Archive for February, 2010

I Love Bryn Mawr

Hey little monsters, how’re you doing?

What new topic am I going to be talking about today?

I’m going to talk about choosing your college! Everyone, put your hands together in the least sarcastic way possible!

No, seriously. Do it or I’ll cut you.

Ha ha. Just joking.

Ha ha. Just joking.

Okay, now that you’re all gone, I’m going to actually start talking about colleges. Because college is cool, kids. And no, I didn’t write that just because it’s alliterative.

But which college? If you’re anything like my high school friends, you’ll have applied to the top twenty colleges on Forbes list and based your entire self-worth on the results, you’ll have a truly impressive list of extracurriculars that supposedly make you seem like less of a cardboard cutout of a human being, and you’ll have no idea what’s going to happen next. If you’re not like my friends, you’ll still have no idea what happens next, because all of high school seems like one huge race to get to the finish line and you finally made it.

I got bad news for you, little monsters: the race ain’t over. Finishing the first one just guarantees you entry into the next, so you better pick a good track.

(How much further can I push this metaphor?)

Don't even try it

Don't even try it.

Okay, okay. Sheesh.

You’re going to be doing a lot of visits to colleges in the next few months, if you haven’t already started. All of them are going to be good, but good is not good enough – your college has to be AWESOME. It has to make you feel like this:

Look, Simba. Everything the light touches is our kingdom.

Look, Simba. Everything the light touches is our kingdom.

That’s it. That’s all you need. You can look at the opportunities you’ll get or the amazing departments they have, or talk to the brilliant people there, but in the end, it all just adds up to this: you need to be excited for college. Because high school is behind you and in front of you is your adult life and you need to want it more than anything.

And finally, I’ll leave you with some pictures I took of Bryn Mawr (please excuse my poor photography):

Bryn Mawr, Spring 2009

The view from my window

Muchos ♥,
your friendly neighborhood supergoddess


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Sort of a funny follow-up to my post about how we should just love everyone, but that’s what you all love about me: my unpredictablity. Right? Right?

CRICKETS: *chirp*

Ugh, fine, be that way. It’s not like I care. I’m not crying in a corner or anything.

My roommate’s younger brother is staying with us for a few days and I’ve noticed that he’s essentially a distillation of her worst traits, wrapped up in the body of a teenage boy. In other words: the roommate from hell. I’ll avoid going into specifics because, uh, that’s just rude. I’m not the most patient or tolerant of people, so I don’t doubt that some of my ire is my own fault.

Anyway, I don’t like this kid and he gets on my nerves. I can’t exactly kick him out because he’s living with us and half of the room belongs to my roommate. Rather than writing a post about how much I hate him (well, anymore of a post), I decided to come up with a bunch of ways to deal. Hopefully this works on any and all of your unwanted guests!

Breathe. And again. Remember that he’s a teenager and he can’t help it. We’ve all been there – cocky, arrogant, and convinced of our inherent superiority. Over time, we are ground down into insignificant nubs aware of their own failings. This is called college. He will get there eventually.

Find other places to be. This is better if, like this guest, he’s only going to be staying for a few days. I’ve turned this into an excuse for being social and hanging out with my friends.

Ask him to be less of a dick. Probably not in those words. But if it gets to be too bad, talk to him – tell him what’s bothering you, and ask if he can change or compromise. There’s no point to suffering in silence, my little monsters.

Take advantage of the quiet moments. He can’t be with you all the time…right? If you’re dealing with a houseguest, this might be a little more problematic.

Meditate. Remember: You are a serene, glowing, calm font of calm, glowing serenity. This might sound a lot like the first method. That’s because…it is. Except not, because it’s better! More advanced! You aren’t just breathing, you’re meditating. Why are you meditating? Because you need to get up the nerve for the last method:

Tell him to leave. A last resort, one to be used if you genuinely can’t stand your unwelcome guest. Be polite, but be firm. Things to avoid: Telling him how much you can’t stand him, throwing things, screaming, locking him out.

Good luck with all of your unwelcome guests, and wish me luck with mine.

Muchos ♥,
your friendly neighborhood supergoddess

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It’s February 14th, so what else am I going to talk about, amirite?

Of course I am. Rule Numero Uno: Your Friendly Neighborhood Supergoddess is ALWAYS right.

Bryn Mawr, as much as I love it, is full of cynics and skeptics who decry Valentine’s Day for being commercial, made-up, and crass. Which is stupid, and not just because cynicism is so two thousand and late.

I’m not a huge fan of Valentine’s Day. I think it’s commercial, made-up, crass, AND symptomatic of how obsessed our culture is with pairing people up…but I do believe that ideally, no one would need Valentine’s Day ever – we’d all know how much we are loved, and be able to tell everyone else how much we love them.

…yeah. It’s a cute dream.

The truth is that everyone takes everyone for granted. We assume every day that our friends are still our friends, that our lovers still love us, that our parents aren’t kicking us out in the middle of the night. But none of us are mind readers and everyone needs a little reassurance once in a while – so the real purpose of Valentine’s Day should be to tell each other how much we care.

Here’s some pictures of some perfectly platonic* hugs to get you started:

* well, one would hope…

Muchos ♥,
your friendly neighborhood supergoddess

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…but this is just kind of gross.

It makes American Apparel look like a cheap porn website. I’m not a huge fan of American Apparel anyway but…this whole thing is pretty much a turn-off.

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Right now I’m taking Beginner French and I do agree…French is a beautiful language when spoken by natives. Not so much when it’s being slaughtered by a bunch of undergrads.

But Spanish is my first love.

Like a lot of people, I love Pablo Neruda. There’s a weight to Spanish that I feel is missing in French, a sort of sensuality of syllables. A lot of times I say that French might be the language of romance, but Spanish is the language of love. Not to mention sex.

Me gustas cuando callas porque estás como ausente,
y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te toca.
Parece que los ojos se te hubieran volado
y parece que un beso te cerrara la boca.
Como todas las cosas están llenas de mi alma
emerges de las cosas, llena del alma mía.
Mariposa de sueño, te pareces a mi alma,
y te pareces a la palabra melancolía.
Me gustas cuando callas y estás como distante.
Y estás como quejándote, mariposa en arrullo.
Y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te alcanza:
Déjame que me calle con el silencio tuyo.
Déjame que te hable también con tu silencio
claro como una lámpara, simple como un anillo.
Eres como la noche, callada y constelada.
Tu silencio es de estrella, tan lejano y sencillo.
Me gustas cuando callas porque estás como ausente.
Distante y dolorosa como si hubieras muerto.
Una palabra entonces, una sonrisa bastan.
Y estoy alegre, alegre de que no sea cierto.

But hey, maybe I’m biased.

Muchos ♥,
your friendly neighborhood supergoddess

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