Quote of the Day

"I'm still blue-collar,

it's just a nice f*cking collar."

Comparing NOTES: 1 undergrad, 1 postgrad-both freshmen

This series is about the first year of school for an undergraduate student and a graduate student, respectively. Each week, the students will submit journal entries relating their experiences--highs, lows, frustrations, breakthroughs, epiphanies and all-nighters (let's pray there aren't too many of those).

1.5

Undergrad  09/12/10

Okay... so today is Sunday and I'm actually preparing myself for class tomorrow. I'm making sure my calculus homework is completed CORRECTLY. I'm officially caught up in my Intro to English Composition class, and History... *smh* that class should just be canceled due to its lack of organization. I STILL don't have a book for that class because the professor doesn't want to order them. He feels his lectures are good enough. I need to know FACTS, not just his theory of what happened. I don't know about anyone else, but when it comes to learning, it's exceedingly hard for me to retain info without a primary source. My professor talks way too fast and he stutters too much for me take informative notes (I still try though).

And now that I'm trying to control my academic life, my social one is falling apart. On Friday night my roommate, a couple of friends, and I attended 'Fashion Night Out' in NYC. I thought we all had a really good time. However, the next day my room mate text one of the girls that went with us to see what they had planned for the day, and she said nothing. But the other friend told me they were going to the beach. My roommate and I were a little offended because we DID invite them when we didn't have to. So now I've made a vow to myself, if I do all my work during the week, I will NEVER spend another weekend bored out of my brains EVER AGAIN. 

My 'campus boo' did make our relationship official on Sept. 1st, but I think it was a mistake. I didn't know you weren't suppose to hook up with the 1st cute guy that was your type on campus. Alegedly it's some kind of rule. Everyone keeps asking me why we date and we've only been living here for about a month. I mean, from what I can tell he doesn't have a problem with being in a relationship, but supposedly it's an unspoken rule that you don't seriously date anyone at least until the second semester. Well, who knew?! You learn something new in college everyday -___-

I wouldn't use the word "ingrate" or "pansy"--no, I wouldn't use those words exactly

 
“Like every respectable child of the psychoanalytic age, I want to take this opportunity to blame my parents.”—Shannon O’Keefe, It’s a Wonderful Lie
**

We didn’t ask to be born—we didn’t choose to be here. We had amateur parents. And? After the earth shattering revelation that our parents aren’t omniscient or perfect, at what point do we move on?  I think that once you deem your parents fallible, you can no longer hold them responsible.

I am not a parent. I’m only an older sibling, and even from this vantage point I can say that parenthood is hard.  You’re trying to relate but remain in a position of authority, assuring the younger ones that they will come out on the other side while attempting to remember what it felt like when it was you in the thick of it—the unending madness (both the anger and the crazy) of growing up. And it wasn’t even that long ago for me. Add to that the rapid rate of societal shifts and cultural transformation, and we have a damn-near complete breakdown in communication. Adults and young, not-quite-yet adults (children) are foreigners to each other; the cliché of “speaking a different language” is as close as it’s ever been to a literal interpretation. Try to hack into a son/daughter/sister/brother/niece/nephew/godchild’s laptop or phone and you may not understand what you find there anyway. Teachers face some of the same problems—how to prepare YAs for a future of challenges that don’t even exist yet.  Now, more than ever, children are validated in their complaints of “you don’t understand.” 

Fine, I can accept that, but I need them to accept this: THIS IS LIFE. And while I may not be savvy on the techniques of cyber-bullying or the peer pressure du jour, I’ve got more experience living than you. This is not me implementing some sort of hierarchy. I don’t believe in those, and we don’t need them. This is me simply saying that if I survived the paranoia, neurosis, insecurity, etc. etc. etc. of growing up (and still, from time to time, find my way through those obstacles as a "grown-up"), just maybe  word or two of what I have to say is worth listening to. The helicopter parenting only makes matters worse, it seems; the longer a parent hangs around, the more they can take the blame. My mom didn't wake me up…My dad forgot to write the check…blah, blah, blah cry me a river.

My dad used to tell this anecdote (I didn’t realize it was one at the time; I just thought it was a joke).  It went something like this:

Two friends are walking, when a bunch of guys approach and try to jump them (he’s not one for exposition, my dad). One friend turns to the other and tells him to run.

“Naw man!” he says, “I’m not a punk!”

So the one friend stays to fight the gang of guys, while the other runs away. When they see each other later, the tough guy friend is battered, bruised and pissed.

“How you just gonna leave me like that?!”

“I told you to run…”

“Man, I wasn’t about to run from those guys. You should’ve stayed to fight.”

“Well, my fault. You’re problem.”

I used to think, damn that’s cold. Not anymore. Regardless of where we put the blame, the onus is on us to find a remedy or coping mechanism.  So if your stage-mom is the reason you hate theater, or your overbearing coach-dad is to thank for the reason you avoid all sports like the plague, or any other person has ever hurt you or made you feel uncertain of yourself...Okay. It happened, and it sucks and we are affected. I honor that. I acknowledge that, but-- their fault, our problem. Now what?

**

“Resentment is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die.”—Malachy McCourt

**The image in this post is the result of a google image search for "Teen Angst". I think it's pretty hilarious**

"The 'F' Word"

Who am I, to call her oppressed?
How do I know that all she has
isn’t all she wants?
That all she is
isn’t all she every wanted to be?
Dreams change.
She is the center of her world,
so to hell with ours –
filled with wrongs we can’t seem to right.
Within her range, she affects change.
Improvement.
Enlightenment.
Revolution.
I come home every day,
leaving the world outside my door
exactly the way I found it.
But in a single day, she
has formed an opinion,
changed a mind, laid a foundation…
she has labored at love
and bore much fruit.
In her world, nobody’s hungry.
So to hell with ours.

Are you talking to me?

As I rushed through the halls at work yesterday morning, a building maintenance gentleman with a huge cart stopped short right beside me. Then I stopped. He said, "ladies first", and I almost tripped standing still. "Thank you," I said. As I scurried the rest of the way back to my desk, I had a flurry of feelings and thoughts. I’ll try to illustrate them:


“Ladies first” => was he being facetious? => Sojourner Truth’s “Ain’t I a Woman” => I wasn’t offended => it seemed genuine => race/class/gender (minus class in this instance) => should I have insisted that he go first? he was pushing a heavy load… => (so am I – Rimshot!) => is this chivalry or decency? => is there a difference? => was taking his cue an anti-feminist act? => maybe he wasn’t in a rush? => when did I become a lady? => woman, yes. lady? I don’t know => it was a nice gesture, at any rate => sometimes a cigar is just a cigar => I don’t smoke


Yep. That's pretty much the inside of my head at any given moment.

poetic license...

Yippie – n.  a term used to describe the young and upwardly mobile who despite their education, professional careers and relatively affluent lifestyles persist in expanding consciousness through nonconformist, unconventional and free-spirited behavior; a cross between a “yuppie” and a “hippie”; ex. It’s good that she’s buying local and handmade items, but that yippie spends way too much!