inflation, but definitely what one would call “normal,” “fair” grading). As someone who plans to apply to medical school, this is something I should consider but not take too seriously, because Wellesley grads are known to make it into elite grad schools as well.
I should probably do some more in-depth research, including peruse the course catalogs, distribution requirements, etc. Dartmouth does have a weird, but potentially positive structure, with its quarter system and D-Plan, but this isn’t something that I will heavily consider.
Don’t be easily swayed by pretty words.
Originally posted on TIME:
The world is filled with jaw-dropping sights, but rapid climate change is threatening some of the most spectacular natural wonders. Here are just a few of the world’s most majestic places that could disappear in as…
I’ve always had a tendency to take people’s words a little too literally. It’s seldom done me any good. For example, I went through a phase of crushing self-realization years ago; it was a time when my self-esteem was practically non-existent and I didn’t know how to go out and face people. As a child, the people who surrounded me called me beautiful. Not just my relatives, but also other grownups who visited us. Strangers on the street would stop and comment on what a pretty little girl I was. And when I flipped through books and magazines and gushed about the beautiful women in the photos, my mother, grandmother, and even father would tell me that none of them were as pretty as me. I thought I was some sort of mystical creature – a creature whose beauty was impossible to surpass. I was the “Snow White” of modern society. I think that part of me really believed all of their words. I thought I was the prettiest little girl in the world – which is not a bad thought to have as a child. But as I entered my pre-teen years, reality hit me. Fifth grade was the first time somebody called me ugly. I was shocked. I brushed it off as jealousy. Gradually, as the months flew by, I became more and more aware of other people’s perceptions of beauty. Finally, one day, someone very honest told me that I was at most average (appearance-wise). And then they continued to point out countless other females who were superior to me in terms of outer appearance. I knew it was superficial, but it felt like defeat. I wasn’t used to not winning. I won all my life – whether it was piano competitions, spelling bees, or academic contests. And up until that moment, I thought I had a victory in the beauty department as well. My ego was basically battered. I suddenly became extremely self-conscious. As I walked the streets, I imagined other people thinking “ugly, mediocre, yuck” as they walked by me. That was one of the lowest lows I had experienced in my life. But it also taught me many things that I was ignorant of prior to that very painful experience. I was such a kid back then. But I still am, so I guess I can’t really judge myself.
Since then, I’ve matured in this area, but I am still very much affected by what those grownups told me as a child. My perception of beauty is still so skewed. I still tend to think very highly of myself at times. But that’s normal, right? To want to feel beautiful? To want to feel adequate compared to others? It doesn’t feel good to be inferior to other people in any way. But one thing that I’ve taken away from all of this is what not to do as a parent. My parents were sweet, to tell me those things. And I guess every parent believes that their child is the most beautiful. But you never know when you’ll encounter a child (like me) who is inclined to take the words of adults much too seriously. It could affect their life and self-esteem years down the road.
After much introspection, I think that my skewed self-perception stems from not only what my parents told me repeatedly as a child, but also from my natural self-awareness and self-importance. Those qualities don’t just translate into perceptions of beauty, but also to other things. I need to learn how to be less focused on myself, and more on the world and people around me. It’s all part of self-improvement!
Originally posted on Thought Catalog:
1. Writing things by hand. Letters to friends, lists for the store, goals for the week, notes for lovers, thank you cards and memos to coworkers. Digital communication is easy and convenient but ask anybody:…
There is this indescribable feeling that overwhelms me when I think about him or see him on social media outlets. It’s not a fond feeling. Rather, it’s the kind of feeling you get when you hear an overplayed song that you used to obsess over – used to. But it’s a strange kind of feeling that makes me wonder if I’ll ever be able to think about him without having the urge to make a blog post about it. Will I get that same kind of dull feeling if I were to see him in person? Would I have enough self-confidence to face him with dignity, walk up to him, and look him straight in the eye? It’s a sour kind of feeling mixed in with nostalgia.
I have no desire to be around him. There (for the most part) isn’t anything about him that appeals to me. I don’t know why there ever was. I don’t know whether it was because I used to be shallow or because I used to be desperate. Or whether it was because I used to have a more optimistic outlook. I had expectations, hopes, and daydreams. I was easily impressed by things that, now that I look back, are insignificant, unreal, and ephemeral. I was also blinded – by something. To this day, I have no idea what it is. I can’t put a finger on it. Maybe it had less to do with him than something inside of me that shifted. Also, I think there’s still sand in my eye; maybe that’s why I still even get feelings when he pops into my mind.
Now I look at him, and he represents something different from what he meant to me in the past. He represents a flowchart of qualities, some of which I want to emulate, some of which I never want to be associated with, and some of which I wish to find in a future friend or lover. He’s important to me, just as I’m sure he is to many people (from the looks of it on Facebook). But that kind of importance is the kind people keep to themselves, locked away in a private journal, or blog. He’s an abstract thought. Not something tangible that can make a continuous impact on my life. He appears in certain moments, moments of nostalgia and sometimes sourness. Moments that can be a bit difficult to describe. Moments that I’d want to document.