As a college student, I've noticed a lot of things that irritate me: early morning classes, slow buses, and bad coffee, to name a few. But the one thing that drives me into a frenzy of rage every time is the fact that there are so many students who refuse to put the work into their classes, who see college as four years of binge drinking, who don't want to be there. It baffles me that so many people would spend thousands of dollars on something that they could easily do for $20 at a bar.
Putting yourself in massive debt just to get any old degree slapped onto your name may seem cool now, but it's not gonna be so cool when you can't buy that sweet new car because oh wait, you have to pay off your college loans.
Why are you here? Why? I mean, it's great that you're making it easier to get an A in classes and everything (honestly in some classes you just have to show up and you impress the pants off your professor), but you're also decreasing the value of a college degree. Plus you're making that whole hope for humanity thing a little more difficult.
The thing is, however, that thousands of people didn't just suddenly get the idea to hop out of high school and throw themselves into college life without considering what college even meant. There's this new expectation that going to college is simply the next step, a branch of high school. And the percentage of people who actually want to be in high school is VERY VERY LOW, thus making the percentage of people who want to be in college the same. Classes turn into a competition of who can not do the reading more, and who can sit in silence and make awkward eye contact the longest.
During my first semester of freshman year, the one girl in my class who raised her hand to answer questions and seemed, y'know, enthusiastic about school, literally got mocked and picked on by at least half the class. That doesn't just make class miserable; it's straight up cruel. The fact that we have to tell adults not to bully the Hermiones of the world is really depressing.
So to the people who don't want to be in college, guess what? You don't have to be. Go party every night for a year until you get sick of throwing up jager shots. Go get a part time job at a restaurant and suffer through bad tips and obnoxious customers. Go on Breaking Bad marathons until your eyes bleed. You're an adult. You have the freedom to choose how you want to live your life--even if your parents strongly encourage you to do the whole college thing, they can't force you to.
However, while my original thought was that some people just aren't meant for college, I've had somewhat of an attitude shift in the past year. The biggest difference in college that I've noticed is that you don't just learn a bunch of facts and spit them back out on an exam (well, sometimes you do, *cough science cough*); you learn to think critically, to think outside yourself, to have a different worldview.
In my Women's Studies class, I had already established that I was well versed in feminism. It made sense, seeing as a was a woman who had experienced varying degrees of sexism in the past. But when we looked at institutionalized racism and how race affects our experiences as people, I realized that up until that point, I was a "yeah girl" of racism: I knew it was bad, I was all "yeah, that really sucks," but I hadn't stopped to think about how it feels to be a racial minority, to experience racial injustice every single day.
And really, I wouldn't have thought this way until somebody pointed it out to me. It didn't make me a bad person before; it just made me a little more uneducated.
My point is, if you can financially swing it, you should go to college. Just not immediately. We're a generation of right nows, but in the end, that does more harm than good. Are you really going to remember what that one professor said about literary theory when you were blacked out the night before? It's amazing how much more the brain can remember when you actually want to be there and are eager to learn. Sure, it sounds cheesey, but I think we can all afford some cheese when we're shelling out $20,000. At some point, you will be ready to go to college. Maybe it won't happen until you're 60 years old, in which case, go when you're 60.
Every single returning adult student I've met has been excited to do the reading, to go to class, to just be there. Honestly, it's refreshing. And I give them mad props for setting a livelier tone to the class.
If you have the opportunity, go to college. But don't fall into the expectation that everyone's ready for college straight out of high school. That's kind of like saying you're ready for a 27 mile marathon right after a jog around the block.
Namaste.
Thursday, November 27, 2014
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
Don't Knock it 'Till You Try it: Pessimism
So, for the most part, I'd consider myself an optimist. I have an annoying habit of seeing the best in people and try to correct cynicism by telling people to do yoga and drink water (as those closest to me know, when they come to me with a problem, the first thing I will tell them to do is drink water). But the LAST thing I'd be able to do is pretend that life is beautiful, la la la, I never have a bad day ever. While yoga and this whole growing up thing has taught me to be able to breathe through negative thoughts and realize that this too shall pass, I am adamant in the belief that being able to ignore your negativity 24/7 does not make you a better person. Sometimes, you just have to indulge yourself in your hatred of that annoying person who chews gum too loudly or the fact that Taylor Swift's "Shake it Off" plays literally everywhere.
Let's pretend I don't secretly love that song, okay?
I've had this belief for quite some time, but I thought it was perfectly portrayed in Passenger's "I Hate":
My first thought when listening to this song was "this is hilarious; it's pure gold. Why isn't this as popular as Let Her Go?" I mean, I think everyone can relate far more to the disdain of public bathrooms than being all dramatic about love and loss and blah, blah, yadda, yadda.
Not that love and loss aren't important, but that's been done to death. It's nice to relate to a popular singer about hating annoying Facebook statuses like "hanging with my #mcm!"
Like with everything in life, pessimism is best done in moderation. I'm not saying the world would be a better place if we constantly complained about how terrible our lives are, but on the flip side, it's equally annoying to be surrounded by people who are just. so. happy. and refuse to acknowledge that on occasion, it's fun to indulge in life's suckery.
Just as Passenger says, "Yeah I laugh, and I live, and I have love to give/but sometimes all you can do is hate."
When I got back from Shoshoni, I was convinced that if I exuded any sort of pessimism, that meant I'd failed as a spiritual person. I'd claim that spiritual people don't stay in bed too long and moan that work sucks, that they feel fat that day, that if one more person asks them where they're going to school, they'll scream!
Bad days exist for a reason. If I can't give myself a day to cry and watch too much Grey's Anatomy, my "optimism" will soon turn into "biting sarcasm towards anyone who exhibits any sort of happiness."
Sometimes, in order to give and love properly, you just have to hate. It doesn't mean you fail as a person. It just means you're a person.
Namaste.
Let's pretend I don't secretly love that song, okay?
I've had this belief for quite some time, but I thought it was perfectly portrayed in Passenger's "I Hate":
Not that love and loss aren't important, but that's been done to death. It's nice to relate to a popular singer about hating annoying Facebook statuses like "hanging with my #mcm!"
Like with everything in life, pessimism is best done in moderation. I'm not saying the world would be a better place if we constantly complained about how terrible our lives are, but on the flip side, it's equally annoying to be surrounded by people who are just. so. happy. and refuse to acknowledge that on occasion, it's fun to indulge in life's suckery.
Just as Passenger says, "Yeah I laugh, and I live, and I have love to give/but sometimes all you can do is hate."
When I got back from Shoshoni, I was convinced that if I exuded any sort of pessimism, that meant I'd failed as a spiritual person. I'd claim that spiritual people don't stay in bed too long and moan that work sucks, that they feel fat that day, that if one more person asks them where they're going to school, they'll scream!
Bad days exist for a reason. If I can't give myself a day to cry and watch too much Grey's Anatomy, my "optimism" will soon turn into "biting sarcasm towards anyone who exhibits any sort of happiness."
Sometimes, in order to give and love properly, you just have to hate. It doesn't mean you fail as a person. It just means you're a person.
Namaste.
Thursday, November 20, 2014
If You Lead, I will Follow: On Befriending Your Mother
Back in 2007, when I thought that TV reflected real life and that I would traipse into high school with a football boyfriend and straight hair, I watched Gilmore Girls religiously. For the most part, I was happy to be taken out of my own acne-ridden life and placed into Stars Hallow, but there was that wistful part of me that saw Rory and Lorelai's friendship and thought oh I want that. Wouldn't it be great to live with your best friend, to be able to have a shoulder to cry on 24/7, to have someone who will not only judge you for eating excessive amounts of Chinese food, but who will join in?
Seven years later, after binge-watching Gilmore Girls on Netflix, I look at their relationship and realize, oh I have that.
Minus the part where we look like movie stars and throw pop-culture references at each other, my mother and I could be the Gilmore Girls. And while the lines got a little blurred when I was a kid and we had to work out the differences between friend and parent, we can focus on the friendship part of our mother/daughter pair. I get weird looks from my friends when I tell them that I literally tell my mother everything, or that we go to each other for advice--it may be a little weird, but it's not that complicated as people may be lead to believe.
There's a certain level of brutal honesty a mother can give that's hard to find anywhere else. I mean, I encourage my friends not to hold back when they think I'm being ridiculous, but my mother has years of perspective on, well, me. If I tell her a stupid thing I did, or a pattern that I've noticed about myself for the past year, my mother will very blatantly go "yeah, you did that thing since you were three years old. You should probably stop."
Okay, maybe that's not how our conversations exactly play out, but you get the idea.
Once I got past the point where my mother had to enforce rules and tell me how to, y'know, be a person, I found it fascinating to learn that she was (gasp!) a person before me. It was a little eerie that much of what happened to my mother also happened to me, but it's a comfortingly bizarre moment when you and your mother learn from your mistakes at the exact same time. Plus, it's just amusing to hear stories of her marrying a French guy and living with a bunch of strangers in France.
Even just a couple years ago, I believed that I was doomed to become my mother--that would've been the worst punishment in the world! But now I'm happy to embrace my Judy-esque qualities, as it gives me 1) hope that one day I'll become as cool as my mother, and 2) a built-in best friend, cheesy as it sounds.
Namaste.
Seven years later, after binge-watching Gilmore Girls on Netflix, I look at their relationship and realize, oh I have that.
There's a certain level of brutal honesty a mother can give that's hard to find anywhere else. I mean, I encourage my friends not to hold back when they think I'm being ridiculous, but my mother has years of perspective on, well, me. If I tell her a stupid thing I did, or a pattern that I've noticed about myself for the past year, my mother will very blatantly go "yeah, you did that thing since you were three years old. You should probably stop."
Okay, maybe that's not how our conversations exactly play out, but you get the idea.
Once I got past the point where my mother had to enforce rules and tell me how to, y'know, be a person, I found it fascinating to learn that she was (gasp!) a person before me. It was a little eerie that much of what happened to my mother also happened to me, but it's a comfortingly bizarre moment when you and your mother learn from your mistakes at the exact same time. Plus, it's just amusing to hear stories of her marrying a French guy and living with a bunch of strangers in France.
Even just a couple years ago, I believed that I was doomed to become my mother--that would've been the worst punishment in the world! But now I'm happy to embrace my Judy-esque qualities, as it gives me 1) hope that one day I'll become as cool as my mother, and 2) a built-in best friend, cheesy as it sounds.
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
My Thoughts on Marriage, Part II: Experimenting with Normalcy
It's sometimes difficult to distinguish between nature and nurture, but being the product of a divorced family, as a kid I vowed to never get divorced and to be sure that I could find a guy I could settle down with. While I've always been a bit plan-obsessed, I realize that part of my desperation to settle into the suburban, white-picket-fence, minivan routine was due to the fact that I didn't grow up with that life.
That's not to say that my parents didn't give me a blissed out childhood--they went above and beyond to ensure that my brother and I never got caught in the middle of their divorce and that we had easy access to both houses. But there was something about one house, one family, and the normalcy of it all that appealed to me, and I wanted to rush into that as soon as possible.
The biggest paradox in my last relationship was the fact that I could have easily fallen into married life. While I knew that being pressured into marriage at age 21 was the worst mistake I could possibly make--there was no way that I was ready to handle that kind of responsibility--it was so enticing to have that kind of stability. And while everyone craves stability to a certain extent, coming from a divorced family, my need to "experiment with normalcy" seemed to overpower my gut that was screaming "are you kidding me, you're 21! You don't know what it means to be married! Explore the world before you trap yourself!"
Besides my irritation that my gut used so many exclamation points, I knew that my instincts were right. I was torn between wanting so desperately to claim the title of wife and mother and knowing that I had to process what marriage meant to me, and that I'd have to be sure that the man that I marry is the one I could spend the rest of my life with.
Upon reflection, I've realized that it's a dangerous mindset to believe that you have to get married--that if you see yourself potentially being happy with someone, you should hold onto them and never let go. Because my last boyfriend came from a one-home family with happily married parents, it was clear that he thought of marriage as the next step, the logical explanation. But I only recently realized that the pitfall is when you marry because you can or should--it's only when you cannot see yourself spending the rest of your life without this person that you should even consider marriage.
Being the product of divorce (and anxiety probably isn't doing me any favors either), I've romanticized stability. Instead of growing up with the notion that "love conquers all," I thought why would you ever want to leave when you have one home, when your family is together? And when the option to have said stability is right in front of your face, it's difficult to consider the other aspects of marriage: the compatibility, the differing views on raising children, the chemistry between two people.
Leaving the option to have a content relationship/marriage was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. Just as some people have need to experiment with travel or dangerous relationships, I had a taste for the "all-American family." But, in the end, stability does not conquer all, even if it seems to beat the paralyzing fear that you will never be married. That fear ultimately trumps complacency.
Namaste.
That's not to say that my parents didn't give me a blissed out childhood--they went above and beyond to ensure that my brother and I never got caught in the middle of their divorce and that we had easy access to both houses. But there was something about one house, one family, and the normalcy of it all that appealed to me, and I wanted to rush into that as soon as possible.
The biggest paradox in my last relationship was the fact that I could have easily fallen into married life. While I knew that being pressured into marriage at age 21 was the worst mistake I could possibly make--there was no way that I was ready to handle that kind of responsibility--it was so enticing to have that kind of stability. And while everyone craves stability to a certain extent, coming from a divorced family, my need to "experiment with normalcy" seemed to overpower my gut that was screaming "are you kidding me, you're 21! You don't know what it means to be married! Explore the world before you trap yourself!"
Besides my irritation that my gut used so many exclamation points, I knew that my instincts were right. I was torn between wanting so desperately to claim the title of wife and mother and knowing that I had to process what marriage meant to me, and that I'd have to be sure that the man that I marry is the one I could spend the rest of my life with.
Upon reflection, I've realized that it's a dangerous mindset to believe that you have to get married--that if you see yourself potentially being happy with someone, you should hold onto them and never let go. Because my last boyfriend came from a one-home family with happily married parents, it was clear that he thought of marriage as the next step, the logical explanation. But I only recently realized that the pitfall is when you marry because you can or should--it's only when you cannot see yourself spending the rest of your life without this person that you should even consider marriage.
Being the product of divorce (and anxiety probably isn't doing me any favors either), I've romanticized stability. Instead of growing up with the notion that "love conquers all," I thought why would you ever want to leave when you have one home, when your family is together? And when the option to have said stability is right in front of your face, it's difficult to consider the other aspects of marriage: the compatibility, the differing views on raising children, the chemistry between two people.
Leaving the option to have a content relationship/marriage was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. Just as some people have need to experiment with travel or dangerous relationships, I had a taste for the "all-American family." But, in the end, stability does not conquer all, even if it seems to beat the paralyzing fear that you will never be married. That fear ultimately trumps complacency.
Namaste.
Saturday, November 15, 2014
Junioritis: Tales from a Clueless College Student
So there's tons of articles and blogs about the dreaded senioritis, how freshmen are clueless, and how sophomores are the awkward middle children of college, but I feel like, for the most part, juniors have been ignored. They're like that person that you kind of know, and they show up randomly with your friend group and they're just sort of there.
As a junior, I've somehow leaped from "what do you want to be when you grow up?" to "what jobs are you looking for now?" I realize that the security blanket of the rest of college is pulling away fast, and a year is like a second in college student world. A few years ago, I was applauded for not falling flat on my face during classes. Now I not only have to, y'know, not fail class, but I have to excel enough to make my professors recommend me, find an internship or two, and decide where the hell I'm going post-graduation.
Somehow the answer "I'm gonna be a hippie in an ashram for a few years" doesn't seem to suffice. I have to figure out the mystery wrapped enigma that is grad school, but I can't start applying, so I'm in this awkward phase where I have to plan my future, but I still can't definitively answer the dreaded question "so what are your plans after graduation?"
If there was a "year of the person in limbo," this would be it.
Suddenly, I realize that I have no idea how to apply for normal adult jobs. I can fill out food service applications with my eyes closed, but get me close to a resumé and cover letter, and I'm all "hey, what do I do with this thing?" Like, how do you even find careers? People have advised me to get a career since middle school, and now I'm supposed to get one, and the only way I can picture getting one is standing outside with a megaphone going "hey, listen up! I need a career; anyone got one?" The idea that I have to have this all figured out one year from today is just a tad terrifying.
Junioritis gives me this odd feeling that I'm so sick of classes and never want to see a textbook again, but I want to go to school forever because I have no idea how to be like, a person in society. Especially if that requires me to stop wearing Grumpy Cat tee-shirts and to take my coffee without cinnabon creamer.
Basically, I'm freaking out for the time when I freak out next year and realize, still, that I have no idea what I'm doing. I at least take comfort in the idea that there are thousands of students in the same boat.
Namaste.
As a junior, I've somehow leaped from "what do you want to be when you grow up?" to "what jobs are you looking for now?" I realize that the security blanket of the rest of college is pulling away fast, and a year is like a second in college student world. A few years ago, I was applauded for not falling flat on my face during classes. Now I not only have to, y'know, not fail class, but I have to excel enough to make my professors recommend me, find an internship or two, and decide where the hell I'm going post-graduation.
Somehow the answer "I'm gonna be a hippie in an ashram for a few years" doesn't seem to suffice. I have to figure out the mystery wrapped enigma that is grad school, but I can't start applying, so I'm in this awkward phase where I have to plan my future, but I still can't definitively answer the dreaded question "so what are your plans after graduation?"
If there was a "year of the person in limbo," this would be it.
Suddenly, I realize that I have no idea how to apply for normal adult jobs. I can fill out food service applications with my eyes closed, but get me close to a resumé and cover letter, and I'm all "hey, what do I do with this thing?" Like, how do you even find careers? People have advised me to get a career since middle school, and now I'm supposed to get one, and the only way I can picture getting one is standing outside with a megaphone going "hey, listen up! I need a career; anyone got one?" The idea that I have to have this all figured out one year from today is just a tad terrifying.
Junioritis gives me this odd feeling that I'm so sick of classes and never want to see a textbook again, but I want to go to school forever because I have no idea how to be like, a person in society. Especially if that requires me to stop wearing Grumpy Cat tee-shirts and to take my coffee without cinnabon creamer.
 |
| People with careers don't wear clothing with furry animals |
Basically, I'm freaking out for the time when I freak out next year and realize, still, that I have no idea what I'm doing. I at least take comfort in the idea that there are thousands of students in the same boat.
Namaste.
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
I Can't Lie
I have a confession to make. No, I didn't crash into anyone's car (again), nor did I steal all your chocolate--my confession is on a larger scale, something that makes me unable to successfully live my life as an American citizen.
My name is Kira, I'm twenty-one years old, and I cannot for the life of me tell a lie.
It all started with an innocent game of "two truths and a lie." My roommates could successfully get through three facts about themselves, but by the time it was my turn to sandwich a lie between my two truths, I couldn't do it. I would start giggling or making weird sounds akin to a constipated moose. And while it's great to be an honest person and all, there's a such thing as being too honest.
You know how when you just want an evening to yourself, and your friends say hey guess what there's this great movie playing, you have to come watch it with us, and you reply gracefully, "no I can't, I have to work"?
Yeah, not me. I either have to sound like an asshole who doesn't care about her friends or I have to sacrifice my alone time at the expense of pleasing others. Because as soon as I say something like "I have to work," I cannot stop talking. I'll say something ridiculous like "my manager broke his leg, so I have to be in charge of cheese for the next month, plus my neighbor's cat died, so I have to look after her dog, who is heartbroken after the death."
And that's just soooo believable.
Seriously though! You'd think that as an English major, I would have mastered the art of stretching the truth. That's somewhat true. On paper, I can be all "yeah, I'm a totally proficient chess player; I actually played in a competition once." In person, I will promptly forget the word "chess," call myself a "player" instead, and get really weird looks from guys for the next forever.
The only good thing about this is that my friends and family never have to question if I'm truth-ing at them, since the only thing I fail at worse than driving is lying.
Someday, I'll learn to appreciate it. Probably around the time that I wear purple and eat a lot of butter or something.
Namaste.
My name is Kira, I'm twenty-one years old, and I cannot for the life of me tell a lie.
It all started with an innocent game of "two truths and a lie." My roommates could successfully get through three facts about themselves, but by the time it was my turn to sandwich a lie between my two truths, I couldn't do it. I would start giggling or making weird sounds akin to a constipated moose. And while it's great to be an honest person and all, there's a such thing as being too honest.
You know how when you just want an evening to yourself, and your friends say hey guess what there's this great movie playing, you have to come watch it with us, and you reply gracefully, "no I can't, I have to work"?
Yeah, not me. I either have to sound like an asshole who doesn't care about her friends or I have to sacrifice my alone time at the expense of pleasing others. Because as soon as I say something like "I have to work," I cannot stop talking. I'll say something ridiculous like "my manager broke his leg, so I have to be in charge of cheese for the next month, plus my neighbor's cat died, so I have to look after her dog, who is heartbroken after the death."
And that's just soooo believable.
Seriously though! You'd think that as an English major, I would have mastered the art of stretching the truth. That's somewhat true. On paper, I can be all "yeah, I'm a totally proficient chess player; I actually played in a competition once." In person, I will promptly forget the word "chess," call myself a "player" instead, and get really weird looks from guys for the next forever.
The only good thing about this is that my friends and family never have to question if I'm truth-ing at them, since the only thing I fail at worse than driving is lying.
Someday, I'll learn to appreciate it. Probably around the time that I wear purple and eat a lot of butter or something.
Namaste.
In Defense of Water: Tales of an Excessive Water-Drinker
So the other night, my roommates were trying to convince me that water was the root of all evil and that surely I would drown in all the water I consumed. As the resident water-drinker, I usually consume about five bottles a day, more if I decide to brave the world of workouts. Having grown up in a strict "8 glasses a day" household, I didn't see anything particularly strange about staying hydrated, but having flocked from the nest of water enthusiasts, I've had to deal with the "why do you drink so much water?" comments. However, I've also learned to appreciate the perks of being an H2O addict.
1) It saves calories.
The reason that I allow myself to inhale pints of ice cream and not swell up to 500 pounds is because I literally save all of my calories for food, minus the calories in myoverly indulgent essential coffee creamer. Like, if I drank milk or juice, or especially any alcohol of sorts, I would never be able to eat. I mean, besides the fact that water keeps you full, it also allows 400-600 extra fun calories that you wouldn't have if you drank a glass or two of milk. The only way I could see one skirting around this rule is drinking so much alcohol that you, erm, don't keep it in your system, and, spoiler alert, that's so not as fun as it seems.
2) It gives you a reason to leave whatever boring/uncomfortable/obnoxious situation you're in.
Sure, you can use the bathroom excuse, but use it too much and people are going to start to wonder if you have a bladder problem. However, if you just keep chugging water, you can keep using the excuse that your bottle is empty, and may I refill please and thank you? In fifth grade, during every single lunch period, I would evade the daily "he said that she said"s by excusing myself to the water fountain. Being hydrated saves an awful lot of drama, remember that.
3) It's impressive.
Okay, so it may be a small bragging point, but people are always amazed by healthy habits, and since I'm not usually one to exhibit said healthy habits, I'll take what I can get. For instance, I'm always in awe of my roommate's gym-going, carrot-eating ways, and I think gosh if only I could be her! Well, beverage-wise, I am that person, and as an English major, I don't get many chances to be that person, so hah.
4) It gives you something to do with your hands.
As someone who can never sit still, I can either busy myself by constantly holding a water bottle, byobsessively checking Facebook, or by tearing at my nails so much that they start to bleed. As Facebook just makes me disappointed in the nature of humanity, and I'd rather not mutilate my body, water-holding/drinking seems to be the only practical alternative.
Plus, it keeps you alive and stuff. So there's that.
Namaste.
1) It saves calories.
The reason that I allow myself to inhale pints of ice cream and not swell up to 500 pounds is because I literally save all of my calories for food, minus the calories in my
2) It gives you a reason to leave whatever boring/uncomfortable/obnoxious situation you're in.
Sure, you can use the bathroom excuse, but use it too much and people are going to start to wonder if you have a bladder problem. However, if you just keep chugging water, you can keep using the excuse that your bottle is empty, and may I refill please and thank you? In fifth grade, during every single lunch period, I would evade the daily "he said that she said"s by excusing myself to the water fountain. Being hydrated saves an awful lot of drama, remember that.
3) It's impressive.
Okay, so it may be a small bragging point, but people are always amazed by healthy habits, and since I'm not usually one to exhibit said healthy habits, I'll take what I can get. For instance, I'm always in awe of my roommate's gym-going, carrot-eating ways, and I think gosh if only I could be her! Well, beverage-wise, I am that person, and as an English major, I don't get many chances to be that person, so hah.
4) It gives you something to do with your hands.
As someone who can never sit still, I can either busy myself by constantly holding a water bottle, by
Plus, it keeps you alive and stuff. So there's that.
Namaste.
Sunday, November 9, 2014
INFP's: An Examination of Realism and Feeling
I've always taken an interest in personality types, specifically when I had to understand my interactions with other people. Quite a few INFPs describe themselves as feeling like aliens in society (an accurate description on my part), and for the longest time, my only way of dealing with this "alien" feeling was by lumping everyone into groups and researching how their differences made sense on a psychological level. I still remember the shock when I learned that not everyone wanted to discuss the meaning of life, and that most everyone got bored by constant updates on my emotional progress as a human being.
However, what really struck me is that throughout my life, I would get advice to "stop letting my emotions get in the way" and to "start being realistic." The two statements seemed to oppose the very core of my existence, that it took everything in my power not to laugh at these givers of advice and say what seemed so obvious: "but my feelings are real!" I couldn't just omit how I felt about a situation, or I would be left with nothing. Without feeling, I would have no need for writing, for friendships, for conversations past "lovely weather" and "what's for dinner?"
Feeling, is often perceived as something that gets in the way of reality, that we won't be able to take the correct course of action if we let our emotions come into play. But as someone who can't find an off switch to emotions, I find it useless to objectively view a situation, pick the best course of action, then realize it was the wrong decision once I'm back to my emotional, "feel-y" self.
Yes, to the outsider, heightened emotions may seem ridiculous when you look at the exterior course of events. But just because a majority of the "events" are going on in someone's head does not make them any more invalid. I wouldn't tell a depressed person they should get over it because their life doesn't actually suck; the same is true for an "F" dominant personality.
In high school, I liked a boy, the boy said he might like me and would let me know if he did in a few weeks, then the boy said he didn't like me and proceeded to date other girls. End of story. My brain, however, took that as the two year saga of "boy likes Kira and just doesn't want to admit it, Kira goes in endless rage about unfairness of romance." Yes, the added elements to the story were annoying, but I experienced it and had to deal with all the emotions that came with liking this boy--so the most irritating thing is hearing "that's not what happened."
My need to be in tune with emotions isn't an inherent flaw, which seems to be the most difficult thing for "T" (Thinking) personalities to understand. Having emotional understanding makes INFPs able to readily empathize with different personality types, and personally, it makes me want to connect with others. Cheesy as it sounds, having such a huge emotional capacity gives me a reason to interact with humans, since the heavy introversion isn't doing me any favors in that regard.
So, for the emotion-heavy personalities, sometimes what you see is not even half of what happened.
Namaste.
However, what really struck me is that throughout my life, I would get advice to "stop letting my emotions get in the way" and to "start being realistic." The two statements seemed to oppose the very core of my existence, that it took everything in my power not to laugh at these givers of advice and say what seemed so obvious: "but my feelings are real!" I couldn't just omit how I felt about a situation, or I would be left with nothing. Without feeling, I would have no need for writing, for friendships, for conversations past "lovely weather" and "what's for dinner?"
Feeling, is often perceived as something that gets in the way of reality, that we won't be able to take the correct course of action if we let our emotions come into play. But as someone who can't find an off switch to emotions, I find it useless to objectively view a situation, pick the best course of action, then realize it was the wrong decision once I'm back to my emotional, "feel-y" self.
Yes, to the outsider, heightened emotions may seem ridiculous when you look at the exterior course of events. But just because a majority of the "events" are going on in someone's head does not make them any more invalid. I wouldn't tell a depressed person they should get over it because their life doesn't actually suck; the same is true for an "F" dominant personality.
In high school, I liked a boy, the boy said he might like me and would let me know if he did in a few weeks, then the boy said he didn't like me and proceeded to date other girls. End of story. My brain, however, took that as the two year saga of "boy likes Kira and just doesn't want to admit it, Kira goes in endless rage about unfairness of romance." Yes, the added elements to the story were annoying, but I experienced it and had to deal with all the emotions that came with liking this boy--so the most irritating thing is hearing "that's not what happened."
My need to be in tune with emotions isn't an inherent flaw, which seems to be the most difficult thing for "T" (Thinking) personalities to understand. Having emotional understanding makes INFPs able to readily empathize with different personality types, and personally, it makes me want to connect with others. Cheesy as it sounds, having such a huge emotional capacity gives me a reason to interact with humans, since the heavy introversion isn't doing me any favors in that regard.
So, for the emotion-heavy personalities, sometimes what you see is not even half of what happened.
Namaste.
Things that Piss me Off
Welcome to the rantiest rant post of Kira's blog. As much as I love producing blogs with great philosophical thought and tidy conclusions about the meaning of life, as the semester progresses and thanksgiving break is still so far away, I've been feeling pissed off at the world lately, and since I can't express my pissed-offness with heavy black eyeliner and grunge metal (is that a thing?), I thought I would subject my worldly frustrations on the internet. And so, in neat little list form, I present to you, the things that make me want to punch a baby (but not really 'cause that would be weird):
1) Slow walkers.
On a day-to-day basis, this is the thing that definitely irks me the most. I swear, some people walk so slowly, it's almost as though they're walking backwards, or just kind of shuffling their feet, hoping it'll take them somewhere. I get that if you're in the vast countryside of Ireland or something, you're gonna want to slow down and let the view sink in. Don't let me stamp on your tourism parade. But when you're in the grocery store, staring at a strip of salmon like it's made out of gold, move along, there are people trying to get home in less than two hours. We all know what bread looks like, okay? This is not a time for sight-seeing. Even during class changes, students just meander about, not giving any thought to the fact that they only have 15 minutes to dart from one end of campus to the next. It's even worse when a group of friends are together, sauntering along, because they take up the entire sidewalk.
I just don't understand the mindset of slow-walkers. Even if I leave an hour early for something, I will still walk like a million dollars is waiting for me because A) it burns more calories and B) the faster I walk, the sooner I can get to my destination. I don't know how many college students are walking around campus for the experience of walking, but I thought the whole point was to get somewhere efficiently.
2) Small servings of ice cream.
Keeping with the theme of efficiency, this has got to be the least efficient way possible to serve ice cream. Maybe somewhere, someone has worked out the magic of healthy moderation when it comes to desserts, but if I'm pulling out a pint of Ben & Jerry's, it's a cheat day. Ice cream is not a diet food. Because no one in the history of forever is going to eat three spoonfuls of ice cream, go "mmm that was satisfying," and put the carton away. Go on, I dare you to find someone who can do that. Even if you start off with that perfectly moderate serving of ice cream in your bowl, you know you're gonna sneak into your freezer at 1A.M. and finish off the pint. So why start off by kidding yourself? You're just waiting to prolong the guilt.
3) People who spit on sidewalks.
I have never understood this. Spitting is gross even in private; every night while brushing my teeth I have to give myself a little pep talk about how, yes, spitting is disgusting but the only alternative is swallowing my toothpaste. Why do people shamelessly spit in public? Someone please enlighten me. It's absolutely revolting.
4) People who say "you know, coffee stains your teeth."
Little do these people know, they'd much rather look at me with stained teeth than interact with me when I haven't been caffeinated. There's just such an air of superiority here--it's like they're saying "look at me, I never do anything that will make me look less than perfect!" That's great, but for the non-robots here, a little coffee never hurt anyone. And hey, I go to the dentistwhen I finally remember to make an appointment every six months; it's not like I'm putting my teeth in any immediate danger.
5) Jeggings.
Are you jeans, or are you leggings? MAKE UP YOUR MIND!!!
And while there plenty more things that piss me off, I'll save that for another time, as I have tobinge watch Gilmore Girls do homework and be a productive person. Or something.
Namaste.
1) Slow walkers.
On a day-to-day basis, this is the thing that definitely irks me the most. I swear, some people walk so slowly, it's almost as though they're walking backwards, or just kind of shuffling their feet, hoping it'll take them somewhere. I get that if you're in the vast countryside of Ireland or something, you're gonna want to slow down and let the view sink in. Don't let me stamp on your tourism parade. But when you're in the grocery store, staring at a strip of salmon like it's made out of gold, move along, there are people trying to get home in less than two hours. We all know what bread looks like, okay? This is not a time for sight-seeing. Even during class changes, students just meander about, not giving any thought to the fact that they only have 15 minutes to dart from one end of campus to the next. It's even worse when a group of friends are together, sauntering along, because they take up the entire sidewalk.
I just don't understand the mindset of slow-walkers. Even if I leave an hour early for something, I will still walk like a million dollars is waiting for me because A) it burns more calories and B) the faster I walk, the sooner I can get to my destination. I don't know how many college students are walking around campus for the experience of walking, but I thought the whole point was to get somewhere efficiently.
2) Small servings of ice cream.
Keeping with the theme of efficiency, this has got to be the least efficient way possible to serve ice cream. Maybe somewhere, someone has worked out the magic of healthy moderation when it comes to desserts, but if I'm pulling out a pint of Ben & Jerry's, it's a cheat day. Ice cream is not a diet food. Because no one in the history of forever is going to eat three spoonfuls of ice cream, go "mmm that was satisfying," and put the carton away. Go on, I dare you to find someone who can do that. Even if you start off with that perfectly moderate serving of ice cream in your bowl, you know you're gonna sneak into your freezer at 1A.M. and finish off the pint. So why start off by kidding yourself? You're just waiting to prolong the guilt.
 |
| Cute, but we all know how this will end |
3) People who spit on sidewalks.
I have never understood this. Spitting is gross even in private; every night while brushing my teeth I have to give myself a little pep talk about how, yes, spitting is disgusting but the only alternative is swallowing my toothpaste. Why do people shamelessly spit in public? Someone please enlighten me. It's absolutely revolting.
4) People who say "you know, coffee stains your teeth."
Little do these people know, they'd much rather look at me with stained teeth than interact with me when I haven't been caffeinated. There's just such an air of superiority here--it's like they're saying "look at me, I never do anything that will make me look less than perfect!" That's great, but for the non-robots here, a little coffee never hurt anyone. And hey, I go to the dentist
5) Jeggings.
Are you jeans, or are you leggings? MAKE UP YOUR MIND!!!
And while there plenty more things that piss me off, I'll save that for another time, as I have to
Namaste.
My Thoughts on Marriage
So a couple years ago, Jenna Marbles posted a video regarding her thoughts on marriage. At the time when it came out, I was all "yeah Jenna Marbles, that's cool, I'm 18, I'm not getting married for another hundred years."
Now all of a sudden I'm a person in my twenties and everyone's all "hey, when are you getting married?"
Besides the fact that I genuinely forget that I'm actually old enough to commit my life to someone forever, my head explodes every time someone implies that I'm mature enough (hah!) and old enough to be like "yup, that's it, gonna settle down and start a family now."
WHUT.
So after flipping out after seeing people my age get married and feeling the increasing pressure to commit myself (pun intended), I thought I would present my own views on marriage, and, for the most part, agree with Jenna's claim that PEOPLE NEED TO SLOW THE F*** DOWN. I have a lot of rants about this topic, so there will probably be a part II to this post some time in the near future--and yes, this is another full-fledged rant post, you have been warned.
I also want to make very clear that this is my personal opinion about marriage, and I'm only relaying how I've personally experienced the expectation to get hitched in my early twenties. I have friends who have very different thoughts on relationships/marriage, and we've managed to have conversations about the topic without tearing each others' eyeballs out, and I'm not trying to say any opinion is wrong. I welcome different thoughts and experiences with marriage, so please do not take this as a personal attack on anyone's beliefs. Okay. Disclaimer over.
Having been in two serious relationships, I've noticed a huge shift in mindset from high school to college. It was expected that my high school boyfriend and I were just having "fun," seeing where time brought us and all that hippie stuff, and everyone, including us, expected the relationship to end one way or another.
Fast forward to college, and suddenly everyone is talking rings and living together, and there's this sudden expectation that if you can't definitively see yourself marrying this person, then leave immediately--that if you're not picking out wedding dresses and flowers, you're leading this person on.
While I agree that if you definitively CAN'T see yourself marrying this person, and they've made it clear that they're interested in settling down, it's time for a serious talk. But it's mind-boggling enough to think about what I'm doing post-graduation, much less how a boyfriend is going to fit into the equation. With my college boyfriend, let's call him N, people were going "so where do you see yourself going with N? What are you going to do?"
Well, I see us going to get some coffee and perhaps watching some New Girl.
That's not to say that there aren't people who are afraid of commitment and that couples should never get married, but what is this sense of urgency about? Am I really supposed to know exactly who I am at 21, much less who I want to spend the rest of my life with? It's not a relationship death sentence to realize that you can't consider marriage just yet because you're still changing, you're still figuring things out.
Yes, it's fun to fantasize about your wedding, but it's almost easier to talk about dresses and first-dance songs when you know that it's not expected to plan those things right now. Relationships are hard enough when you focus on the present moment; they're nearly impossible when you try to plan out every single move and decide that marriage is the only option.
Until part II of this post,
Namaste.
Now all of a sudden I'm a person in my twenties and everyone's all "hey, when are you getting married?"
Besides the fact that I genuinely forget that I'm actually old enough to commit my life to someone forever, my head explodes every time someone implies that I'm mature enough (hah!) and old enough to be like "yup, that's it, gonna settle down and start a family now."
WHUT.
So after flipping out after seeing people my age get married and feeling the increasing pressure to commit myself (pun intended), I thought I would present my own views on marriage, and, for the most part, agree with Jenna's claim that PEOPLE NEED TO SLOW THE F*** DOWN. I have a lot of rants about this topic, so there will probably be a part II to this post some time in the near future--and yes, this is another full-fledged rant post, you have been warned.
I also want to make very clear that this is my personal opinion about marriage, and I'm only relaying how I've personally experienced the expectation to get hitched in my early twenties. I have friends who have very different thoughts on relationships/marriage, and we've managed to have conversations about the topic without tearing each others' eyeballs out, and I'm not trying to say any opinion is wrong. I welcome different thoughts and experiences with marriage, so please do not take this as a personal attack on anyone's beliefs. Okay. Disclaimer over.
Having been in two serious relationships, I've noticed a huge shift in mindset from high school to college. It was expected that my high school boyfriend and I were just having "fun," seeing where time brought us and all that hippie stuff, and everyone, including us, expected the relationship to end one way or another.
Fast forward to college, and suddenly everyone is talking rings and living together, and there's this sudden expectation that if you can't definitively see yourself marrying this person, then leave immediately--that if you're not picking out wedding dresses and flowers, you're leading this person on.
While I agree that if you definitively CAN'T see yourself marrying this person, and they've made it clear that they're interested in settling down, it's time for a serious talk. But it's mind-boggling enough to think about what I'm doing post-graduation, much less how a boyfriend is going to fit into the equation. With my college boyfriend, let's call him N, people were going "so where do you see yourself going with N? What are you going to do?"
Well, I see us going to get some coffee and perhaps watching some New Girl.
That's not to say that there aren't people who are afraid of commitment and that couples should never get married, but what is this sense of urgency about? Am I really supposed to know exactly who I am at 21, much less who I want to spend the rest of my life with? It's not a relationship death sentence to realize that you can't consider marriage just yet because you're still changing, you're still figuring things out.
Yes, it's fun to fantasize about your wedding, but it's almost easier to talk about dresses and first-dance songs when you know that it's not expected to plan those things right now. Relationships are hard enough when you focus on the present moment; they're nearly impossible when you try to plan out every single move and decide that marriage is the only option.
Until part II of this post,
Namaste.
Tuesday, November 4, 2014
Just Like a Tattoo: The Meaning Behind Getting Inked
As a wise and learned relentlessly stubborn 16 year old, I had decided it was a good idea to tell all of Facebook that I thought tattoos were stupid, and that I would never ever get one--the only way you would see me near a tattoo, I claimed, was if I decided to join some sort of motorcycle gang. I'm not entirely sure if I realized that I was living in the 21st century, where tattoos are widely accepted as, y'know, art, but I have the distinct memory that I was convinced my mind would never change.
Flash forward four years, where I'm sitting in a tattoo parlor, getting a permanent OM symbol on my shoulder. I've already told the story of the om tattoo, but since then, I've become addicted to ink. After my first tattoo-ing experience, I jumped to the conclusion that I wanted to become a walking art gallery--I've since calmed down, mostly after realizing that would require me to be thousands of dollars poorer. But in preparation for my next tattoo, I wanted to examine why having ink on your body evokes such a strong negative reaction from some people, and why it's so appealing to others. I haven't met many people who are all "yeah, tattoos are alright." They either love the idea or hate it.
So in keeping with my drastic change of appearance (apparently it's never too late to become the rebellious teenager?), I'm jumping into my inked-dream and going for a second tattoo. But instead of just blindly going, "whee, there's color on my body!", I thought I would take a more academic spin on the experience. In one of my classes, we were assigned to write an I-search paper, which is basically where you search for the answer to a question that chooses you. Being, well, me, I chose to write about feminism, but halfway through the paper, I realized it would have been much more beneficial (and fun) to write about the connotations/process of tattoos.
So this is my I-search paper, part two. I don't have any answers about the meaning of getting inked, but hopefully, through casual interviews with tattoo artists, friends, and family, I'll see why there are such strong associations with those who are tattoo-ed. I didn't feel like there was a drastic shift in who I was since getting my first tattoo, but then again, I often forget that I have it because I can't turn around and look at my shoulder. So there's that.
Wish me luck on my search, friends, and if any of you have any tattoo stories/advice, please share!
Namaste.
Flash forward four years, where I'm sitting in a tattoo parlor, getting a permanent OM symbol on my shoulder. I've already told the story of the om tattoo, but since then, I've become addicted to ink. After my first tattoo-ing experience, I jumped to the conclusion that I wanted to become a walking art gallery--I've since calmed down, mostly after realizing that would require me to be thousands of dollars poorer. But in preparation for my next tattoo, I wanted to examine why having ink on your body evokes such a strong negative reaction from some people, and why it's so appealing to others. I haven't met many people who are all "yeah, tattoos are alright." They either love the idea or hate it.
So in keeping with my drastic change of appearance (apparently it's never too late to become the rebellious teenager?), I'm jumping into my inked-dream and going for a second tattoo. But instead of just blindly going, "whee, there's color on my body!", I thought I would take a more academic spin on the experience. In one of my classes, we were assigned to write an I-search paper, which is basically where you search for the answer to a question that chooses you. Being, well, me, I chose to write about feminism, but halfway through the paper, I realized it would have been much more beneficial (and fun) to write about the connotations/process of tattoos.
So this is my I-search paper, part two. I don't have any answers about the meaning of getting inked, but hopefully, through casual interviews with tattoo artists, friends, and family, I'll see why there are such strong associations with those who are tattoo-ed. I didn't feel like there was a drastic shift in who I was since getting my first tattoo, but then again, I often forget that I have it because I can't turn around and look at my shoulder. So there's that.
Wish me luck on my search, friends, and if any of you have any tattoo stories/advice, please share!
Namaste.
Monday, November 3, 2014
How to Roommate: Sharing Tiny Spaces with other Humans and Not Killing Each Other
So I've lived with a roommate for the past three years now, and while I'm not about to call myself an expert in the business of living with other humans, I've noticed some things that make it slightly less tempting to storm out in a rage, screaming "HOW DARE YOU MOVE MY COMPUTER TWO INCHES??". Having lived with my best friend, as well as people I didn't know that well prior to rooming to together, I was surprised to see that most of the "strategies" for living with a friend didn't differ much from living with strangers. I'm still sort of learning how to roommate, but until then, I have a semi-comprehensive list of strategies to learn not to want to tear your roommate's hair out:
1) Don't spend all your free time in your living space.
This is especially important if you don't have your own room. I'm not saying you have to avoid your home completely, but if you and your roommate are always doing homework in the same room, always eating together, and constantly breathing the same air, no matter how friendly you are, there will be some tension. You will both have habits that seem second nature to you, that annoy the hell out of your roommate. Besides, it gets a little claustrophobic if you spend ALL of your time in a tiny enclosed space.
2) Pick your battles.
There will be things that your roommate does that will make you want to scream "how are you even a person?!" That's all fine and good, and we should all question why we're people really, but if you do this with every tiny habit, you'll constantly be fighting. That's not to say that you should cower in fear of ever having an annoyed exchange with your roommate, but if it doesn't wildly affect your day-to-day life, it's probably best to just let it go. If they're keeping you up until 2:00 A.M. going "no you hang up. No, you," then you can be all, "hey, quiet down, so I don't murder you with a spoon tomorrow." But if you're annoyed because he/she left a single dirty spoon in the sink, that's a good time to practice being the zen-roommate.
3) Appreciate the importance of doors.
This rule goes two ways: 1) If you have doors, knock on them. And 2) Try to stay away from apartments that have no doors. I once lived in a concrete box with my roommate, where everything was "closed off" by curtains, and you really can't knock on a curtain. Believe me, I've tried.
4) Have an occasional get-together.
You don't have to be attached at the hip, and more often than not, it's easier to go about your routine and say the occasional "hello" to your roommate. But before you realize "hey, I just happen to be living with this stranger," try to arrange your schedules to have a monthly dinner or movie or discussion of the meaning of life. Some of the best moments of this year have happened when my three roommates and I were all together discussing bras and other embarrasingly girly things.
5) Define the meaning of otherwise vague words.
It may seem perfectly reasonable to you to say "make sure guests leave by a reasonable hour," or "let's keep everything somewhat clean," but I've quickly realized that definitions of these sorts of words vary drastically. To limit confusion and resentment, try to set rules such as "guests leave by midnight," or "we'll clean every two weeks."
I'm sure that after having transitioned from one roommate to three, I'll have a part two of this blog, but for now, I leave you with the advice to try really hard not to scream at/kill anyone you're living with. It's bad practice to kill people and all that jazz.
Namaste.
1) Don't spend all your free time in your living space.
This is especially important if you don't have your own room. I'm not saying you have to avoid your home completely, but if you and your roommate are always doing homework in the same room, always eating together, and constantly breathing the same air, no matter how friendly you are, there will be some tension. You will both have habits that seem second nature to you, that annoy the hell out of your roommate. Besides, it gets a little claustrophobic if you spend ALL of your time in a tiny enclosed space.
2) Pick your battles.
There will be things that your roommate does that will make you want to scream "how are you even a person?!" That's all fine and good, and we should all question why we're people really, but if you do this with every tiny habit, you'll constantly be fighting. That's not to say that you should cower in fear of ever having an annoyed exchange with your roommate, but if it doesn't wildly affect your day-to-day life, it's probably best to just let it go. If they're keeping you up until 2:00 A.M. going "no you hang up. No, you," then you can be all, "hey, quiet down, so I don't murder you with a spoon tomorrow." But if you're annoyed because he/she left a single dirty spoon in the sink, that's a good time to practice being the zen-roommate.
3) Appreciate the importance of doors.
This rule goes two ways: 1) If you have doors, knock on them. And 2) Try to stay away from apartments that have no doors. I once lived in a concrete box with my roommate, where everything was "closed off" by curtains, and you really can't knock on a curtain. Believe me, I've tried.
4) Have an occasional get-together.
You don't have to be attached at the hip, and more often than not, it's easier to go about your routine and say the occasional "hello" to your roommate. But before you realize "hey, I just happen to be living with this stranger," try to arrange your schedules to have a monthly dinner or movie or discussion of the meaning of life. Some of the best moments of this year have happened when my three roommates and I were all together discussing bras and other embarrasingly girly things.
5) Define the meaning of otherwise vague words.
It may seem perfectly reasonable to you to say "make sure guests leave by a reasonable hour," or "let's keep everything somewhat clean," but I've quickly realized that definitions of these sorts of words vary drastically. To limit confusion and resentment, try to set rules such as "guests leave by midnight," or "we'll clean every two weeks."
I'm sure that after having transitioned from one roommate to three, I'll have a part two of this blog, but for now, I leave you with the advice to try really hard not to scream at/kill anyone you're living with. It's bad practice to kill people and all that jazz.
Namaste.
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