Chapter 26: Imagination.

a child’s imagination is one of the purest and most precious things in the world. it’s amazing to realize the possibilities that children see in the most mundane of things around them. just watch a child at play, and you can see in what magical ways his mind can work, and how he sees possibility in everything and anything. a curtain becomes a sail, a pillow becomes a boat, and a mere stripped stick becomes his only weapon against the forces of evil that are threatening humanity and all that is good.

i can faintly remember a time in my life when i could do the same. hours upon hours were spent in far away worlds and lands where there was always a happy ending. my backyard could become my own secret garden, where i was the princess adored by all. the best thing was that the story was never duplicated. the trials and tribulations of this princess changed daily, even hourly, but in the end, she was always loved and adored by her people. i wasn’t old enough to invent a prince who loved me. not yet, anyway

the one aspect of this amazing gift of children that i miss the most is that ability to see the unseen. they see purpose and necessity in simplicity. as adults, we would look at any old thing, and see garbage. they see novelty. a little girl’s favorite teddy bear and chief guest at her every tea party has just lost his leg in a serious accident with the house dog. the mother in this situation would see the need for a new bear. the little girl sees a new twist to Mr. Bear’s past that now includes a stint on a pirate ship.

i wish i hadn’t lost this ability to see the prospects in the world around me. or in myself. it seems as if the second that we lose this talent, we are forever on the search to find our very place in the world. that which was so sure to us before has become muddled and undecipherable. our every action is now driven with the purpose of finding who we are and what we are meant to accomplish in this world. there was a time when we knew who we were. i was my mommy’s daughter, my teacher’s pet, and my kingdom’s princess. and now all i see when i look in the mirror is a face of puzzlement, and eyes that always question the identity of who is looking back at them.

most people would say that at this stage in my life, i can’t pretend anymore. i have to live in this preset society. but maybe that world that i live in is one that i can make myself. not by imagining it into being, but by working for it. and maybe one day, i can again become that princess i always knew i was destined to be.

Chapter 25: Superhero.

as a child, if you asked me what i wanted to do when i grow up, i would have said i wanted to save the world. i didn't even know what i wanted to save it from, i just knew that every superhero's job was to save the world. and i wanted to be a superhero so very badly.

my ideal power would have been to fly. to escape from the things that could hurt me, and to rush to the rescue of others when they were hurt. flying just seemed like the ultimate way to live out your fantasies and to be free. even as a child, i wanted to be free, to have an escape when i needed it.

the desire in me to save the world hasn't died. not yet, anyway. it comes rushing back with every frown line i see on a friend's face, with every downtrodden face i see as i walk, and even with those commercials on tv about those under privileged children in other countries. as romantic as it may sound, i just want to do something and to make a difference. to save something. to feel like my being there did something.

it's so hard to accept that i can't always change things. i feel so helpless at that idea, but i have to accept it. i can't run away from the things that make me cry, and i can't wipe away every tear that falls from the eyes of someone i love. i want so badly to help those i see who need it, but even i know my own limits. the limits that hold me back from my full potential. my superhero potential.

all i know is that i will never stop wanting to soar. and when i figure that out, i'll finally be able to save the world.

Chapter 24: Euphoria.

i've always imagined that being truly and completely happy is more of a physical than mental thing. that tingling of the very nerves in your fingertips from excitement as your entire body pulsates with the waves of ecstasy as you are immersed in a moment so powerful, so euphoric that you've honestly lost the power of speech as your cheeks begin to strain from the smile on your mouth that just won't stop.

i have come close to this feeling.

i wonder, though, if it was the physical characteristics of the situation that made me this happy, this alive. it could have very well been the depth of the bass that forced my own heart to beat along with it. it could have been the thousands of people, melting and swaying and pushing and shoving so inappropriately close to each other that such closeness would be called an invasion of personal space in ordinary life. it could have been the range of lights: the strobes that made you question your own vision and sense of reality, the cool blues and darkness that soothed you as you swayed, or the fire and flames that ignited something oh so much more inside of you.

it could had also been that one of the hottest men alive, travis from the gym class heroes, was within a few yards of where i stood, belting out his soul to me and only me. his electricity alone was enough to make me euphoric.

Chapter 23: Lost.

it is so incredibly easy to get lost these days. and i don't mean "we're supposed to be in california, how did we end up in north dakota" lost. just purely lost. mentally, maybe. spiritually. the oddest thing about this is that it seems as if physically, you are exactly where you are supposed to be. looking in on your life from the outside makes you think that everything is ok from that perspective, that life can actually be good.

it's the inside out that's scary.

i've heard that if you are ever caught in a crowd, you should just stick out your elbows and get carried away. unfortunately, once you reach that destination, what do you have to show for it? maybe a bruised elbow or two, but nothing more. it's so easy to get carried away with the present that the future becomes that destination. and something that you realize you are completely unprepared for.

Chapter 22: Status.

what would you want more in this world, fame or fortune?

one of the funniest things in the world is to be an upperclassmen watching freshmen enter campus for the first time. it's not the fumbling and getting lost that's amusing, or the general sense of astonishment at seeing things they've never seen before, or even the giddiness at being away from home (read: parents) for the first time. it's the way they approach the social circles at college.

every group, regardless of how they associate themselves and each other, have a sense of a social hierarchy. this seems to be the natural order of humans to classify themselves as some being "better" or "cooler" than others. think back to kindergarten, when there were those kids with the cool lunch-boxes of the most in cartoon and the best sandwiches. didn't we all automatically associate them with that intangible status of "cool?" we all wanted to sit next to them during snack time, "sleep" next to them during naptime, and be invited to their birthday parties. why? just because. if we, as children, were capable of making these assumptions without the effects of popularity, what's to stop us from making judgments when we are older?

nothing. that's why we do it. and one day, we start hating ourselves for it.

it is most clear once you have passed a point of making these judgment calls, i.e. when you are an upperclassmen. you start noticing how freshmen will make more of an effort to talk to some older students, while ignoring others. adding certain people as facebook friends minutes after meeting them, while waiting for others to add them. i have even seen some freshmen actively introducing themselves to one person in a group, while acting with indifference to the person standing next to them and staring them down.

survival of the fittest? there must be some evolutionary reason as to why people are programmed to do this. having the most amount of a certain type of friends will get you through college? not true. the best way to get by is to not make enemies. and always remember that though you may not know who people are, they are always watching you.

Chapter 21: ...aaand we're back.

i'd like to romantically say that i took this one month's hiatus to go find myself. sadly, i cannot. i'll admit that i spent one month doing things that altogether prevented me from hitting my blog tab at the top of my screen. but now i'm back, and hopefully able to tell you all about the world again. hopefully, you care.

even if i haven't changed in one month, the world surely has. that's the funny thing about it...no matter how hard you try to stand still, everything else will always continue to move...

Chapter 20: Hate the player, not the game.

board games were a highlight of my life when i was younger. i considered myself to be quite the connoisseur of board games, with a collection that could put anyone to shame. you name it, i probably had it. however, one of the greatest banes of my existence at the time was the fact that my sister would always beat me. it seemed to be just one of those unfair advantages of being older, but i was so angry. what about the fact that she came into this world before i did gave her the right to win every time? would her 2 years and 10 months advantage over me always make her smarter than me, better than me?

i thought that board games were merely child's play until i realized that they are really the capitalist world's way of grooming children into being able and contributing citizens of society. that is, it's the world's way of teaching children how to "play the game..."

what the hell is this game??

i've heard this phrase so many times that it doesn't even register with me anymore. but what is it! the only thing i can recognize around me are the strategic moves that people put out there, movies aimed to advantage themselves while disadvantaging others. i've noticed the poker faces of people who know what they are doing, and don't let anyone else in. i've also noticed how some people foolishly let their hands show, telling everyone and everything what they have. but what's the prize?

i'm sure there are famously pastoral poems out there that would say happiness, hope, etc. but no, there has to be something more. but i cannot figure this out! and yet i play, with no end in sight. because not playing means not living, and as long as i have breath within me, i have no choice but to live. and so i play.

Chapter 19: Family Tree

i don't think that i am of the generation of students who began to learn that families come in all shapes and sizes. my picture books had a very clear blue sweater wearing father, pink dress and apron wearing mother, baseball playing timmy, and doll playing sue. and, of course, a dog named rover. all of them blond.

in this day and age, however, i've noticed that these same books now show families in all their glory and differences. there are the single parent families picnicking together, the homosexual couple taking their child and puppy for a walk, and the interracial family having dinner together, sitting across from people who may not look like them. i am in complete and utter support of such training for children because it really does prepare them for the real world. such people exist, and they will come across them. maybe not when they are 9 years old, but at some point.

the one thing that my education did not prepare me for was the differences within the families themselves. the only thing that i can assume is that others are also not prepared for this because it seems as the most intolerance i feel is from within my own family. this isn't an emo cry out for help against the oppression of my parents. this is a question posed to all those family who live thousands of miles away and who i feel are strangers to me: why?

i feel it the worst when i see other extended families getting along swimmingly. and i hate that i want it; that closeness between cousins and aunts and uncles. as much as i try to forget and tell myself that this has nothing to do with my everyday life, when it's staring at me in the face, i want so much to reach out and touch it. that nearly physical warmth that seems so genuine. i won't be selfish, i just want a taste. no matter how hard i try, i just can't get it.

Chapter 18: Time.

i am late to everything.

despite how ostentatious that statement may look, this is not something that i am proud of. it really is amazing, however, that this happens because no matter how early i leave (read, plan on leaving), i am always about 10 minutes late. sadly, i can always be later than this, but never earlier.

i've always wondered what the world looks like 10 minutes before i saw it. i imagine that it is a completely different place, one that i would never be able to recognize. i've also wondered about all the misfortunes and opportunities that i have missed because of my lateness. despite wondering about these things, i cannot seem to change my timing.

unless everything else were to start 10 minutes later than intended.
a girl can dream.

Chapter 17: Life.

what constitutes a truly morbid thought? what pushes a person across that thin line between a contemplating philosopher to a depressed maniac? how do you know where you fall?

i've always thought seemingly morbid thoughts as far as i can remember. the idea of death and what it must feel like to die has always intrigued me. no, not in a "ooh, i want to try!" kind of way. more of a fascination of sorts. with the idea, with the after-life (is there one? isn't there one?), the idea of a soul.

what attracted me most to death was the dignity in it. a lot of people say that the expression on a dead face is that of peace and serenity. honestly, i've always seen a look of pretentious dignity, nearing haughtiness, never quite there. a kind of pride that you see in a living person who walks into a room and owns it. you are probably just sitting there, minding your own business as you sip your drink, when you are compelled by an urge to look up at the door. and there she is, that person who can command the attention of the entire room, relishing in the delight of all eyes upon her and her alone. as you look around, you realize that others were just as transfixed as you were. you revere and envy her for this unseen power over others. this is what i see when i see death.

i've always thought that a person's true worth to the world can only be determined by his/her funeral. that is the one time when every person you have affected significantly or slightly will be together in the same room at the same time. i think this is what saddens me most about funerals. though the person is lost, i am a firm believer in that each has his own time to go and we can't do anything about that. the reason i cry at funerals is because that person will never fully realize his/her influence in the world, how much he touched a particular person at any particular moment. he'll never realize that this loss has brought forth tears from eyes he never expected, and nothing from eyes he expected to be red and itchy by now.

i'm not going to throw out the cliches of "live each day like it's your last" or "if you love someone, tell them so everyday." let's be honest, in the middle of all those cell phone calls and emails, dodging cars as you cross the street and dodging your boss at work, buying that non-fat light latte with extra whip cream, these are the things we forget to say. all i'm saying is that when have lost someone who has touched you in any way - and i mean any way - shed a few tears. if this is not your style, remember them as you take an extra minute out of your day to close your eyes and just breathe, make a small offering in her name when you give a quarter to a bum, or just raise your morning cup of coffee to him in salute. i may not have any lofty ideas about life or death, but i do know that no act of kindness or compassion will go unnoticed.

Chapter 16: Action.

what if all the world really was a stage? who would you be everyday?

i've thought about this a lot. the idea that you can leave your house one fine morning and be someone completely different, a different character with a different past, present and future. some days, it's so tempting. other days, i don't want to be anyone else in the world.

sometimes it does feel like the world is one huge production. sometimes elaborate and gaudy, other times minimalistic and stoic, always a show. and the script seems to be ingrained in the very pores of our skin. a few lines:

"hi, how are you?"
"fine, thanks. and you?"

"it's such a beautiful morning."
"i know. i hope the weather lasts."

"does this dress make me look fat?"
"no."


as long as the correct answers are given, the wheels keep turning and the world is at peace with itself. however, change a word or two, like:

"hi how are you"
"awful. and yourself?"

time screeches to a halt, babies start crying, famine strikes. and yet, this answer might be coming from complete and utter honesty. the person who is awful is merely making a statement, and isn't even asking the other person to listen to exactly what is so awful. yet, the other person will walk away from that conversation uncomfortable and troubled, and will have it lurk in his mind for the rest of the day. any spare moment will be devoted to thinking about this conversation.

i think i may try a bit of impromptu acting in my life from now on. you know, just to shake things up a bit.

Chapter 15: Fireworks.

fireworks always makes me think of my childhood. they remind me of a time when things were never complicated than who got to be "it" first or what flavor of ice cream i wanted that day. though i carefully deliberated all of my choices, i realize now that many of them could have been made with my eyes closed and my finger pointing in any direction. i'm pretty sure that others also share this sentiment and love for fireworks. so much so that every 4th of july, hundreds upon thousands of fireworks are lit all over the country.

this year was no different, except for the fact that i was at school for the holiday this year. my friends and i decided to make a day of it with pancakes in the morning and then going down to the philadelphia museum of art to see the customary fireworks. as the eleven of us trooped downtown

i did notice the clouds out of the corner of my eye as i packed my umbrella and hoped for the best. as we crossed through the parade (just as the alien impersonators passed by. i don't know either.), a few more clouds rolled in and ponchos came out. lo and behold, the skies opened up and out poured the rain. the eleven of us crowded under what i could only call 2.5 umbrellas, shivering as it got colder and darker. a few of us remained hopeful, saying that the fireworks were coming any minute now.

we didn't know at the time, but aretha franklin performed about 50 feet away from us, but as the speakers weren't turned on, we had no idea. some of our party left around 10pm, which made sense considering we had been there since, oh, about 7, 7:30? the worst part of the night, as if it could get any worse, was at 11, when it was announced that there would be no fireworks that evening.

none. nothing. not even one little flare. i don't think i've ever felt so heart broken in my life. there went my one break from the everyday, my fifteen minutes of regressing to my 12-year-old self, my one chance at getting lost in nothingness as my senses were dazzled by lights of different colors and sizes.

as we walked home in the rain, no less, i think the only words that were spoken were grunts of disapproval and sighs of regret. i couldn't remember ever being so disappointed in recent years. just as we passed a clearing in the middle of the city, we were overcome by the glorious sight of white lights and the loud boom of sparks. it was a miracle, i tell you, a miracle! all of us sat right there and watched as the next 15 minutes made our night. we waited an extra five minutes at the end just to make sure that there were no more. after seeing our hearts content worth of fireworks, we went home.

i don't think i've ever enjoyed fireworks more than i did that night. not only did the initial disappointment add to the effect, but spending it with some of the most amazing people i have ever met made it all the better. some how, that night turned people who i've been going to school for at least a year into people i've come to cherish and adore. haha, as cheesy as that may sound. and the best part of it all, is that the same feeling of ecstatic joy i get during fireworks, i now get whenever i see one of these people. i don't know about you, but i like a little cheesy-ness in my life.

Chapter 14: Romance.

i know everyone asks this question, but i have to ask it too: is romance really dead? well, damn. that sucks.

i really think, like every woman does, that i was born into the wrong century. where are the flowers, candy, little blue boxes, moonlit walks on the beach, candlelit dinners, oh come on don't make me go on!

i really started thinking about this last week when i was out to dinner with some friends. we were at a thai place near campus, a normal place that we tend to frequent a lot. towards the end of the dinner, i had to make a phone call so i left the table. upon returning, the faces of all the other 9 people at the table were so wrought with emotion that i was instantly curious to know what had occurred in that brief of expanse of time that i missed. the guys at the table were smiling incredulously at each other. the girls were looking at each other in complete awe and wonder. and one lone girl at the end of the table was sitting there with the most mortified look on her face. and a slice of cheesecake in front of her.

it seems that a boy from our year, who had been sitting at the bar when we came in, decided to send this particular girl this particular slice of cake. no one let her live this down, especially not the guys.

but honestly, i was kind of impressed. how many guys can really summon the courage to do something like that, and in front of all her friends? it wasn't even anonymous because everyone at the table knew that it had been him. yes, this action was met by laughter by most of the table, but i'm pretty sure that every girl secretly hoped that she was the one in that position. after all, what girl wouldn't want to be fawned over with a piece of really good cake?

Chapter 13: Sorry, you're going to hell.

the university of pennsylvania (penn) is known for its really beautiful campus. walking down locust walk as the flowers bloom and the cool winds gently sway the budding trees is one of the greatest things about going to this school. i can always tell when summer starts: people laughing and talking as they sit outside on college green with their lunches, professors making exceptions to rules to teach under the shade, and the crazy man thundering in the middle of the walk to all who will listen, all the while condemning all non-white non-catholics to the depths of hell. peaceful, no?

ask any penn student, and he/she will tell you of this man. as soon as the weather is just right, he comes in the morning, sets up his little placards, and gets to work denouncing everyone in sight. most people just keep walking right past, a look of outrage on their face when they hear what he says. but usually, that outrage quickly subsides once he is out of ear shot. a brave few will attempt to argue with this man, explaining how many of the greatest achievements of man were created out of diversity, but this tends to get pretty ugly. after all, the only way to deal with a man so in love with his own voice is to raise your voice a bit higher. and higher. and higher. until you and he are screaming.

despite how people react to him, and the reaction is always the same, he never fails to come out there and attempt his re-education of the masses. i'm sure that at some point, someone tried to remove him from the spot, but he changed his cries to, "the first amendment allows me to stand right here!" then the police men who glared at him slowly faded away, then the human activists, then the bums, then the people who were remotely interested, until all you have left is him.

the only thing that worries me about this entire situation are the people who walk by with indifference, shouting louder into their cell phones so their friend can hear about last night's drunken escapades. after all, "the other kind of evil we must fear most is the indifference of good men." i've come to find that once you start ignoring the little things, you move on to the medium ones, slowly working your way up to the biggest of them all. then it takes the death of 1.5 million children at the hands of the nazis to shock people into attention again.

i am comforted by those who stop and fight, who risk being late to chemistry again just to tell that man off. i am also comforted by the looks of outrage that i see on faces as they past by because at least realizing the wrong in something is just as important as fighting against it.

Chapter 12: Smile.

sometimes it seems as if the entire day, the world just pushes down on the corners of your mouth, making sure you don't smile.

i'm convinced that i can tell when i'm going to have a bad day. some portent or another will reveal itself to me, and even though i may not know it at the time, this is the foreshadowing of something bigger coming. i started believing in this in 6th grade. one morning as i got ready for school, i sliced my hand open with the worst paper cut i have ever had. with blood streaming down my arm, i went to school, where later that day, i got in trouble with the principal for something i didn't do.

today was one of those days. i came into work feeling awful and cold and sick, but i came in anyway. and then it seemed as if nothing was going well for me, as if everything had suddenly decided it was against me. the fax machine, the air conditioning, the computer, nothing was cooperating. i should have known that this was sign of some sort, but as usual, i didn't see it coming.

and then my sister called and told me that my cousin was dying.
i don't think any sign could have prepared me for that.

Chapter 11: The Stock Market.

i've recently become interested in the stock market. after all, who wouldn't be considering the very idea of investing? the idea that you can make money just by spending money wisely is, well, intoxicating. and yes yes, i know, there's far more to it that just that. there is research and considerations and preparation. blah blah boring blah. i'm ready to take some risks, baby!

interestingly enough, one of my closest friends and i recently had a conversation about risks. who takes them and who doesn't? after all, everything in life has a value, and every decision made is an investment. some are very minor, like what should i wear this morning? but think about it. if you put the time in to dress carefully, your output could be higher, but you are losing those initial resources of time and energy. and don't be fooled by anyone; it did take energy to put that outfit together that she supposedly threw on.

but then there are other decisions, other investments. ones where the outcome is the most important return of all: your happiness. should you invest in that career that may not pay so much, but it's what you love to do? or should you go for that 6-figure starting salary, knowing that you'll live comfortably?

thinking about this more, though, i realized that it's not so simple as these two decisions. sacrificing my own well being for money is settling to me, conforming to standards set by a illusioned society. but i also can't escape the fact that i am a product of that same society. one that teaches me that i need manolo blahniks to be a truly successful woman. and i want these comforts. but again, not at the expense of me.

where does this leave me? unhappy. i will always want more and expect more of myself because that's the kind of person i am. i will also take those risks that could bring me happiness. after all, big risks mean bigger rewards, right? but not all the time. not even half the time. (cue statistician to tell me the exact number.) the only guarantee is that every time i don't win, i lose something. there will then be those people who don't take those risks, settle with what they have, and lose nothing. so who really is the smarter person here?

i know i won't change. this is who i am, and i've come to accept this part of my personality. all i can do now is make a few decisions, a few investments and see where that puts me. as for the real stock market, i think i'll stick with some mutual funds here and there before playing with the big leagues of real stocks. but trust me, i'll get there.

Chapter 10: Politics.

i'll be the first one to admit that i don't follow politics as much as i should. unfortunately, this leads to the inevitable outcome of me not knowing who the candidates are come election day, and thus, me not voting for lack of sufficient information. don't worry, received enough lectures for this behavior from my politically-savvy friends.

as talks about the next presidential election arise, i again find myself not knowing who the candidates are. however, something did catch my attention: the following excerpt from an interview between sean hannity, of fox news, and mitt romney, republican presidential candidate.

hannity: word association game. you ready? one word, best adjective for a lot of the people that you’re competing against. just whatever comes to your mind.
romney: sporting. great guys.
hannity: all of them?
romney: it’s a good group. it really is.
hannity: senator mccain.
romney: friend. american hero. i’m not going to give you one word but friend.
hannity: rudy?
romney: strength in a time of real crisis.
hannity: newt gingrich.
romney: brilliant. wonderful idea generator.
hannity: fred thompson.
romney: you know, i don’t know fred terribly well. i watch him on “law & order”, but he always seems to have the right answer.
hannity: good answer. hillary clinton.
romney: misguided.
hannity: barack obama.
romney: inexperienced.
hannity: john edwards.
romney: two americas. and he’s wrong. there’s one america.
hannity: dick cheney.
romney: strength, resolve, maturity.
hannity: george bush?
romney: great heart. great character. a man of passion and integrity.

it's not difficult to see from this interview who the democrats and the republicans are. according to romney, democrats = bad, republicans = good. and that's it. there's no grey area to be seen. this instantly reminded me of the psych/sociology experiments done at harvard (https://implicit.harvard.edu/implicit/demo/, if you'd like to try them). the researchers are trying to figure out the implicit biases that people have by showing them an image, and then telling them to decide if the image is "good" or "bad." it seems as if romney has developed the same reflex mechanism when it comes to politics.

even for someone who doesn't follow politics, this is alarming. do candidates not have any complexity to them at all? or are they just everything that their political party requires them to be? i have always thought that is human nature to judge others. everyone does it, whether they admit it or not. but to judge someone based on such superficial methods seems a little drastic to me.

but i have done it. unfortunately. this makes me wonder, have others judged me based on the one characteristic they head about me? probably. but what was that one thing? it could have been physical: that my hair is straight and black, that i'm 5'5", that i wear too much black (as my mother says). it could have been my personality: that i'm ridiculously awkward, that i stare too intently at people when they're talking to me, that i laugh by throwing my head back (those who know me, yea, you've seen it). so what was it? what made that one person decide right then and there that i was either worth his/her time, or completely unworthy of their consideration? obviously, i can't control what people think of me and my ways, but i am worried that i will miss out on some great experiences in life because someone judged me too quickly. all i can do is try not to do the same to others, and hope that i'm not judged too harshly.

all of this talk of politics and judgement has led to me to just one question:
is there really a "law and order" actor running for president? wow.

Chapter 9: Hi, this is Sherene. I'm not feeling well today...

last wednesday, i called out sick from my job. naturally, i wasn't sick at all, but i did it anyway.

it was a combination of staying up late the night before catching up on episodes of "the office," seasonal allergies beginning to kick in a bit (this is the truth), and my bed was really warm. i thought these were all valid reasons for calling out.

is that even acceptable? to take a day off just for yourself? by conventional standards, no. how dare anyone decide that this day be theirs, and theirs alone. when one enters the "real world," his/her life no longer belongs to just him or her. her life is now the property of everyone else around her: the boss who tells her what to do, the co-workers for whom she must watch television the night before so she can keep up with their coffee conversations, the weatherman who tells her what to wear.

and don't lag behind, dear! keeping up is basically what the game is all about. which is what i find myself doing. and thank goodness, as in any game, there are cheat codes. have your work on screen somewhere so that when your boss walks by, she doesn't see you updating your blog. as soon as you get to your desk, go to any news site and look at the highlights from last night's tv. after all, tv shows seem to be covered more than, oh i don't know, a war, let's say? and screw the weatherman. but you might be uncomfortably too hot or too cold, depending on just how you screwed him. and keep an umbrella in your over-sized purse at all times because you don't need to get wet to make a statement.

Chapter 8: The trials of a 20-year-old.

life sucks when you're not 21. trust me, i know. i'm 20.

being 20-years-old means that i'm in limbo. i'm given responsibilities, but i'm still treated like a child. i'm on my own, but i'm a student. and the age old inequality, i can fight in a war, but i definitely can't drink.

the worst of all is being 20-years-old in philadelphia in the summer. i'm taking classes and working, yes, but my weekends and nights tend to be free. what do all able-bodied adults do on free nights and weekends? they go out.

out for me means center city. it means getting all glammed up in costumes of desire and intrigue that make me, for one night, someone else. the mysterious girl by the bar who's kohl-lined eyes are half covered by her dark hair, but whose big eyes are watching intently. the bubbly girl who's the life of the party, dressed impeccably in the latest outfits, and who everyone wants to be and be with. i'm not saying i ever am one of these girls (trust me, i'm not), but i can try. out means hailing a cab ever so smoothly, and getting one every time. out means dancing, laughing, having a great time with friends while trying to talk up the cute guy who's over there with his friends. think sex and the city, and that's what out means to me.

except when you're 20. then none of this matters. i'm too old for frat parties, unless i want to be a frat groupie, which, um, no, thank you. and i'm too young to go downtown. take last saturday.

my friends and i had nothing to do, so we decided to go to byblos, located near rittenhouse in philly. it's a popular hookah bar that i've been to before, and it's one of those places where i'm guaranteed to have a great time. we went out, armed with our fake ids. we got out of the cab, and everything went the way it always does. guys would call out indecent remarks and old-school pick up lines, and bums would ask us for money. we, two of my female friends and one of my male friends, walked away smoothly and cooly, never losing our composure.

the bouncer, an african man dressed in a white suit, instantly looked at us suspiciously. my male friend gave him the id, which happened to be an indian driver's license. the bouncer looked at it, then at us, and back at it, ending this repetition by calling over the owner. my friend knew his brother, the other owner, so he cajoled him into letting him enter the club. i was next. i handed over my international student id, and the bouncer again repeated his little dance, with an insolent smirk on his face this time. the owner was called over, and what did he say? no. you can't go in.

i was baffled. i have never been turned away from his place below, and this was a blow to my dignity. with me not getting in, no one wanted to go in, so we walked away, offended. i was offended, anyway.

but really, what can i do or say? this is the life of a 20-year-old, totally based on luck. sometimes it works out, and sometimes it doesn't. until i turn 21 (in 7 months), i'm stuck. in the meantime, all i can do is work on getting a better fake, and make myself look a little older.

Chapter 7: The future.

i've been thinking about my future a lot the past few weeks. partially because i'm now going to be a junior in college, and i need to make some concrete decisions. partially because people around me have been talking about their futures a great deal. and partially because my mother insists on bringing it up in every conversation we have.

so what's the problem? well, for one, i don't really know what i'm doing with my life. wow, that sounds pathetic when i say it out loud. rather, write it out loud. i'm in a positive situation, though. i have too many options rather than none. some of those options really appeal to me, others really appeal to my parents. then there are those that appeal to both of us, but i'm not really sure if i can accomplish them.

how do i choose? no idea. i tend to set lofty goals for myself, and they don't seem to work out a lot of the time. i think i should try setting small ones, you know, things i can do in a week. like study my gre's 2 hours per week. write for 15 minutes a day (stole that one). go to the gym 3 times a week.

i'll let you know how this works out.

Chapter 6: Life and death.

near death experiences are usually never humorous, but my summer of 1999 begs to differ. that particular summer, my family and i went on an end of the summer trip to wildwood, new jersey. this town is the epitome of summer: rows and rows of seasonal houses; motels, hotels, and lodges dotted in between; a boardwalk with people from all walks of life; and one of the best beaches as far as the eye can see. the greatest place on earth for any 12-year-old.

i was especially excited to go down to the shore because i had just finished the “guppy” level of swimming at my ymca. the guppy level is exactly what it sounds like – the very first level of swim classes. until then, i had never swum an inch in my life without some kind of safety device, and knew that i would probably perish without one. however, at this point, i was pretty confident that i could compete in the olympics, and get that gold medal, too. no problem.

my 15-year-old sister and 9-year-old brother joined me both in this class and in this sentiment. we could finally jump in the pool at the family lodge where we always stayed. we could finally jump in the waves of the atlantic ocean, the same ones where our dad would hold our hands as we carefully, oh so carefully, waded through them. most of all, we could finally, finally go on the coolest and funnest rides at the water park, the ones that ended in pools that were six feet deep.

the minute we reached the lodge, my siblings and i knew that we wanted to jump in the pool as soon as we could. the suitcases were opened as soon as they reached our second story room, and the three of us were ready to use our new aquatic skills. my mother gave us permission to go down to the pool, with strict instructions to stay on the shallow end. the three of us trooped down, and surveyed the area like old pros. the only other people there were an older couple, around my parents’ age, who were calmly sitting on the side. the three of us went in, my sister and i wearing oversized t-shirts over our bathing suits.

from the minute i went in, i thought that the water was the place to be, and i questioned why anyone would want to stay on land. being the expert that i was, i decided to walk over to the slightly deeper end, and then to walk a little more. i found myself sliding down the slope of the pool, and i did the only thing that i could at this point – i reached over and grabbed my sister.

as we slid into the water, i could hear my swim instructor’s voice in my head, “paddle, sherene, paddle!” i wouldn’t call what i did then paddling as much as it was flailing wildly in the water, arms and legs. it did help me out, however, and my head popped up over the water. the next second, i felt myself getting pulled under, and when i looked down, i noticed that my older and bigger by three inches sister was climbing up my shirt in an effort to save herself. down i sunk, back into the water. i then had no choice but to grab the end of her “d.a.r.e. keeping kids off drugs” shirt, and tug. i had to breathe, too, after all.

back in the room, my dad was asking my mom where the kids were, and she calmly told him that we were in the pool. he came over to check on us on the overlooking balcony when, lo and behold, there are his two eldest children bobbing like apples in the deep end. wasting no time, he climbed over the rail and jumped into the pool from the second story of the lodge. swimming over to us, he took the both of us by our over-sized shirts and threw us over onto the shallow end. at this point, the other couple, who thought that we had been playing the entire time, came over to help out when they finally realized that something was wrong. we were then treated to quite a scolding, followed by quite a lecture.

through it all, my brother did as he was told and stayed in the shallow end. i’ve always listened to my mother since.

Chapter 5: Work. Or something like it.

so the question was raised in one of my classes the other day: when do we become adults? is there a definite start to this process, or is it a malleable, understood boundary that we just accept because others have told us it's true?

there were many different answers to this question. some said an absolute age, like 21. if that's the case, then i only have a solid 6 months left until i become an adult? oh no, please, i hardly deserve such malicious treatment. plus, drinking alcohol in no way qualifies anyone as an adult. others said that certain milestones in one's life will make a child blossom into adulthood. situations like the first time you truly fall in love, going off to fight a war that you may know nothing about, earning your first paycheck and then writing it off on your first bill. i know plenty of children who have gone through these things not because they wanted to, but because they had to. does having the ability to choose to go through one of these events make one an adult?

i guess then the next question would be what is adulthood after all? responsibility. self sufficiency. maturity. morals and values. knowing right from wrong, good from evil. i'm pretty sure that i know these things now, so how will i know when i have become an adult? in that particular class, i don't think we came up with an answer to these questions, but they made me wonder. i've seen all kinds of people around me, from children who have been forced to grow up too quickly to adults who have yet to take their lives into their own hands.

as for me, i don't know when i'll become that adult who everyone expects me to become. i may know a few things, but there are many more that i need to know and, more importantly, experience. about myself and about this world that i live in. i'm just satisfied with the knowledge that i'm not ready to be that person just yet. and when i am, i'll know.

for now, i'll just continue to pretend to work as i update this blog. me, an adult? yea, ok.

Chapter 4: What drives you forward?

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine, as children do.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

marianne williamson. "a return to love"

picture: my parents 25 years ago.

Chapter 3: A little bit of hope? Maybe? Just maybe?

so the other day, i was in bucks county coffee, doing my usual thing: i go inside and just sit there, doing work. i'm not sure if i'm expected to purchase anything. regardless, i don't. unfortunately, this behavior has earned me the scathing looks of the baristas at the counter as i drink my solitary bottle of poland spring. ah well, so is life.

anyway, as i was sitting at the farthest table from the counter, my attention was caught by the women who were ordering their drinks. the first was an asian women with long black hair, dressed in a lavender nurse's uniform. she seemed in quite a rush, struggling with a packed-to-bursting tote bag and a smaller, gucci purse. she was so frazzled that she couldn't find the 23 cents that she still owed the cashier. at this point, i noticed two black women standing near her. one was wearing jeans and a regular black t-shirt with a name tag around her neck. and this woman can only be described as boisterous. her chatter and laugh filled the entire room, and this was certainly a large room. the other, smaller woman was dressed in pink velour pants and a cropped denim jacket, holding a fake gucci purse at her side.

upon seeing that this nurse couldn't find her change, the loud woman instantly presented her with what she needed. needless to say, the nurse appeared to be better off than the other woman, but the louder woman had no problem offering her change. and the nurse gratefully took it, and paid for her coffee.

this little scene really did make me feel all warm and sunny inside. it did restore some of my faith in people. faith that was never lost; faith that was never there to begin with. i'll admit that i handicap humanity when i judge them so that i am not disappointed when i find out that yea, they can be as bad as they seem. but this little incident made me think different for at least that day.

of course, as soon as the nurse left, the other two women began to make fun of her. ah well, so is life.

Chapter 2: The way I want to live my life.

"The next real literary ‘rebels’ in this country might well emerge as some weird bunch of anti-rebels, born oglers who dare somehow to back away from ironic watching, who have the childish gall actually o endorse and instantiate single-entendre principles. Who treat plain old untrendy human troubles and emotions in U.S. life with reverence and conviction. Who eschew self-consciousness and hip fatigue. These anti-rebels would be outdated, of course, before they even started. Dead on the page. Too sincere. Clearly repressed. Backward, quaint, naïve, anachronistic. Maybe that’ll be the point. Maybe that’s why they’ll be the next real rebels. Real rebels, as far as I can see, risk disapproval. The old postmodern insurgents risked the gasp and the squeal: shock, disgust, outrage, censorship, accusations of socialism, anarchism, nihilism. Today’s risks are different. The new rebels might be artists willing to risk the yawn, rolled eyes, the cool smile, the nudged ribs, the parody of gifted ironists, the ‘oh, how banal.’ To risk accusations of sentimentality, melodrama. Of over credulity. Of softness. Of willingness to be suckered by a world of lurkers and starers who fear gaze and ridicule above punishment without law."

david foster wallace. "e unibus pluram."

picture: the cold war kids. my newest obsession.
and the only thing that gets me out of bed in the mornings these days.

Chapter 1: Literary.

i've always wanted to be a literary person. you know, one of those cool, all back wearing, scarves in the summertime, black eye-linered, cafe inhabiting individuals who just exude the essence of all that is... hip. alas, this has not happened to me. partially because being literary also means that i have to write, which i seemed to have forgotten along the way.

i realized that basically, until now, i have been a poser, and one of the worst kinds. not only did i dress and make-up and eye line the part of someone i was not, but i also earned the respect of the spectators around me who thought i was a rather respectable being who actually did write. and possibly wrote well. sorry to disappoint, but not really. all that typing you saw? yea, that was me on aim.

but i believe that i can be a new age literary: one who actually does write. now, i'm not accusing any of the quintessential literary types of being posers, but honestly, if i could do it, anyone could. and all that time i used to spend looking the part, i'm now going to focus on doing the part. sort of.

so let's see if this works out, right? i mean, as my mom would, say, "i can try."

Introduction

so i guess the first question that anyone can ask is, "why would i want to read the world according to you, anyway?"

and i say to them, "solid question."

not convincing, i know. but i think that my voice is one that should be heard, however pretentious that may sound. my view on the world is now better than the next person's, but it might be a little more entertaining. (again, as pretentious as that may sound.)

all i ask is that you give me a chance. just one chance, and see if i have what it takes to keep your attention long enough to hear me out. and if not, tell me so. i'd love to hear some honesty one of these days. one thing i can guarantee you is that i will be as honest as possible with everything that i say, though there may be some poetic license taken with the humor.

so i welcome you to my world...