no more ideas

 Hello.

Where to begin?

I haven't written like this to myself in so long. I guess I just let the tide of life take me by.  I still haven't got the energy (or just pure mania) to write like I used to. 

My ideas would just come to me like a wad of spitballs inside of a school classroom...or let's not give that such a vile image. how about---they came to me like crackles in a flame. i'd just have so many ideas and I'd never really get bored. And at night was the time I had most of these ideas. Where I had time to myself to quiet everything else around me except for 

my mind. 

my arms feel weak typing this up, but i will try to fight through it. 

OF F[insert expletive here] COURSE.

i hate college.

it's taken me a long time to come to this conclusion. it's actually really fucking hard to admit.

of course, it's currently finals week, and i'm isolated inside of my boss's office at my job, trying to salvage whatever remnants of my GPA that i can from this burning ball of crap of a semester i experienced. so, of course i'll be writing this in a bitter, dazed, caffeinated frenzy, which, given my trajectory of mood swings in recent years, might just be a temporary feeling at the moment.

i am now a senior in university. 

this is something that -- i won't even lie to you, had envisioned. i had always envisioned myself going to college, it was one of the many escapist fantasies i had growing up. and honestly, ironically but not really, i am proud of myself for doing it in real life. truly. honestly.

but right now, in this stupid moment, i hate this place.

i always kinda had a weird feeling about the university i was going to, even before i applied to this place. it was never in my dream or plan to go here. i had actually always seen this place as elitist and cutthroat. little 16 year old me had always had nausea when thinking about the university i got into, particularly because i lived almost ten minutes away from it by driving. it's considered one of the more prestigious universities in the world. and when applying for college, i just wanted to go to school, not crap on everyone around me.

i never really was that great of a student anyway.

i think was really saved my butt all these years in hgiher education is my love of curiousity. i have always, always been a question-asker, much to the point of annoying the crap out of some folks. my fifth grade biography created by my teacher even said that i was "inquisitive" and always curious. i loved that part about school, learning that there were always possibilities to things and life and that trying them out on your own was always your opportunity.

but,
the environment that i am in. the school that i go to--imagine...going to school with all the straight A kids, and you barely made to being a B+ kid all throughout high school. i sound very privileged and spoiled, and that's kind of the point.

i hate this school because it is a hyper-focused view of life. it moves too quickly, there is always too much work, you never really quite get everything finished or complete in the way you want to. everyone's stressed because they don't have time to think things out quickly enough. Everyone, meaning: students, professors, staff, faculty. everyone who has a position on this campus, no matter the role, is stressed.

here, time is a game that is too easy to lose.

you get so much passive aggressive behavior. and that can come in any form whether it be your financial aid advisor snarkily calling you out for not turning in things on time or someone pushing past you on the street while they are on their way to class, as if you both aren't going to the same place.

time is currency.

i've heard this being said by a lot of people days. at this university, there's nothing that could be futher from the truth when hearing that. you literally need to allocate your time to what may best benefit you to succeed--that is, getting a GPA high enough so that you don't get kicked out of university and high enough so that if you ever decide to do things in the future with it, like, go to Graduate school, you'd be in a good boat. but it doesn't help that your school is notoriously known for a process called Grade Deflation. 

that is,
graders purposefully mark down grades in classes and make it next to impossible for students to get As, no matter how much effort and energy a student may put into their work. if it isn't precise, if it isn't exactly what they are looking for, then they use that as reason to mark you down. and it's weird because the classes where you'd expect to get As, you end up getting B+ or B-, and the classes you'd expect to get B+ or B-, you end up getting As in. It's happened to me a few times, which is infuriating.

and i never was one to complain about my grades. i just wanted to pass enough to have some sort of safety net for when i graduated. that was always my goal in school. i was pretty much always a B student despite...lowkey being teachers' pets in all my classes.

okay, so i wouldn't call it that, but more like, in subjects that i was very curious about, which would usually be all my classes except for math and gym, i'd raise my hand and always have thought-provoking things to say--according to my teachers. i mean seriously, i met my fourth grade teacher just last year again and she had tears in her eyes when she saw me. she was like, "i always knew you were going to be great, you were one of my best students." and so did my fifth grade teacher (she went to the bar with us). and so did my 7th grade teacher. and so did my 11th grade teacher. and so did my freshmen year professors and GSIs. and sophomore year and junior year. and so did my research program. you get my point.

but never A+.

but whatever, i could care less about those grade situations right now. what i am most concerned about right now is the fucking money that i am going to have to pay to this placeAGAIN for reasons outside of my control. there is always, always something.  if it isn't grade related, then it is money related or family related or health related or relationship related. one of those five things is always out of wack, no matter how how h o w hard you try keeping them all togther.


i was having an okay/non-manic run for a bit, these past two to three weeks. but then i make the mistake of checking my financial aid account tonight while "studying" for my finals which i know i will fail (i burnt out like two years ago, you guys. i just don't have the energy anymore). and looky-looky, turns out i owe this place $3000 !

and of COURSE i don't learn about this until today. and of COURSE that wasn't brought up until this week, the last week of classes where it would be unlikely that i'd have time to make up that money. and OF COURSE it might be related to me dropping my semester of school last summer when i went abroad, had all those health problems, and failed my classes. and OF COURSE no one told me that i would need to pay the money from a semester that i did LAST YEAR back after dropping it for reasons out of my control. they in fact, encouraged me to drop it! I was encouraged this whole time to just wipe the thing from my record, but now my account is saying that i owe $1000 back for health insurance (not sure why) and some other random charges.

and OF COURSE OF COURSE OF COURSE i didn't get that email from my financial aid advisor about turning in my appeals form for my scholarship until now, and she told me that i would need to turn a piece of paper to her by a certain time two weeks ago so that i could extend my scholarship, but of course i didn't see that shit and now i'm going to have to figure out a way to pay for my school next year while i'm a super senior.

by the way, did i mention that my mom called me two hours ago and told me that my grandfather almost died (again)?

Of Course.

Hello wonderful readers!

How's everybody doing tonight? *cricket noises ensue*

Great, well guess what time of year it is again...

That's right, you guessed it--it's Winter Break! This is probably my last one of my undergraduate career *yikes*. So I am giving you my bi-annual update on how things have been going so far in terms of my life.

I would say the highlight of this year is that I went to France. This was my first time out of the country that I currently reside in. It's an interesting experience travelling outside of my hometown, for any reason--especially given the fact that my college is in the same city or region as my hometown. Things can get a bit dull sometimes.

Things get dull in that most of my friends live south of where I am, and every, single, break I am left alone in the grayness of my cold city, while I see everyone down there partying it up with margaritas and such. My depression has such a great time with it.

I am currently in the basement of my school's museum (I know, they got some sort of money, I guess) typing in a lonely corridor on top of a marker-and-paint-ridden canvas, with boxes of colored pencils and scissors around me. It was art night here--apparently it happens every night--and usually a bunch of parents show up with their little ones. This would explain the tattered canvases.

I watched that movie "Bird Box" last night that everyone on the internet is so hyped about. It was a good movie, however, I would warn all of those who haven't seen it yet or who are intending to see it that they take a good look inside themselves before they do.

The movie deals with suicide and death, and I know these topics can be a trigger for many people, including myself. I watched it, while my sibling was in the apartment with me--they didn't want to watch it, which is fair. I believe that the concept is very god, and of course, like all horror movies, there were a couple of loose ends that I wished had been tied up a little further.

But I am not going to talk about that movie, anymore on here. I think it's pretty triggering, so I am just giving all those whom I mentioned before the trigger warning that it deals with those topics, so watch at your own discretion.

We're OLD

Hello, hello, hello!

I am now old.

Yup. A senior. This is unbelievable. There are so many other things I could have been doing besides being a senior. Ha, just kidding.

College is a lot, dude. I am not going to lie. I go to a really tough university, so that is a big contributor to a lot of my stress. I've learned a lot of things about myself just within these past two years, and of course there is so much more for me to learn.

I learned that I am pretty stubborn. And it makes so much sense because I am a Taurus.

I went to a DIFFERENT country! I went to France, y'all. Me, little ole me who grew up poor and went through all that crap actually went to another freaking country by myself.

I'll finish this post later because it's late and my cat want to help me type this lol/\.

I Haven't Been Honest...

I haven't been quite honest about my intentions...

I know that I when I started this blog,  I started it with the intention being light and playing around with my humorous side.

I don't mean for this to sound masochistic, rather, I want to present to you, my fellow readers, my reality. The reality in being a Blogger, an aspiring writer, a Millenial on the internet today...

A human being.

It's important to portray the reality of things, especially given our society today. Social media is something that hits me the hardest. I know that a majority of it is performance and does not show the full story of people's journeys, yet still, my subconscious can do nothing but see absorb what I see as the reality for people today. It does not understand that time does not exist on the internet, and that people can be very immature, or very much mature. Just, basically, there are a lot of unseen nuances that get lost in translation on the internet.

I am presenting myself to you, today, as real as I can possibly do:

I have depression, and today, I feel depressed. I want to be as honest as I can be.

I always wonder if even those with the most privilege in the worlds can experience these feelings, and what their depression looks like.


To be honest, my fall semester of my Sophomore year was my hardest because I experienced so much loss. I lost my great aunt whom, until her passing, I hadn't realized had a very influential role in my life. My family lost our home, and our landlord threw away all of our belongings without us knowing, rendering us completely homeless.

I had not experienced the homelessness myself since I had the cushion of scholarships paying for my housing during the time. I did, however, feel extremely guilty and simultaneously helpless. I felt like I couldn't give my family much more than what I had because I had nothing myself and had to got to school and work at the same time. And several other personal things I can't mention now happened to me and my family.

Not to mention the joke of an election happened in that same year. 2016 was just a trash year.

I just felt like complete shit. I felt like I was being a horrible person to everyone--my family and friends. And I didn't know how to be well.

The same thing, to a lesser caliber, is happening to me now. Now that I am experiencing the first summer to myself, since moving from my house, I am realizing that I never really learned how to enjoy myself. How to be social. I would always put myself into working situations.

I never learned along the way how to call up my friends and ask them to hang out (this stopped in high school). I never used to go out to parties or to places with people. I usually just did my own thing. I never got into dating. Everything that a lot of people did in high school, I am barely learning.

It's like--I am approaching my third year in college and I still haven't gone on a date. Lots of dysphoric thoughts are clouding my ability to render myself capable and beautiful, even in the face of adversity. In a lot of cases, though, I am too shy to take the first leap, mostly because I have never experienced it before, thus I don't know what it looks/feels like and cannot determine whether the outcome will be a good use of my time or not.

Dating isn't the only thing that bothers me, though.

Even asking friends to hang out is a stressful situation for me, even though I very much want to do so. The social anxiety and once again, the dysphoric thoughts, tell me that I am incapable of being good company or whatever, so I back off.

But this is hurting me. I want to have more fun. I want to experience more life. I no longer want o isolate myself, because I know that I am not growing by doing so,

and summer is over soon.

Junior Summers ~ I have to Poop

I am kind of back again!

And it is the summer before my Junior year of *gasp* college!

Can you believe that this has even come to fruition? Each day is honestly like a dream!

It's true. I do feel more radiant and beautiful, and wonderful in the skin I possess. And the way that I wear my pride is becoming noticeable to my peers. It makes me feel wonderous in ways unimaginable.

I am thinking much more about how I wish to present myself to the world, without degrading myself. Without feeling like my exterior is trash, and immovable.

I would love to finally embrace the clouds as I am flying on the hiatus.


I am also trying too hard to sound like a poet. And I have to poop.

*goes to poop while thinking of how to turn this into a meaningful metaphor* 

Too Much to Think About

Hello,

I am back from a two-year dormancy.

I feel like there is no need to apologize each time I come back.

The reasons I leave for so long are obvious:

I am living life.

Whether well or not, I think it is safe to say that so long as I come back to paraphrase at least some of life's happenings, then all should be good.

Right?

Ah, but who knows.

Or cares. 

I am happy to be back.

Right now, I am in the middle of my sophomore year, and the beginning of my second semester. Classes have been in session for two days, and so has the thunderous, pouring rain of winter.

Also, in two days, Trump's inauguration is happening. It sounds surreal, but alas, it is true.

I feel like, in 2016, or sometime shortly before that, the earth's/universe's life energy tilted on its axis for worse. It seemed like almost every possible (unpredictable bad thing) that happened in 2016 happened, and we were left no break at all. A ton of great activists and people passed for no reason, it seemed.

Perhaps the Mayans, Nostradamus, and all those other predictors of world decimation were right:

In terms of growth, 
I would say that I've grown nominally. That is, bits and pieces, rather than myself as a whole grew more than any other part of me. My social anxiety became a bit more manageable because of

1. Medication
2. Acceptance

I have begun the long, well-worth-it journey to self-advocacy and self-acceptance.

Some ways I have noticed this growth are:

I can stare at my own face in the mirror without feeling the rumble of grotesque disgust in my belly.
I actually have a reservoir of compliments for myself--created by me.
I am starting to show people my talents--in other words, the true me.

It's grand.

There is a video that's been circulating the internet that involves a pep talk by Will Smith. In it, he is making a motivational speech about letting go of fear and inhibitions when it comes to what one truly loves.

He says,

"God places the BEST THINGS in life                                                       on the other side of fear"


I was struck when I heard this.
This line, I have decided, is to be my mantra of the year. It's so true. The best things come to those who pursue their passions.

You know how some people perform on street corners and things like that, or those who have been perfecting a craft for many, many years? It just makes sense. People like to pay seeing those who do things in their element. Moreover, people come up with the best material when it's a craft they enjoy.

Though I say all this, I am (of course) having a major conflict at the moment.

Ha.

I just made a pun.

That is: I am STILL having trouble choosing a major. This is not good because I am at a public school.

The majors I am in-between right now are: Sociology and African American Studies.

I truly love African American studies, but I abhor the stares and upturned noses I get when I say that Af. Am. may be my potential major. I've even shit-talked the major.

It may seem clear to you, which to choose, but to me, it isn't!

I also would not be so confused if I hadn't had two other minors in mind, which are:

Creative Writing and Music.

See. See that?

The combination of them all sounds amazing---

BUT

STRESSFUL AND UNDOABLE AF.

However, combining such like: Af. Am with a minor in Creative Writing and Music, or
Af. Am and Sociology, with a minor in Creative Writing or Sociology with an Af. Am Minor or Sociology with a double minor in Af. Am. and Music or Sociology with a double minor in Af. Am. and Creative writing or---

(my current plan)

Sociology with a TRIPLE minor in MUSIC, AF. AM., and CREATIVE WRITING. 

It's all too much. 

For the Poet Muse

I think you would love this website that shows you what is out there for Indian Poetry.

Indian Feminist Poetry.

http://feminisminindia.com/section/culture/poems/

What College Does to You

So, what have I been up to since I've been away?

Well, I made it to my second year of college--currently in the middle of my semester, according to my testing schedule. However, many of my friends at other colleges are just starting their second years. Meanwhile, I'm over here in the middle of midterm season.

Tests really do make kids go crazy in college. I don't know if it is the pressure of procrastination, or having to re-absorb so much information again, or perfectionism. It's probably an accumulation of all three.

Honestly though, tests are just a social construct as are all things man-made and/or derived specifically from societal structures. Essentially, everything we touch is merely an enigmatic process of our social projections.

...


College.

This is what it does to you.

Actually it's three in the morning. I have to be at work at ten. I had dinner two hours ago.

I am a mess.

A damn mess. 

/_ET'S PROCRASTINATE!

01010100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01100011 01110010 01100001 01111010 01101001 01100101 01110011 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01100001 01100010 01101111 01110101 01110100 00100000 01101111 01110101 01110010 00100000 01100111 01100101 01101110 01100101 01110010 01100001 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01110111 01100101 00100000 01101100 01101001 01110100 01100101 01110010 01100001 01101100 01101100 01111001 00100000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01101111 01110101 01110010 00100000 01100110 01101001 01101110 01100111 01100101 01110010 01110100 01101001 01110000 01110011 00101100 00100000 01110111 01100101 00100000 01101000 01100001 01110110 01100101 00100000 01100001 01100011 01100011 01100101 01110011 01110011 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01101001 01101110 01100110 01101111 01110010 01101101 01100001 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01100111 01100101 01101110 01100101 01110010 01100001 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 01110011 00100000 01100010 01100101 01100110 01101111 01110010 01100101 00100000 01110101 01110011 00100000 01101100 01101001 01110100 01100101 01110010 01100001 01101100 01101100 01111001 00100000 01110100 01101111 01101111 01101011 00100000 01100011 01100101 01101110 01110100 01110101 01110010 01101001 01100101 01110011 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01100001 01100011 01110001 01110101 01101001 01110010 01100101 00101110 00100000 

This, my friend, is an actual statement. It is actual computer speak. I would translate it for you, but since I am a firm believer in  tough love, I will not do that. Instead, I will link you to the very website in which you can have all sorts of fun with computer language, and ultimately chronic procrastination, like me! And possibly fail a summer course for doing so!

Aren't I so cynical--I mean the best?!

(SHOULD I START TAGGING POSTS?)

Adieu,
Burgers

Summer Time Baddness

Just gonna set something straight...

What time is it? 

I wish I were still as happy as these folks!

Sophomore Summer so far is a bummer. 

Sorry to dump rain on your Ice Cream Sundae Parade, but seriously, nothing's happening for me. A good idea for your first (technically my second) summer of college is to STAY AS FAR FROM YOUR PARENTS HOME AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE!

I don't mean to sound ungrateful, not like a spoiled millennial brat who refuses to use her agency and call her friends. I am saying that it is hard to do much. Especially if you are normal. Like me.

This is what your second summer will look like if you choose to stay near your college:

- All your friends go back home, in which, home is located more than 200 miles away and takes hours to get to. So meetups like you did in the dorms are not quite all that possible.

- All your high school friends are either completely unreachable because they have either:

(a.) got new phone numbers and "forgot" to add your number
(b.) deleted/blocked you on all social media platforms without your knowledge
(c.) became completely boring
(d.) ?

In which case, all of these answers lead to a simple conclusion: they were never your friends in the first place. But of course I am generalizing the experiences of all and many. Besides, isn't 2016 is the year of burning bridges? I mean, just look at these wonderful just observe the recent actions of our faves, here and here. You cannot tell me that it isn't when you see all of that.

But I digress. The summer should always be a time for individual growth. This is the most pertinent time when you can choose to have all the time in world and do pretty much everything you wanted to do during the school year but couldn't for some odd reason.

My impeding factor was the dorms. Oh the college dorm life. 

u wanna no where i got this?

*shivers*

It was...An Experience... Don't get me wrong, it's an experience I believe that everyone who is granted the opportunity should take. It's life changing and eye-opening, and honestly one of the best residential experiences I have had in my life thus far. The only con I would say there is to it is that it feels very much like HIGH SCHOOL AGAIN. But like, High School x 2 1/2.  (Take that however you want to. Some loved high school. Some hated it.)

At least this were true with the situation that I was in.

I had a different experience from a lot of people. I lived on a themed floor, which is exactly what it sounds like: a group of people lumped together because they all express a common interest in something.

That's all I will say about that for now. I may write more later on, but for now, I think that is all I need to say. I definitely recommend that you see the dorms for yourself if you are considering it, especially as a Freshman. Don't pass up that opportunity, especially when you are so young and have the world as your oyster.

But enough of this tangential dialogue. All I wanted to do was update you on my status--excuse me, I meant to say lack of an interesting summer whatsoever. 

So there. In the words of an inspirational people I have ever met:

"Don't Do Drugs or You'll Get Like Me!" -- man at the liquor store. 

Can we all just--

It's like I'm doing this on purpose... 

Nite,
Burgers.

Anxiety... Part 1 1/2

I am not one to share my personal information with people, but I think that since this is such a personal sphere, and sharing is one of the ways I cope with feelings, I feel like I should write about this.

I was diagnosed with Adjustment Disorder a few years ago by my therapist. It was spurred by a flurry of involuntary situations I was in at that age--home life, growing up, upbringing, etc.

Coffee makes me feel really tense, caffeine in particular. I do not think that I should have it.

Social Anxiety makes you think that everyone in the coffeeshop is looking at you, thinking about whether you're doing something inappropriate on your laptop, when you're just blogging.

It's hard for me to talk about these experiences, but I think it is important to note them, simply because they give me

Working around anxiety means working around my way of living.

It's believing that the cashier hates you because you took too long to make your order. It's waiting anxiously for the cashier to ask you if you have the money. It's wondering if you still have the money in your account even though you literally checked your account five minutes ago at the bank. It's paying for your order, sitting down for two minutes, and being sure that the cashier forgot to log your order, even though the menu said there'd be an eight-to-ten minute wait.

It's waiting a week to respond to a comment on your Facebook page, or waiting days to reply to an important text or email, simply because you are afraid of acting upon impulse.

It's writing a blogpost about it, knowing that there is something there.

It's feeling like there is always going to be some big event happening everywhere you. It's like having the world watch you, and not at all. 

Anxiety and Depression

This is what I am talking about. This is what having anxiety and depression at the same time feels like.

I just...

It's not you, it's me.


ANXIETY & DEPRESSION IN PICTURES

I am so Awkward: Part 1

This is a pure disclaimer:

I am extremely socially awkward.
I mean, there is no one in this blue planet that can get any more awkward than me. I shy away from everyone. I overthink everything And that is the reason I end up becoming more awkward.

I am just really, really awkward.

k, that's it  for now, bye. 

The Power of Being Vulnerable: PART ONE

TW: Mental Health and Illness are discussed in this post.

There is so much power in vulnerability.

As paradoxical as that may sound, it is very much true. These past couple of months in college have forced me to become a stronger person, and has forced me to illuminate my own positive attributes.

The thing is, in college, you are surrounded by a sea full of ridiculously amazing, inspiring, and wonderful people---and it is difficult to get away from them. So, you're forced to find what makes you special...unless, you are content with feeling completely uninspiring.

Yesterday I went back to my old college program and I spoke to one of my mentors about my experiences in college so far. I could tell that a lot of people were elated to see me. And that really boosted my self-esteem, because in my senior year of high school,  I felt like I had become a nuisance to the programmers there because i was always at the program. I literally went to the program every single day.

My mentor was inspiring (as always). I was telling her about how there are so many amazing people at my college, and how easy it is for me to feel talentless when standing next to them.

"I just think everyone I meet is so beautiful and inspiring, but I don't see any of that in myself," I said to her. Clearly, my mindset is self-deprecating. It's been that way since I was a small child, and it enveloped my entire thought processes when I was a witness of domestic abuse within my household. Not thinking I said anything wrong, I continued speaking, mindlessly, until she interrupted me.

"That isn't true. Despite what you think, there is a distinct reason why you were accepted to that school. They didn't make a mistake with your admission," she retorted. In my stunned silence, she continued lecturing me about the un-likelihood that Berkeley made a mistake in admitting me, and how crucial it is for me to see the light in myself that everyone else sees. I listened to her. And, for once, my brain was silent. I wasn't consumed with negative thoughts trying to convince me of why somewhere her reasoning was wrong, and that there still had to be something wrong with me, even after completing my first semester at the university.

Let me tell you this: overcoming low self-esteem and -image for years is not an easy thing to do, as is mental illness. My self-depreciation can be attributed to my mental illness, but still is not excuse for me to be so hard on myself. I don't mean to that my experiences are synonymous with other's, but mine is my experience.

I don't feel as badly about myself as used to, but I have realized that being so low for so long has caused me to mentally program certain thought processes in my head. I hadn't even been thinking about how much I have improved when I said that I don't see the light in myself. I actually have seen it; I have given myself enough of a clue of it to follow my interests. Slowly but surely, I have conquered some once-paralyzing fears, just this semester. I know that I am a much stronger person than I was back when I was sixteen, or even a year ago, yet I still continued to blurt out that I was worthless.

The same thing happened to me today when I was speaking at an Alumni panel for my old high school. About an hour before going to the event, I had been fretting over what a whole bunch of high schoolers were going to think about me. I changed outfits several times (my wardrobe consists only of graphic t-shirts and jeans. There's not much to do with that); I changed my hair style even more, so as to reflect a care-free attitude (how does one pull off effort, effortlessly?); I wore earrings, took them off, then put them back on. Doing all of these things made me later to the even than I had initially planned to arrive. And, upon arriving for the event, I ended up changing clothes again because I was not satisfied with my appearance. Yes, I brought an extra shirt, and yes, I covered that shirt up with a jacket. It was pointless, obsessive thinking.

It wasn't until the panel was over I realized how utterly exhausting it was to think about what other people thought of me. If that was me in one day, then what had it been like for four years of high school?

I then remember that I had been telling everyone about how nervous I was. Giving voice to my emotions is one method I find calms me down, but not always to the positive disposal of other people. They reassured me, and it wasn't until I really got into my element that I calmed down.

After the panel, I found myself feeling very "powerful" as my old English teacher described it later.  A small, soft-spoken high school freshman came up to me afterwards and told me that Berkeley was her dream school. She asked me the typical "what do I do to get in your shoes?" question, as if success is formulaic and non-discriminatory. It was the same kind of question I would have asked at her age, but I answered as big-sisterly as I could. I think I reassured her by telling her that I struggle with shyness and anxiety just as she probably does, but I told her that her efforts to reach out were just one of the ways to be successful.

Even though I sometimes can't see it, I think I am doing much, much better than I realize. My friend even told me that I am a better speaker and seemingly more confident person than I give myself credit for, and that struck me as well.

I don't know if this negative and mechanical self-criticism I do to myself is just another level of maturity that I need to overcome, or if it is a product of my mental health struggles, or if it is just my own personality (I highly doubt this one), but I know that it is there, and I know that I want to change it. These past couple of days have taught me how much my own thoughts about myself affects my relationships with other people, and my own outlook and success.

Though re-wiring my brain to love myself more will not come without undulated work and stress, I think doing so will be beneficial. If I trained myself to get into this rut, then I can get out of it.

I am sure of it.

With loving thoughts,
--E. 

Enjoy Your Last Days of Freedom.

Hello!

Remember that Buzzfeed Community post I told you about?

Well, it's received over one thousand views since I posted it, which was on January 4th of this year! It's only been a week, and it's been doing pretty well! I am proud of this progress, especially since views are like crack to me (sorry, was that a bad joke?).

I'm pretty astounded. I'll keep posting to Buzzfeed in the future.

Don't know if I was actually supposed to post this information, but whatever, no one is currently stopping me.

School starts up again next week. I've been trying to make up for the lost hours of production. I am currently at a Starbucks, watching stressed out grad students study, and study, and it's giving me anxiety, but more so a perverse sense of...enjoyment. Like, I enjoy the adrenaline rush of being in a learning environment. 

These past few days have have been dreadful at home. I know I will eat those words in a week, but for now, I don't care. 

Enjoy your last days of Freedom,

-E. 

I think I am in Love...With Me

So, despite the fact that I have been voluntarily caged inside of my brother's room this entire winter break, I think I want to make some changes. 

I have recently been sprung with the epiphany that I want to be more honest with myself this year. not that I haven’t been particularly honest, but honest, in a different sense of the word. I mean that I want to do things for myself primarily, before serving the needs of others. 

I got a taste of that by applying for, and enrolling in the college that I wanted to be in. But I found myself in some run-ins with my spiritual docket during the year.

This year was about making new relationships, building new bonds, and starting anew. Transforming in every sense of the word. But I do not feel like I was necessarily doing it for myself. A lot of the bad things I experienced were because Iw as serving the needs of others before I served myself. For instance, I’d find myself sitting through ridiculously long, meaningless conversations, taking the brunt end of criticism, being the awkwardest person at the table simply because I didn’t want to be along.

I will try harder to be alone.

My greatest fear is being alone. I may have inherited from my mother who happens to be the worst pokerface player in the universe (okay, so I hyperbolized the shit out of that one, but you haven’t met my mom), because she does not taking being along lightly at all, I won’t go into details on that, but just know that it is a huge deal for her.

I noticed this year that I clung for dear life to the growing wings of fellow friends and classmates, sometimes with undulating anxiety. I did it without consideration for their space, nor my own. I’d literally force myself into situations with people simply because I was afraid of being alone with my thoughts. 

These past two semesters (Summer and Winter), with the exception of living in the dorms and the enormous size of my college, I noticed that I’d always be around people, whether they were beneficial to my spiritual presence or toxic. I never strayed. My days were literally filled with continuous meetings, random outings, nonstop social interaction with people of all sorts.

While this is a major change from the person I used to be—extremely socially anxious, feared human touch to the extent that she’d isolate herself from human contact by running to the nearest library or empty room at all times—I don’t think it was necessarily helpful for me to focus on my own talents. I realized that I stopped writing (you may have noticed that I made one post in 2015, one of the most eventful years of my life thus far); stopped singing; stopped playing my violin; and most importantly, I stopped reflecting!

Okay… most of what I just said is a lie. I did most of these things, just through other outlets. But what I mean is that I didn’t do nearly enough of it as I had been doing in years prior. 

I will say that this year I became more expressive, and less afraid to show my vulnerable side. I cried when I wanted to, laughed when I needed to, and sang whenever the spirit moved me. 

Vulnerability, exploring my vulnerable side, was really the theme of 2015. One way I showed vulnerability was by taking thousands of pictures of myself. Whether candid or posing; I took them. Remember when I used to cringe at my own reflection? Well, I don’t do much of that anymore. I kind of served myself mouthfuls of my own image, but in moderation, so that I could develop a tolerance for myself. That makes me sound like a toxic substance, but I know that I am not one. I instead became a soft, cuddly, artistic black skinned beauty with eyelashes that are insanely long, and a smile that brightens up all rooms. 

I actually started complimenting myself. 

I think this was because I had control in the photoshoots. Giving myself ultimate control really taught me to control my negative self-talk, and to accept the completely normal human being that I am. 

I can’t say that I am completely cured of negativity, but I can definitely say that I have created milestones, and am probably closer to loving myself than ever have been. 

I’ve said it once before, and I will say it again: I think I am falling in love with myself. And that’s a good thing. 

With lotta love,

--E.

I posted on BuzzFeed!

Yeah, you read that title correctly, big shot. Check it out!


Cynical Article Placed Here

These Restaurants Are Racist As Hell: Shut 'Em Down!

I was waiting outside The Great Wall restaurant, located on College Avenue, looking at the menu taped on its window, exactly as some people are doing right now. I'm person who likes to marinate my thoughts before I act upon them, so I stood out there for about ten minutes. I noticed that the waitress kept passing by the window that I was looking into, but I thought that maybe she was just doing her rounds. Maybe I lingered for too long, I have no idea. 

I walked into the restaurant, tired as hell with a bag of groceries in my hand. I looked at the same waitress that had been watching me outside and she looked back, but not in a way in which I would have expected. She simply looked puzzled, and I could tell she was analyzing me because her gaze shot sporadically from my face to the food in my hands. Us looking at each other like this happened for a painfully awkward thirty seconds. I thought she would have said something at that point, but she didn't. She just retreated to the back of the restaurant to the kitchen. That was when things got awkward. Instead of being seated in this restaurant, I had to walk all the way to the front with my groceries in my hand. I was practically chasing after the waitress just so that I could ask her for a seat.  

I ask to sit somewhere, pointing in the general direction of the tables, but I am instead relegated to the Take Out Chairs, located right next to the cashier's desk. I felt strange being placed there because my intention was not for take out; I wanted a place to sit down and eat. Looking back, I now think I was placed there so they could watch me like I was a child.

All this time I kept thinking, "E., don't go there. It's not about race, it's not about race. Maybe you're just a strange customer seeing that you are by yourself and all."

The waitress and the cashier are staring--almost glaring--at me, and yet again I 

think "It's not what you think E., just come and be demanding, but be courteous."

"What are you having?" Asked the cashier. I placed my order, and the cashier, without looking at me, says that I'll have a ten minute wait. I say 'alright' and sit, once again in the Take Out Chairs. But then, after several minutes of experiencing a painful awkward feeling bubbling up inside me, I take the initiative to place myself at a table, and gallantly used their wifi (which I asked for). After a ten minute wait, I was given my food. A waiter comes up to me to tell me that my food is ready. I get up, foolishly leaving my laptop and bank card on the table behind me. The next event bugged me out. My food was wrapped in Take-Out, rather than the typical service. I was automatically given the take-out order. Even though I hadn't asked for it.

"Okay, that's it," I think. "I'm done with being civilized."

Now as we type, I am watching a fair skinned woman, eating alone just as I am, get served as if she were the pasty-white Duchess of Cambridge. I had to run to a seat right after they gave me my food--in take out trays, might I add. And the waitress keeps roaming, asking if everything is okay with everyone, except for me. And I keep seeing, I am facing the door. As each person walks through the door, they are immediately greeted with a question: "What are you having? Is that for here or to go?" Not awkward stares as if I were deranged madwoman who just reentered civilization after forty years of living in the woods. Am I jumping the gun? Should I say something? I am so afraid to even ask for a cup of water.

I got up to get water, and they just poured me a cup. I said thank you, and there was nothing. No communication, no unspoken reassurance. Nothing. Hospitality, my ass.

Did I seem threatening? I had my headphones on. I had groceries beside me. I was by myself. I am a five-foot-two plus-sized black woman with no athletic ability whatsoever-I cannot, in the least, seem threatening or harmful. That is unless you've got some prejudice linger inside that dense brain of yours that you think avoiding me because of the way I was born gives you justification to treat me wrong. In other words: you're a self-absorbed, prejudicial prick, who's internalized racism so hard, you wouldn't see it if it controlled your life.

After I sat in there for about two hours, the waitress finally came up to my table with a question.

"Are you done?" she asked.

Really? Are you fucking kidding me? She asked me if I was done. With what, exactly? Was I done with prejudiced bullshit and mitigating my feelings every fucking time someone did something obviously racist to me and other black people?

Yes, I am so fucking done, thank you very much.

I left that restaurant, huffing under my breath, saying that they were racist as hell and I was never coming back.

I wanted to say so much. I wanted to blame them for everything wrong in this country. I wanted to generalize their race. I wanted to confront the manager, but my anxiety would have overpowered me, and I would have been crying more than I was sitting and eating in that chair alone.

I was screaming on my way home. Screaming about injustice, because that was what I faced. 

This happened on January 1st. I hope that this isn't what the rest of the year will look like. 

Racial relations have got to change for the better in 2016.

Adieu,
E.

Freshman Chronicles: I Feel Good

Wow.

It's been a while since I have dusted off the old thinking gears and written something for myself in a while. This gesture has not been done out of the intention to offend, it's just that I've recently, barely, completed my first *official* semester of college.

Today I went back to my roots; I went to the library with my sibling. Though my card still has fines on it (I have a reckless past with libraries, I'm sorry, I can't help it), my sibling volunteered to get me some graphic novels. I grabbed quite a few.

I find it hilarious that I can pick out graphic novels faster than I can find food at the grocery store. I felt strange going back into the library. Nostalgia hit me hard, especially seeing all the books arranged the same way they had been since I left. I felt a ping in my stomach when I saw the flyers for volunteering opportunities and college scholarships. Just a year ago, I had been looking at that wall with stout determination and fear for my future. I also realized that pretty soon I won't be able to some of the things my teenaged self has been doing-- like being in the teen section of the library, or reaping the cool, free benefits of being too underaged to do anything. Sigh. Growing up is hard.

I felt so fulfilled at the library though. It really helped me gain back the confidence I needed. I was also feeling spiritually depleted; I notice that happens when I am not doing one of my famous artistic activities. This semester, I quenched my thirst by going down to the practice rooms in my unit, and plunking out jazz chords. Gosh, I've learned so much and it has helped so much. :)

Within the current stack of books I have next to me are the Saga series. I wasn't able to get the first volume because one of the librarians there is currently checking it out, but I do have Volume Two.

So far I think it is pretty entertaining. It doesn't go according to my graphic novel taste because it is a comic series, so it's got all the classic gags and storylines within storylines, but it's going more smoothly than I expected it to.

Something really nice happened when my sibling and I left the library. We bonded more than we usually do. I guess that my being absent has caused my family to miss me more than I thought it did.

We walked from the library back home, which is about a mile. It was around eight p.m., and the December air was stinging, and refreshing. We walked slowly, carrying groceries on our backs and library books in our hands. We're currently in that strange period between Christmas and New Years, so people's Christmas lights are still up.

I think it's cute. People's homes being wrapped up in sparkly fluorescent lights reminds me on decorations on cakes. I thought that the homes we walked by were so cute that I snapchatted some of them. But of course my phone camera is crappy quality, so the pictures just looked like sparkly dots in the middle of a jet black canvas, similar to stars and the universe.

My sibling laughed a lot at my so-not-funny jokes, and talked about their boyfriend. I, surprisingly, was not jealous hearing them fret over the cute memories they recalled as we walked by landmarks where they had walked before. I was really happy for them. I know that for so long my sibling has felt unloved by generally everyone they interact with, and for so long they have fended for themselves that they have developed a tough exterior (that only I can see through). It's nice to see them so happy and so vulnerable at the same time.

Right now it is almost four in the morning, and I am ironically listening to Janet Jackson's No Sleeep. It's cold, but comfy, snuggling weather.

I wish I was back at the dorm. There, I live with all black people, and let me tell you how much of a self-esteem booster it is to be there.

This semester was not my best academically, and I am afraid that I will not be able to pick up the pace. College is tough; and there were things that I could have controlled to prevent myself from being in the academically and financially dismal position that I am in right now. I hope that I can pull it together this semester because really like being in the school.

I think I also want to stop thinking so much about other people.

This semester I did too much of that, but in a different way than I did in high school. Back then, I thought so much about my family, but this time I think so much about friends, and mushy gushy things that I get distracted from thinking about my studies. Sure, I am young, and it's "normal" for me to screw up some things, and think this way, but I want to remain diligent. I am a strong believer in the mantra "if you don't use it, you lose it". So I will get back to that.

This year, 2015, in general was strange:

I graduated from high school (barely).
I got my braces off.
I got into a really good college (which is still hard to believe).
I came out to my friends in college. (I cried a lot for this one, and it felt great.)
I accepted my sexuality for what it was is.
I questioned my previous values, and chucked the old ones that weren't working.
I got have too many crushes on people.
I accepted my feelings as valid and human.
I managed my stress somewhat well this first semester.
I stopped cringing at the thought of meeting new people.
I performed in front of random people.
I accepted my shyness and awkwardness, and developed ways to work around it.
I made lots of new friends! According to facebook, it's exactly 237, but who's counting? :)
I started getting used to my face, so much to the extent that I have almost 4000 pictures of it in my laptop.
I had full conversations with people I wouldn't have caught myself dead speaking to in high school.
I opened a bank account.
I got a laptop!
I think I am falling in love with myself.

All of this stuff I have done on my own. So many milestones. A tremendous feat. Coming from my background, many do not expect it to happen. Of all the these things, I can say that I am proud of myself. I didn't mention that I also gained ten pounds (Freshman Fifteen is real, y'all), but I think I falling so much in love with myself that I could care if I weighed 900 pounds. I really mean this.

I am starting to accept some of the parts that are me--good, bad, and ugly--and live with them. My arms, legs, moles, acne, eyes, boogers, are all I've got. And hating every part of myself isn't going to make things better, so I am learning to accept them.

Like my roommate said, the journey self-love isn't easy, and there are those days when I don't feel it at all, but I am noticing that more of my days are filled with appreciation of myself rather than hatred, and, well, things brighten up that way. The change is that I adopt positive thinking, and do the things that make me most happy, like writing, and singing, and drawing, and listening to music. Accepting and giving compliments. Doing good deeds. Validating my feelings. Daring myself to do something. Being loud. Laughing. Living. And loving life. That's what I have been doing. And I think it is working. :)

I'm sorry that I have not written you in so long, but I think this post should pretty much explain how it has been these past few months. For the first time in my life, I can honestly say that I feel good and not feel weird about it. I'm gonna live on this high for as long as it lasts. :)

Song recommendation: Green & Gold by Lianne La Havas

Adieu,
E.