Future Plans

BLARGH I'm sorry it's been a week.  The past seven days have been extremely hectic, but I've been itching to just write again.  So now that I finally have the chance, let's get to it!

I went out to lunch with Zero and GoldenEye yesterday--we have a little tradition of grabbing some pizza between classes on Wednesdays.  The week before, I was unable to go with them so I had asked about what it was I'd missed.  Then, they exploded.

They explained their plan.  They have a plan that maps out the entire rest of their lives--they're to go into business together after they attend the same graduate school, formulating their mega-corporation the whole time while they are near and freshly educated.  Their corporation will do "everything.  Literally, everything."  It will have thousands of employees and hundreds of branches; it will be the biggest thing to hit America.  And every Wednesday, they would take all their interns out to lunch for pizza and discuss business, the future, politics, economics, etc.  They were formulating traditions for their futures, mapping out their lives, placing themselves years away with a crystal clear image.  It was wishful thinking and high hoping, but they knew exactly what they wanted and they were ready to go get it.

It hit me right then.  This is life, and it's coming at me way faster than I want to accept.  I don't have that clear picture, I don't have a direct path I intend to take.  I have no post-graduate plans.  The extent of my life is in school, and that's all I've got.  And I can't tell if I love that or hate that!  LIFE is so close... this is it.  This is the final stretch.  Everything is the final stretch... and there's never any stopping and going back.  Ever.  Life carries on.  It can end in an instant, it can last forever.  It can end up the exact opposite of how you always imagined, it can go exactly how you want it to.  It can take a million unpredicted turns, it can be mapped out any which way in the garden of forking paths.  But Life is facing me head on.  Whether I'm curled up in a ball or running at full-speed, Life is straight ahead.  Life is staring me down.

It's kind of terrifying.  It's kind of exhilarating, too.

This is a little spacey and a little out there--it doesn't really make logical sense.  It's just a stream of consciousness because I have a lot of difficulty channeling these thoughts and feelings.  So, I'm sorry about that.  But hey, it's what's on my mind!

"Contemplate" by TheSophiaPark (http://thesophiapark.deviantart.com/)

Rambling,
The A.S.S.

Thanksgiving 2010

It was a quiet Thanksgiving.  We slept in, had some bagels and coffee, flipped through the channels, and never changed out of our sweatpants.  No extended family came, we never left the house, we didn't cook laboriously for endless hours, we kept it much more low-key than usual this time around.  And I was okay with it.  An hour or so after dinner, we put on a movie and tossed in some popcorn--we were feeling adventurous.

I adore Thanksgiving.  I think it is a beautiful holiday, including of everyone (when looking past the genocide aspect and focusing solely on the notion of being thankful), and a time that truly calls for some inflection.

The See-Saw Effect

BLOODY HELL.

It's starting.  My life was going SO well for such a long run that I was thinking I was finally doing everything right.  But now, as per usual, the universe has turned and bad luck is following me everywhere.  I had a wonderful summer and the beginning of school was amazing.  Everything was great and grand and I felt just generally awesome about life.

But the shit started happening again.  It began with me losing my license on the subway when I brought it as a precaution to avoid problems.  Then, I poured expired milk on my bowl of cereal. Then, I go through a week of insomnia.  Then, something I've been waiting to buy myself is FINALLY restocked and as soon as I FINALLY get it, it breaks on the walk home.  Then, when out at a lovely dinner, I get this horrible headache that just will NOT go away and keeps getting worse and worse until my vision is blurring, I lose all appetite, become terribly lethargic and apathetic, and my entire body starts shaking.  Then, I lose my room key in class.  Then, I get violently ill for a few hours at home.  Then, I completely misread my midterm assignment and have to restart it all over again.  ACK!

It's what I can only think of calling the see-saw effect.  Life seems to go in these cycles for me--a bout of good and a bout of bad.  What's weird, however, is that the magnitude is generally always equal.  So, since I've been having such a good, decent time and lifestyle over the past few months, I suppose the universe decided that my time was over and I needed to be brought back down.  My good side of the see-saw had peaked and I needed to swing low, bringing the bad side up.  And quickly.

I just hope that the rapidity of the bad things--though each small but sharp pangs--will equate to the lengthiness of my decent months, and this down swing will lighten up soon.  I'm okay with an alright life.  I just hate this part right here where everything seems to suck ass.

Taken from http://jerzeykat.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d4dcp7

Waiting for my upswing,
The A.S.S.

Gratuitous Boy Talk

Time to talk about boys!  As much as I hate to dump this out on a blog, I promised to do just that.  And what blog of a college girl would be complete without boy talk?

So!  There are three I'd like to tell you all about.  One of them you already know!  You remember Peachy Keen?  Cool.

Let's begin, yes?  We'll start from what we know.

And NOW It's Rejection.

The weekend is over, so NOW it's rejection.  Here's the story:

I met a guy at a party a few weeks ago.  I thought we had really hit it off, talking extensively, enthusiastically, and understandingly.  I felt this deeper connection from the get-go, which basically never happens to me.  I couldn't help it, but there was this great sense that he actually understood me.  And few people understand me--hell, I barely understand me.  So when we hit it off so well, I was intrigued.

I wanted to talk for hours, but he had to leave.  So I waited a few days and my friend who had introduced us encouraged me to keep in touch with the guy.  My friend insisted he was one of the greatest guys he knew and I should absolutely go for it.  So, with the guidance of my friend, I facebooked him and waited a few more days to send a message.  The message expressed my interest but left it an open-ended question--I gave him my number and told him to contact me anytime.  The ball was in his court.  And then came the waiting game.

I sent it exactly a week ago.  I figured maybe he would be quick to send a response with few details but a clearly illustrated interest--nothing.  My guy friends said to wait it out over the weekend, because that's when you would actually do something, if anything.  So I waited.  I waited and avoided using the term.  Well, it's Monday now.  And not a single word from him.  The weekend is over, so now it's rejection.

And cue the standard emotional struggle!  Do I pursue further, do I try to just be friends?  Is he a douchebag for not even saying a damn word to me, do I just push him from my mind and move on?  Oh, the politics of flirtation.  I really just don't know how to play the game at all.  Another plunge, another rejection.

Put it on my tab.

http://silvermercury.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d10iyru

Alone once again,
The A.S.S.

Like a Spring Phoenix

One day not too long ago, I stepped outside. I was shocked by what I saw.

Whistle Wonders

As I walk down the street, I'm frustrated and angry and upset and generally in a bad mood. Things are pretty shitty so I'm walking it out, storming down the street. My muscles are tensed up; if you'd said anything to me, I would've walked right by. I was NOT a happy camper.

Then I heard whistling. It wasn't a particularly nice day out, and Hall & Oates wasn't playing over loudspeakers somewhere, so I assumed that people wouldn't automatically be happy and smiling and whistling. But someone was. Who was happily whistling?! I needed to know who and why.

Study Lounge Mayhem

As I sit in a lounge area of the student center, I notice several types of students. The studious ones, the socialites, the lovebirds, the slackers, the obnoxious, and the "I'll take what I can get"s.

It's Clapton, BITCH

A little while ago, I had the fortunate pleasure of seeing Jeff Beck and Eric Clapton in concert. To say the least, it was an experience. Such pioneers in the music scene live and right there in my face was just incredible. The show did lack some iconic songs, such as "Layla," but was nonetheless a fabulous show and performance. I by no means left the Garden with a lack of musical satisfaction and elation.

But the musical euphoria was interrupted on my way out by a woman who I can only nickname as Clapton BITCH. This may seem harsh and callous, but she was a bitch. She was a perfectly stereotypical ditz. Fake blonde hair, fake boobs, obviously fake Coach purse, corn-chip nail tips (not really, but hideously fake), heels so high and uncomfortable she had that very noticeable I-have-to-lean-forward-to-attempt-to-walk-because-if-I-don't-I-know-I-won't-make-it-anywhere waddle, etc. And the man she was with was this big, rugged, tough looking guy who just kept a completely blank face the whole time she was bitching at him.

And she would NOT stop BITCHING at this poor man! He clearly dished out a LOT of money for probably the biggest show in all of Manhattan that night, and she was standing there, endlessly complaining about it! Talk about ungrateful. She kept insisting Clapton should have played more acoustic songs. He opened with about five or six consecutive ones. She bitched that he didn't play "Layla." Okay, well he has SO MANY hits, he's bound to not play ONE of them. She proceeded to say Clapton played "too much of that new shit." Well, lady, he is touring NOW and not THEN. "Jeff Beck shouldn't have stayed on as long as he did. And there was NO reason for him to come out again at the end and stay for so many songs!!" Ma'am, he was the opening act and played an appropriate number of songs as such. He came out at the end to play with Clapton because they got their starts with each other. Without each other, without the Yardbirds, neither of them would be where they are now. And the best part, she left off with this gem:
"Next time, we should go see 'WICKED!!'"
Complete with jazz hands and all.

I wanted to scream. Okay, yes, I have seen 'Wicked;' yes, it was a good show. But not crazy great, as many critics had led me to believe it would've been. I can appreciate Broadway very much--I have substantial experience in acting and I can absolutely cherish all the work and dedication every individual show takes. ...but does a popular Broadway show about teenage acceptance and fairy tales and love and cheesy shit really outrank Eric Clapton?? Seriously? Come on, lady.

Where have our values gone? We don't cherish the pioneers, the raw talent that created so many followers and grew so many branches of variations, the very men who shaped so much of music that today would not be the same had they not done what they did. Instead, we cherish make-up, fancy dresses, and splendor. So I guess this post is turning into a "oh, the superficiality of it all!" one. In all seriousness, this woman exemplified superficiality to me. From her appearance to her tastes, all of which she showed me in a matter of seconds, this woman was trash to me.

Call me a bitch for being so judgmental of her, but honestly. When someone conforms THAT much to societies pressures and stereotypes, something HAS to be wrong. Be it a lack of confidence, a personal image issue, a superiority complex, whatever, no one is naturally like this. No one naturally thinks those huge fake nails actually look good. No one thinks their platinum blonde hair looks real, especially when their roots are showing a deep brown. No one thinks that a Coach bag with only backward "C"'s looks authentic. No one can say and believe that an Eric Clapton concert was a waste of time and money. She is the epitome of conformation. She believes "all you need are looks and a whole lot of money." She thinks that bigger boobs are better, blonde is prettier, those shoes flatter her, the purse makes her look fancy, and loud-mouthing her bashing opinions of Clapton to all the people herding out of the arena will make her stand out and be intellectual and different and smart and superior. Wrong. SO WRONG! You look fake, handicapped, stupid, and just plain pathetic.

So, I suppose the motivational, activist message of this all is to just stop. Stop valuing lame shit that everyone else says you should value because it's popular right now, at this moment. Stop glorifying the sparkling, glittered, beautified stuff and glorify the ground-breakers, the innovators, the milestones. Stop conforming to societal pressures regarding your physical appearance and if you truly want to change yourself, do it in a way that YOU WANT and that will compliment you, not the way that you see on TV. Stop dissing men who may very well be past their prime but are still extremely capable and still ridiculously talented and still deserve nothing less than respect for their incredible accomplishments. Dig in, get down and dirty, and value the roots of today's foliage.

I apologize for this post being more emotionally driven and less artistic and well-written. A bit of a rant, yes. A bit of a commentary on modern society, yes. A denunciation of superficiality, yes. A judgment call, yes. A statement on musical legitimacy, yeah. But was it my honest opinions? Absolutely. This is my blatant, blunt truth. While "everybody's talkin' 'bout the new sound," "it's still rock n' roll to me."

Clapton, you had a brilliant show.
The A.S.S.


Disclaimer: As is the case with everyone, my judgments are not always accurate, and I am not claiming them to be. At that very same concert, a bassist came out to play with Jeff Beck. She was this gross looking lady with 80's hair, a leather sleeveless top, TIGHT pants, and KILLER heels. My first reaction (before I saw those BALLER heels) was "dyke," no joke. Yes, offensive, but I'm sure many people would've thought the same. Then she started playing. And she fucking ROCKED that whole arena. She was amazing! One of the best bassists I've ever seen! She absolutely blew me away. Her name is Rhonda Smith, for the record, and she's boss.

Good Wine, Great Friends, and a Kitchen Table

I've been gone for awhile, I'm sorry. A LOT of stuff came up out of nowhere, basically, and my life got flipped upside down for a few weeks there. I am now coming out of my spring break and hopefully, things will get back to normal. But t
hat's why I've been hiatus. Shit hit the fan; I didn't take it too well. Maybe I'll write about that stuff at some point in the future, but no guarantees.

Let's get back to business, shall we?

So, my mother decided to host a birthday party for her friend. Although her crowd's idea of a birthday party has included strippers in the past, the approach tonight was more subtle. Just a quiet night in with a few friends from the neighborhood, home cooked foods, a cake, and a lot of wine. No men, just the ladies. Since I'm home for break, my mother invited me to take part, apparently feeling guilty to not be spending time with me. Despite the caddy drama that ensued after the hanger-on decided to bring her 6-year-old child along with her, the evening was very lovely. Lots of laughter, good food, good conversation, stories and jokes were flying. Once the cake came out, the birthday girl raised her glass and made a toast so moving, it brought tears to my eyes.

Her back-story, she is finally conquering breast cancer. After fighting it for years, she is clear and about to have her port removed. She is turning 51 this year, but due to the cancer, she did not want to celebrate her 50th last year. So not only was this party a "Yay, you're 50 (belated)" party, but a "You beat cancer and we couldn't be happier" party.

Obviously, I don't remember the speech verbatim, but I'll do my best to put it back in her words.

"I just want to thank you all so much for this evening. After my whole ordeal, I've learned just how incredibly lucky I am. I've re-evaluated so much in my life and have realized that there is very little that is genuinely important to me. Besides my family, of course, the only other thing that truly matters is my friends. You girls. I can't say I would have made it without you all. I cannot stress enough how much you all mean to me and how much of a difference a few good friends can make in someone's life. So thank you all, thank you, thank you endlessly. For this party, for being there for me, for supporting me through this all, for just being my friends. I love you all, truly."

Everyone around the table nodded in agreement and I knew the sentiment was mutual.

Her speech was beautiful, impromptu, and so genuine that of course I felt it and believed it. And everyone has those few close friends they can go to for anything. But her speech got me thinking--who would these people be in my case? Do I even have these friends? Do I have anyone who truly cares about me the way this room cares for this woman? And honestly, I'm not entirely sure that I do.

When I thought about it, I can only think of two friends who would come if I called, but that's about it. Maybe three, but I'm not sure. I'm so used to being the third wheel in groups, being the one that doesn't really make a difference, that I guess I stopped trying and stopped caring. I've realized through the past few years that my groups of friends never really cared about me. If they made plans, I was never personally invited. I'd only be invited if I contacted the host myself or if one random person happened to remember me. Generally though, I had to ask to be included in anything. I was never missed. My absence was not an issue, my presence was not a pleasure--I was just a whatever. And this trend has continued into college. I thought for sure things would change once I moved away from home and was immersed in a new environment, but things are the exact same. While Malibu and Ritz go NUTS for each other and freak out when they're separated, they could care less whether I'm with them or away from them. My roommate never comes into our room to just sit and chill and talk, but always goes to Ritz's, where Malibu will always be too. They sit there for hours and I just wait to see if maybe they call for me or anything. And they just never do. There are a million examples I could share, but I don't want to dive into too much detail.

Have I not made an impact on the lives of my friends? Am I just not an interesting, fun enough person? What is it that I'm doing wrong that makes people completely apathetic towards me? I don't know. I don't know why my social life is the way it is and the way it has been for years. I don't know who would be sitting at the table with me forty years from now drinking wine and toasting my cancer survival. Perhaps I'm not meant to know yet and that'll all come with time and settling down somewhere.

It just makes me nervous to see the people around me all so deeply tied into relationships. I am the only single person left in my entire family. Many of my friends are dating and if not, they have that solid, core group of friends. I don't have either. Yes, I have my family, but I can't rely on them for everything. I need to break away and become my own person. It makes me incredibly nervous that I'm truly doing something horribly wrong. Don't get me wrong, I couldn't be happier for the ones in my life that have that security and those relationships. And I hope that my friends view me as one of those people, as someone they would sit at their tables and drink away with because I most certainly would go to the end of the earth and beyond for them if they ever called. I just hope that--when my time comes--I'll have a bottle of red, a bottle of white, and those amazing friends filling my kitchen table.

I'll come when you call,

The A.S.S.

I'm Singing in the Snow

Again, I've been slacking. My apologies once more, things have been pretty busy.


Music makes everything better. Truly. It's an odd phenomenon that happens when metered, rhyming words are paired with a melody. Something inside gets going, gears start churning, and an entire day can be turned around. A new mood can arise. A skip in your step can appear. A smile might sneak its way out. Music inherently possesses an incredible ability to make everything better.

The weather last week was frightful, but my music made it so delightful. Streets were sloshy and wind was howling and snow was pelting my face, coating my clothes and seeping through my jeans. NYC was being blasted by another round of February snow, as 2010 has seen all too much of. I didn't want to take out my mp3 player for fear of water damage, but decided I needed it anyway.

With it firmly tucked into my jacket pocket, my hand holding it securely as an extra safeguard, I stuck my headphones in both ears so as to keep the wind out. Usually, I only wear one bud so I can hear what's happening around me on the streets--because I'm safe like that--but today was different. I turned it on, set it to random shuffle play all, and pressed play. Immediately, as if my player knew, it put on the one song that can ALWAYS make me feel incredible.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2seAJsrtIbQ
Thank goodness I had both buds in. Instantly, I perk up. With the music completely enveloping me, I start dancing to myself, just like in that video (great movie, by the way. Definitely see it.). I'm singing along, twirling down the street, and things are great.

Next song to come up, "A Walk Through Hell" by Say Anything. Again, another song that can make me feel wonderful. And it was pretty applicable to the times, even if it was talking about fire rather than ice. I pushed repeat about three or four times on the way to my next class!

Once I finally let go of Say Anything, song after song of great rhythms, awesome bass beats, and catchy melodies were coming up. And yes, the two examples I gave are poppy, happy songs, but some sadder, sweeter songs came up too in addition to some harder, heavier rock songs. All of it just worked though. Instead of huddling and shielding myself, I was looking up and smiling at the snowflakes. Sometimes, the world is a lot prettier the more you get to look at it.

Once I finally got home and changed into not-wet clothes, I thought about what had just happened. I realized that I would have been completely miserable at that exact moment had it not been for my music. I literally danced the entire way home all because of some random songs. Out of thousands of songs, every one that came up put me in some new mood that made the outside world and outside weather just fade away. The songs seeped into me and I melted into them.

This odd blending of body and soul and mind and music is universal, I feel, when we let it happen. So many times, we seek refuge in our music. We seek solace or comfort. We seek inspiration or motivation. We seek confirmation or explanation. Music is more than just words or a tune. Music has a wonderful power to it that I fall so short of explaining. All I know is that music has helped me through many things in my life, as trivial as snow to as grave as deaths. I've gone to music for fun, for boredom, for love, for inspiration, for comfort, for help, for just about anything you can think of.

We run to it, we work to it, we dance to it. Music is all around us. Music is in us. Music can become us and we can become music. Music can create. Music can change. Music can embrace. Music can heal. Music is otherworldly. So next time you're having a bad day, just put on some Hall & Oates. I promise, you'll feel better.

Singing in the streets,
The A.S.S.

Insomniac Revelations

So lately, I've been having a LOT of trouble trying to fall asleep at night. I don't know why, but it's been pretty bad. I'd lie in bed for hours, struggling to fall asleep, watching movie after movie in an attempt to ease my mind. If I did sleep, I'd sleep for two hours, max, and then wake up for no reason. Then, I couldn't fall back asleep for at least three and a half hours, if at all. Simply terrible.

Why was this happening? I'm eating better, I'm being a much better student, getting all of my work done earlier so I'm not staying up later, doing little exercises while I have large amounts of reading, etc. I've been very pro-active and healthy and I've been very proud of myself. ...But I can't sleep. Lying there in bed for hours every night made me keep thinking, "What a waste of time. I could just get up and go write a paper or something, but I really just want to go to sleep." And it's SO FRUSTRATING.

So I got to thinking, there HAS to be a reason for this. It's not like I was drinking lots of caffeine right before I go to sleep, jacking myself up on sugar or anything. It wasn't anything physical that I was doing. I had finally gotten myself into a healthy routine, so why was it going wrong?

A routine. Maybe that was it. I sort of always lacked a routine--I like doing things in whatever way I so choose, rather than being bound to one strict method. Now that I had a routine, my mind was going crazy at night. I was using my time during the day to do all my work and just going straight to bed. Maybe this was a sign for my to stop the mundane. Stop the routine. Be spontaneous again. To not conform to the routine of the working world just yet. Be fun and do my work while still making time for me.

Do what needs to be done, but never forget about yourself. Yes, the rest of the world is out there and there are expectations for you, but don't dedicate yourself solely to them. You need your own time too. Don't abandon yourself at the price of your happiness and sanity. Even if it's just ten minutes, do it.

Yours,
The A.S.S.

Rain Pains

Yes, I know I slacked over the weekend, and it's only been one week, but in my defense, I did say that I couldn't guarantee a daily post, only that I'd try to. The weekend got a little busy, so I failed at the daily thing, but I don't think anyone really cares. So whatever.

Today, it rained. And it was that really obnoxious rain that makes it look like it's kind of misty and barely raining, but by the time you walk two blocks, you're already soaked. That kind of rain. And, as any city-goer knows, umbrellas are a futile effort, so you've just gotta tough it out.

I look outside the window after I wake up late and realize the state of the weather. I do NOT want to go to class. But, I get myself out of bed and sport a wool hat (they're good at keeping the water out), a hoodie with the hood pulled over my hat, and my pea coat. I look down at the perfect angle to shield my face from the rain but to also be aware of what is coming up ahead. I don't want to get poked in the face by someone's umbrella, seeing as everyone who does choose to sport one fails to realize it is an attachment to themselves and recklessly wave them at fellow pedestrian's eyes.

Even with all my protection and my perfect defense angle, the wind seemed to pick the rain up and whip it right at my face. Directly. Head on. From a downward angle. If I looked up to lessen the blow, the wind decided to blow the rain horizontally. I turned corners and walked down streets I knew to be less windy than others. Nope, no difference. Everywhere I went, the wind and the rain kept attacking me. All the while, I keep thinking I should've just stayed back home where it was dry and warm.

I finally get to class and our pre-class discussion consists of everyone sharing the same sentiment. We all sat, half-joking and half-infuriated with Mother Nature. The weather seemed to love messing around with us, if not just simply hate us. The professor walks in and class begins, and thankfully, it was a very interesting and heated class discussion.

As class ended, I put all my gear back on and prepared myself for the battle I was about to forge in my attempt to get back home. I angle my head down, adjust my hood and hat, brace myself for impact, and step outside of the building. But nothing happened. It was still raining, just as hard as it had been before, yet it wasn't attacking me. It was just gently dancing this time. It was less vicious, more inviting. And the wind never once picked up on my way back. The only gusts there were were on my back, helping me get home faster and easier.

Once I got back and changed into dry clothes, I thought about it. Nature put up such a fight, trying desperately to deny me the chance to go anywhere. But once I battled through it, it sent me on my way back home with no objections.

This can be seen as a "home will always welcome you back, don't be afraid to go back home" sort of thing, I suppose. But I see it more like "Fight through it, persevere" sort of thing. I thought so many times about not going or turning around, but I just went anyway. As it turned out, I had two very great classes today, despite the trouble it took to get there. You can sit at home and remain status quo, no harm done. But pushing through it, surviving the struggle, and working towards something will reward you. It may be small, it may not even be apparent at first, but some tiny reward will result from the fight. So always battle. Always fight. Keep going and push through it. I know walking through rain is the lamest universal metaphor for the struggles that life can bring about, but it's still applicable. Just keep pushing forward. If you can't, home will be there waiting and the walk back will be fine. But you'll never know what could've been unless you just dive into the forward motion.

Stay strong,
The A.S.S.

The Olympian Gods

Today marks the one-week anniversary of the 2010 Olympics! And what a week it's been. The Olympics are easily one of my favorite things ever. When I watch the opening/closing ceremonies and an American win a gold, I always get chills. And that music! The theme song, when they play "The Star Spangled Banner," ugh! Honestly, it's not uncommon for it all to make me teary-eyed as well. Something about the Olympics is so spectacular and so unimaginable that watching them puts me in this extremely surreal and spacey mood.

First, the opening ceremonies. The ceremony itself is always beautiful. It's so true and authentic and so evoking and it always fools me into feeling as if I am or desiring to be a citizen of that country. And when the Olympics officially start, the world seems to stop, just for a moment, and welcome everyone. Mankind is somehow magically unified when the Olympics begin. It's mind-blowing to me. So many hostilities are just pushed away and forgotten, even if only for two weeks. The Olympics have curing powers.

Second, simply being a competitor there must be completely mind-blowing! I mean, I know everyone who's there deserves it and has worked incredible amounts to be there. All the same, however, I canNOT imagine that dedication and perseverance. I've never been enough about anything that I was willing to dedicate the rest of my future life to it! It's just so incredibly admirable that these people have that quality. Additionally, this choice they have made is so unstable--one bad crash and your career could be out the window. One minor slip up, and you could be instantly out of the running, and maybe you don't get to come back next time. If it's really bad, as we saw with the tragic loss of the Georgian athlete, your life could be taken. Athletes, to me, are perhaps the bravest and biggest risk-takers out there.

Third, the event itself. The nerves these players must be undergoing! SO incomprehensible! I mean, sure, I've had my moments where I know people are watching me and there's pressure to be perfect, but there's no comparison. The Olympics? The gathering of the world's greatest athletes? All eyes on you, TV cameras, millions watching YOU from all across the world. I don't know if I'd ever be able to handle that sort of pressure. Again, only the deepest respect to these athletes.

Fourth, the results. It takes an incredibly strong person to come to a competition after consistently being one of the best, and then being told you're less than. Those who handle it with dignity and professionalism have all my respect in the world.
(SIde note: Plushenko, you got the silver because you couldn't execute your tricks well. Suck it up and admit defeat. And by defeat I mean second best IN THE WORLD. Calm down. We all know that that was what you were thinking, but professionalism needs to step in and overcome your gut reaction because you were given immense respect and you need to reciprocate it. Punk.)
Winners, on the other hand, are another story. Of course, I expect them to be courteous and respectful of the other competitors, but winning an Olympic gold (or getting any medal, for that matter) is truly an unparalleled life event. The moment they realize that they've won and it's caught on film, my heart melts. I can't even imagine that moment. Realizing that YOU are the best in the whole world. ...that's so insane! I once had the honor of being named best in my state, and that put me on top of the world! To be the absolute best, unrivaled by anything on this planet, is such an honor and such an incredible achievement that it is IMPOSSIBLE to undermine these people.

Fifth, the closing ceremonies. I can only imagine how an experience like the greatest sporting event in the world and becoming a piece of this ongoing history can change someone. Being in a place like that with people like that at a time like that must be absolutely unbelievable. It would truly be a milestone in someone's life, a moment that is impossible to forget, and closure for whatever events may have happened in that strange place and strange circumstances.

I love the Olympics. I love what they can do to a person, a country, the world. I love what they represent, I love the passion they display, I love everything about them. I think everyone can learn something from these people--be it sportsmanship, dedication, passion, perseverance, professionalism, composure, mind power, etc. These people are truly role models and authentically outstanding men and women worthy of all the praise we have to give; I can't say I've met many people who I feel the same way about. So, to you Olympians, I respect you all so deeply that I have difficulty finding the words to express myself. You're amazing and you represent so much to all of us back home, so thank you for being such incredible people. We love you and we back you 100%.

Sincerely yours,
The A.S.S.

(And I would assign 12 Olympians to the 12 Olympian Gods, but the Olympics aren't over yet so that simply wouldn't be fair! =) But super kudos to all the medalists and to all who have done so well!)

We are Stardust

My professor today was singing Joni Mitchell as he was getting ready to start the class up. I'm not all too much of a fan, so I was unfamiliar with the lyrics, but one line stood out to me.

"We are stardust."

As cheesy as it is to focus on something so metaphysical, it truly caught my attention.

I love space and have always been fascinated by our universe. I find it so impossible to comprehend in every way--how we got here, what lies beyond the boundaries, where the boundaries are, the sheer magnitude of our universe, life beyond our tiny speck of existence, etc. Although I'm sure I've forgotten many of the things I was once told, several have stuck with me to this day. One thing I remember being taught is that every atom in existence, every part of our being, was one part of a star. The air we breathe, the food we eat, our skin and bones and heart and brain, all of it. Everything we know was once part of that celestial sphere we see as so intangible and so distant.

How can it be that the most incomprehensible, unrelatable, distant things are what created us? Stars, those massive burning superclouds are the same as us, and we are the same as them. It's just something odd to think about.

Additionally, the line is so simple. So definitive. There's no doubt, no logic that leads to it--just the statement. And I mean, it IS a fact that we are the particles of stars, but we never think of ourselves that way. And so many of us, when thinking about the universe, look at ourselves as these tiny, infinitesimal grains with no significance. But I feel that this lyric can inspire just the opposite.

We are stars. We are that which has mesmerized and stunned and fascinated billions of people for millions of years. We create solar systems and galaxies. We shine and when together, we can create something truly beautiful and truly magnificent. We are worlds within ourselves. We are our own worlds. We can learn every corner of ourselves, yet we are also bigger and more than we can ever comprehend.

I guess my message is this: screw the rest of the universe. Focus on your own world. The people you meet, the lives you become a part of, those form a universe. And our existence is more than we can imagine. We are not infinitesimal. We have the power to form worlds and change lives and shape futures and create true beauty. If I had never had just one of my siblings or one of my friends in my life, I know I would not be the same person. Every person is powerful, influential, consequential.

So when in doubt, think of one inside joke you have with your best friend. Think of one home video your parents filmed. Think of one present you gave someone. Remember the memories you've been a part of and know that you have contributed to a universe bigger than you know. We don't have to be world famous to be important or significant. We are stardust.

The Necessary Evil

Hello, anyone who might be reading this. I have to gain some sort of street-cred before I get this going, right? Or else, who would ever give a damn what I have to say. Well, in all honesty, I don't have any street-cred. Seriously. I literally am just another girl. I'm a college student privileged enough to be studying in New York City, and I realize every day more and more how blessed I am to be here. Besides living in such an amazing city, I don't see myself as being anything too above average.

So why would I start a blog, with the intention of having people read it. Well, in case anyone is interested in what life really is like for so many of us, I'll be writing about it here. It's not the movies. It's not the books or TV shows. It's what really happens every day on the streets, in the dining halls, in the dorms rooms, in cities, wherever. It's not explosions and car races and love scenes and picture-perfect moments; it's the people you meet, the things you see, the stories you hear and share and create, the revelations you come to, the places you make a life out of, time passing by, unrequited love, music and art, secrets and drama, desire and passion, pain and reality, and it's so much more. But, it's just life. So welcome to it.

So just a few explanations to go up before I get this thing rolling. I'm going to keep things anonymous on here so as to protect anyone from harm, revealing secrets, etc etc, all that jazz. I want to be completely free to say the whole truth, no limitations. I'll have code names and introductions and what not so it won't be "and then the first guy told the guy who came in the room twenty minutes after us that the chick in the pink halter top is totally into him, according to pink-halter-top-chick's best friend, that girl with the lipstick and red stilettos" blah blah. I'm going to attempt to write frequently, no matter how trivial, because that's what this is about. My goal is to write daily, if possible. Of course, studies come first, so if I don't get to it, I hope you forgive me. Not that I think this blog will really be all that important to anyone out there. But anywho, all I plan to do is report on everyday things, maybe add some commentary of my own, and just invite any followers into this world so many people share with me. I do hope to write an entry later in the night, but I have some work to finish up. So, here's to hopefully talking to whoever you are later.

Prost.
(I don't have any sort of cool blogger name yet. I'm working on it.)