Registration and Hiatus

Today we had registration and I got all the classes I wanted on the first click without the system crashing. Someone out there is on my side! I am posting now just to warn that my posts this week might be limited and soon there will be exam week when my posts will definitely be limited. Right now I have two movie screenings and reflections to catch up on, an Arabic essay due on Wednesday, a lab due on Friday and a massive twenty page final paper that I'm sure is due sometime soon.

I hope I can post more about registration and the exam week experience, but this is a warning post dear readers, if there are any, that I will be on hiatus in order to get my academic life in order.

Race. (Yes, I'm aware it's a big issue for such a short post)

No one intelligent likes when negative stereotypes are applied to them. That's a pretty huge blanket statement, but I'm confident in its accuracy. In  a predominantly white, New England, upper-middle class society, there are certain stereotypes that I am constantly at war against. Don't take this the wrong way. I am not saying that I feel oppression or constant stereotyping or that I feel like people around me think less of me for being a multiracial woman. Nothing is as blatant as that, and in fact, people who cause these feelings of difference are generally not even aware of the effect they are having on others around them. Whether or not they are aware of their words or actions, these words and actions still matter. They still upset the balance of equality and if someone of my background (or a similar one) isn't careful, they can easily fall into a trap of bitterness and loathing of society.

Anyone who goes or has gone to a boarding school knows the type of person I am referring to. Often times, groups of racial or socioeconomic minorities group together in what can seem like a pretty exclusive and hateful clique. These people are a mere product of their environment. For minority students, there comes a point when there is a fork in the road. There are two options. Some people choose the embittered, cliquey lifestyle and others choose to forge their own path and attempt to create something different out of their experience. I see neither way as the right way; I merely see them as different paths. Despite my use of the word "embittered", I hold no real negative association with that position. I understand this bitterness and how it can manifest and take hold. Any specific experience could have changed the path I took, and the same goes for everyone else. Deciding how you fit into a predominantly white world is the minority's first existential crisis and events surrounding that crisis determine the outcome.

I don't consider myself to be easily upset regarding issues of race. In fact, I believe most issues to be non-issues; if they aren't blown out of proportion, those can be easily solved by correcting the offender in a calm manner and explaining the reason their words or actions are offensive. I have found this more satisfying than two other common options: option 1 being saying nothing about it and option 2 becoming enraged to the point where reasonable discourse is impossible. If someone is afraid of an explosion, they will be less willing to open up about the source of their comments or behaviors. Anger is a hindrance with racial issues.

As a half-black young adult, I am aware of the "angry black woman" stereotype, and I'm sure, regardless of your race dear reader, you are too. I try very hard to not come off as excessively confrontational and I am constantly aware of my moods. I choose my battles carefully. I keep an open mind regarding race relations and I only remember becoming truly upset once over an ignorant comment regarding diversity.

I am not naïve; I understand that although blatant racism may no longer exist above the Mason-Dixon line (I can't speak for below it), subtle remnants still exist. I hate using the word "racism" to describe these remnants. Racism sounds openly oppressive and evil. Racism is a confederate flag toting hick with a burning cross and white cloak. What I am thinking about is a lot less drastic, but still debilitating to equality in its purest form. I wish that I knew another word for it that didn't sound like an angry accusation; I expect most people are familiar with the phenomenon I'm describing but all we have to label it with is this misnomer.

Discussing race relations would be easier if there was a softer word to put to it. "But No! Racism is racism. Call it what it is!" What would that accomplish? When has fighting ever helped truly solve problems. Diplomacy is more logical than combat, especially regarding such a contentious issue. Diplomacy is everything. Explaining someone's ignorance rather than becoming violent is the only way to actually educate people about differences rather than making them afraid to discuss them. "But that's what they want! To oppress and dominate!" Are you really oppressed if you have the power to teach someone about a racial experience they cannot possibly have for themselves? Empowerment exists if you are willing to reach for it; reaching for it doesn't even have to involve aggression or a great struggle. Oppression is what you do to yourself if you are caged away refusing to calmly discuss difficult problems.

Minority students growing up in a predominantly white world are closest to this empowerment. In my ideal world, there would be less of a racial divide and willingness to close racial gaps would exist. It is easy for minority students to believe that no one cares about their experience and how it differs. It is easy to believe that no one will understand. I am convinced, however naively, that people actually do care. At least they would if race relations were openly discussed. It is difficult for people not to care about issues that affect their friends personal lives as well as their social mobility.

I've always wanted to say this all at once. During a debate or conversation, when these thoughts run through my head, they are rarely as eloquent. I hope some reader sticks with this all the way through, passes it on and internalizes it. Then again, that's what any writer hopes for isn't it? 

Grown Ups

When you turn 18 you are considered an adult by society. Legally, you can vote, buy cigarettes, porn, enlist in the army, buy lottery tickets, get tattoos and piercings without parental consent and pretty much do everything except have a legal (alcoholic) drink. It's terrifying to think about as someone from the other side of the 18-year-old fence. I look at people who are close to my age and I wonder if they should really be allowed to vote. I wonder if I'm ready for society and prepared to live outside the pressures of family and friends and be entirely self-sufficient. As long as you depend on people you are never truly an adult. I think about how I will know that I'm all grown up. I know that society telling me that I'm an adult at 18 will have nothing to do with it. I've seen 18 year olds who are clearly not capable of having their own lives and I see people who are my age or younger who would probably survive just fine in the real world.

I doubt I will realize I'm an adult at a specific moment. I doubt I will be able to pinpoint a date and time and say, "ah, yes, I am all grown up now. I suppose it is time for me to act like a true adult". I expect that I will figure it out over time. I can see myself waking up and realizing that I am finally one of the unreasonable grown ups, except their unreasonable actions will all make sense to me. I will be privy to their great wisdom finally and have access to their pains and troubles and successes and regrets.

For now I am at the classic teenage impasse. A part of society is yelling "Be responsible! Be an adult!" at the same time, other voices in society counteract that, they scream "You are still a child! You are too young! Don't be in a hurry to grow up! You are ignorant and eventually you will understand." So who am I supposed to listen to? Independence is supposed to be integrated into my lifestyle and not come all at once. I'm supposed to let the adults lead me along on a string until they have decided I'm old enough.

Am I old enough when I start making double their incomes? Am I old enough when I vote for the "right" president? Maybe it happens when I can pick up everything I own and run away and it will actually work out. Perhaps it's when I have my own place, career and plans for the future and I simply don't care anymore. Maybe when I find the remote, and turn down the volume of all of society's screaming voices I will find adulthood.

I think the trick is to make baby steps. In my quest for maturity and adulthood - the two are not necessarily the same thing - I put a lot of thought into what this actually means and how I can attain it with whatever minimal significance I have. Self awareness is a big part of growing up - realizing your youth and it's limitations within society. However, self-awareness should not be debilitating and stop you from reaching for your dreams. Trying to work within the limitations your self-awareness has provided is a lot more effective. Another part of growing up is being able to do things on your own; that can be accomplished through planning a road trip to visit a friend in another state, booking your own flights home without help from your parents, getting your first real paying job or even treating yourself to the latest technology from your own bank account.

Financial independence is a huge part of becoming an adult, specifically in today's world but there is another aspect of independence that I occasionally try to ignore. Emotions. The word gives me chills ever since my recent push to have reason guide my actions as opposed to my impulses. But it's true, emotional maturity is a big part of being an adult. If I think back to my actions that have been criticized for being immature, I realize that my definition of emotional maturity and everyone else's may have some slight differences.

People think that piping down and just "being an adult" when someone crosses one of your boundaries is the mature thing to do, but I disagree. It takes adulthood to a certain degree, but I find standing up for what you believe in to be more courageous. Recognizing the negative  consequences for your actions and still having the courage to stick up for yourself is something I would consider to be grown up.

Regarding friendships, I think maturity is being able to go months without seeing friends and having things be totally fine when you do end up seeing each other and catching up. Maturity is not getting upset when your friends cannot pick up the phone or take a rain check on your Skype dates. One thing I have learned is going off to college changes dynamics in your friendships. Although you are further away from each other, the people who you grew to love in high school become your support system. If you have a bad day, or want to vent about the annoying girl on your hall, the people you just met are not the ones you talk to. The girls who you lived with before, who understand your nuances and that when you get angry and scream into the phone for five minutes you will be completely over it in half an hour, are the ones who will be there. Friendships gain a tinge of nostalgia. You wish you had told each other how much you cared; you wish you could run away to New York together just for a while to relive the good days.

Growing up is realizing that your dreams might change and the dreams that once seemed so attainable might be further off than you realized. It's being there for your friends when their dreams change and even if you're just as lost as they are, it's about assuring them that everything will be okay. The cusp of adulthood is a strange place to be. A slight push over the edge and I expect I will have a moment of realization.

"I'm an adult. Oh my god. When did this happen?"

And I'll look back on all the years past, and I'll have all those typical adult feelings of regret and anxiety, but hopefully wherever I'm looking back from will be the place I've been striving to get to. I can't imagine being an adult and still having these unfulfilled dreams. I strive to refuse disappointment and live as successfully as I possibly can. 

Thursday Playlist

No question about it, this post is blog filler. I admit that I am at a loss for things to write about that I feel passionately for. I currently have about 300 words on two separate topics but I don't see either of these posts culminating in anything ground breaking. Instead of trying to force inane posts upon you, I will come up with a new Thursday tradition of posting a playlist of 10 songs for you to listen to. I'm not saying they will flow into each other; after all I'm not a music producer, but hopefully it will give you, dear reader, something to do while you wait for my brain to uncloud and start spewing its meager genius again.

I am not genius enough to figure out how to embed sound files so I will post YouTube links where you can listen to all the songs. 

1. Oh Comely - Neutral Milk Hotel

2. Osaka Loop Line - Discovery 

3. Dance Yrself Clean - LCD Soundsystem

4. The Good Life - Weezer 

5. Loser - Beck

6. The End - The Doors

7.  No Quarter - Led Zeppelin

8. Congratulations - MGMT 

9. Thistle & Weeds - Mumford and Sons 

10. Silver Lining - Hurts

If you're too lazy to listen to these one by one, I may direct you to the 8-tracks link I have created with this playlist. Sorry for the hipster-quality of this. I promise I listen to a variety of music and what I post next will definitely be dependent on my mood. 

Edit: [3 PM 11/24]
Here is the 8-tracks link; due to some of my iTunes struggles "The End" is not included on the 8-tracks playlist. Still a great listen though.

Personal Update

Thanksgiving Break is today and I'm happily spending the time on Middlebury campus. I slept for twelve and a half hours last night after crashing around seven thirty (in the evening) and woke up today refreshed with a greater sense of what I need to get accomplished this break. There has been so much stewing around in my head that I have been feeling overwhelmed, like I have a lot to sort out. There is a lot I need to get settled but this doesn't mean that I should let all other aspects of my life fall by the wayside.

A few days ago a couple of my friends made "pacts" with regards to diet and study habits. I am unsure as the the actual integrity of these pacts, but I have been slightly inspired to try to create a "pact" of my own with amendments that will be put into place as soon as this break is over.

1. Finish homework as soon as possible before socializing.

2. Try to get to bed before 1 a.m. unless you are working or it is a weekend.

3. Coffee is not a meal. Do not get so excited about caffeinating that you forget about eating.

4. Don't get discouraged to go visit teachers because it is too cold out. That is not a legitimate excuse.

5. Make time for pleasure reading. I know I have time, so I should just work on using it efficiently.

Well this weekend, I'm sure I'll have plenty of time to think of topics to write about, and I may even take some photographs so you can get an idea of what Vermont looks like right now. I am a few steps away from making my home within a hipster cafe for the next few hours, but I might just stick to something a little bit closer to my dorm building.

I have one paper I need to be sure to hand in before Monday, and two assigned movies to watch (Saturday) and I have to get busy reading some Chemistry Chapters so I can be at least somewhat prepared for the final exam which is sure to ruin my life. Oh, and I need to start applying for summer jobs so I can complement the summer classes I want to take at Cornell.

Life as a pre-medical student is very busy, even if I am taking only three classes right now! 

20 Books to Read Before Turning 20

I promised the list a while ago, and have yet to deliver, distancing myself from the coveted position as a bibliophile. 20 books to read before you're 20 seems like a good idea for a list title. I am almost 20, and I want to consider myself accomplished having read all of these books. I may cheat a little when it comes to book series but other than that, I promise to make this list brief and succinct. 

(1)  Catcher in the Rye

It sounds cheesy, and I know some people absolutely hate this book, but it's a quintessential coming of age story even if your own coming of age story will have absolutely nothing  to do with New England prep schools and prostitutes. 

(2) Harry Potter Series

(3) Lord of the Rings Trilogy

If you expect to be a nerd, it should be obvious why these two are on my list. I would suggest the Lord of the Rings trilogy a little bit later than the Harry Potter series, but both should be completed before your second decade. 

(4) The Great Gatsby

Don't read this book thinking it will be the best book you will ever read. Pay attention to the green light, and the great quotations. Some people get more out of this book than others, but regardless of how you connect with Fitzgerald's work, this book is an American classic that is beautifully written. 

(5) The Stand (Unabridged)

This book takes forever to get through, especially if you go to school full time. It took me a little more than half a semester to finish, and I tried to read every day. This book is horrifying not because of the "shock factor" but because of how brilliantly it's set up and how oddly realistic it seems. 

(6) A Super Sad True Love Story

I don't recommend this for people under fifteen due to the graphic sex scenes, but I consider this book to be an updated 1984. It has the dystopian undertones attributed to Orwell's 1984, and I don't mean to undermine the value of Orwell's work. I just find a more modern take one dystopia  a necessary warning to future generations. 

(7) The Sun Also Rises 

I am in love with Hemingway. I talk about it all the time; this book is a requirement because everyone needs exposure to Hemingway and I particularly enjoy the way he writes the characters in this book. The experience of reading this book will be even better if you have been to Paris or Spain. 

(8) Hamlet / Macbeth

Fill in the "Shakespeare's Tragedy" requirement with either one of these. Hamlet is more complex, but I find both of them equally good. Neither of these are my favorite Shakespeare plays, but if you are simply dipping into Shakespeare without passion for his work, then these two are great options as an introduction into his brilliance. 

(9) The Monk 

If you are not attune to the hypocrisies of today's religion, you  can compound that belief with evidence that there was hypocrisy even before the break of the 21st century. This is a great story with some powerful poetry intertwined within the plot. 

(10) A Clockwork Orange 

Another example of dystopian literature. The language is tricky and interesting. There are many creepy parts of this book; it tends to heighten the senses. To increase the significance I recommend listening to Beethoven's Ninth on repeat until you are done with the novel. 

(11) Life of Pi

I read this when I was a little bit too young to understand but I still remember the novel's power.

(12) Heart of Darkness

Conrad's polyglotism makes this book even more amazing. I often criticize the transparent symbolism and how overrated this book is, but I do admit that it's great literature and you have to read it to be considered well read in any society. 

(13) Crime and Punishment

Token Russian literature. Don't skimp on this book. I always think of an elective at my old school called "Getting Away with Murder" and I can't think of a better concept to attract people to read this book. Russian literature can occasionally become dense but I urge you to push through before your twentieth. 

(14)  Ten Little Indians

This Agatha Christie novel may have another (more politically correct?) title at this point but I read it when I was ten and found it absolutely riveting. There is nothing like a good mystery novel to help a slow fall night pass by. 

(15) Are You There, Vodka? It's Me Chelsea

I love Chelsea Handler. She is the definition of a self-made woman and I personally find her to be a complete genius, no matter how crass she can be. If you are trying to "make-it" in any kind of male dominated society or if you just want to be entertained by a woman who refuses to fit into the mold of meekness society has created for her, read this book. 

(16) The Sound and the Fury 

Easier to get through if you are reading for a class but if you are up for a challenge this book will be OK to read on your own. I don't recommend this book for dreary or depressed days because it can send you into the depths of despair for a while.  Faulkner's exploration of varying levels of the human psyche is incredible however; if you ever thought you had family problems, this book will quickly change your mind. 

(17) When You Are Engulfed in Flames

David Sedaris is an amazing story teller. I love his style and his narrative is humorous and oddly relatable on a number of levels. This collection of short stories is a must read for (a) smokers who desperately need an excuse to quit (b) people with short attention spans and (c) people who want me to consider them bibliophiles. 

(18) Farenheit 451

This is hardly long enough to be considered a book, but consider it a free pass since I've required two full book series. Fraught with symbolism and very dark, it's no surprise that this is on my list to anyone who knows me and my reading style. 

(19) A Good Biography

Some suggestions include: Malcolm X, Madeline Albright, Bill Clinton, Theodore Roosevelt, Andrew Jackson, Barack Obama and George W. Bush. Books that do not count: Dick Cheney, Sarah Palin, Donald Rumsfeld, Glenn Beck. 

I apologize for my bias, but some political propaganda in the form of "biography" is unacceptable.  

(20) The Kiterunner

Important because of the era we live in. I don't advocate for Middle Eastern xenophobia; it is important to understand the culture of the places the United States is engaged with and I think this book is a way to take a step towards doing that. 

I am not claiming these are the best books of all time, I just think they are necessities for a modern book list. 

Markings of a True Bibliophile

I love books more than anything. Most of my earliest memories and most home videos from my babyhood involve books and this love affair has continued well into my pseudo-adulthood. (I acknowledge that although I may have a lot of adult-like tendencies I am still seventeen). In order to feel like my self-proclamation as a bibliophile is accurate, there are a few important things that I must do.

First, I believe it necessary to have experimented with a variety of literary styles and types. I have read everything from Russian Literature (Anna Karenina, Crime and Punishment) and Shakespeare to more modern authors like Tamora Pierce, J.K. Rowling and Christopher Paolini. The key to being a true bibliophile is reading from a variety of genres and recognizing the artistic beauty in all of them. You cannot be a snob who refuses to read anything published after 1950; the true bibliophile recognizes that differing audiences and differing cultural contexts can alter the style and tone of a book.  The bibliophile appreciates this instead of feeling like one genre is superior to the other. (Exception: The Twilight Saga should never appreciated under any circumstance.)

I also believe it is necessary for a true bibliophile to find it close to impossible to name a favorite book. You can always discern those who are widely read because they find it difficult to narrow down their love to a single volume. My favorite books differ depending on who is asking or my mood at the time. If I'm feeling nostalgic or indifferent I generally choose "The Sun Also Rises". In my best moods I normally choose Henry IV Part I (specifying which part is important). Regardless of my mood I give "The Stand" and honorable mention because of Stephen King's powerful story telling. These books seem to have no real correlation but I have really read and loved too much for me to pick three favorites that bear similarity to each other. 

Third, a lover of books should have an illogical affection for a specific author. This love cannot originate with physical appearance; the author should become beautiful before you see his or her face and physical beauty should only become an object of affection if you happen to find beauty from your unadulterated love.  My two great loves are Stephen King and Ernest Hemingway. Both are tortured souls, and only one is alive. I discovered my love of Hemingway from his short stories and I fell in love with Stephen King after a particular disturbing scene in "Firestarter".

Look how earnestly he stares at the camera

My affection for Ernest Hemingway is derived from the way he conceals complexity within deceptively simplistic language. I love the characters he contrives; the way they can seem so perfectly unlikeable yet you find yourself rooting for them and urging them to succeed. When I think of Hemingway's face, there is one stereotypical image (left) that always comes to mind. I imagine being able to see his suffering with alcoholism and depression through his eyes. I imagine what it must be like to hold so much genius inside and only be able to truly express all his thoughts through words that can express emotions meagerly at best. I can almost feel how his depression would have set in, and ultimately I understand why he was driven to suicide. A sort of immortality resides in his work; immortality that I admire and almost envy.

Another pun. Perhaps about Kings.

Stephen King is different. I have always perceived him as some sort of paranoid sociopath who has somehow found a way to function. I imagine him resenting that the darkness of his mind has become popular fiction consumed by the obviously inferior masses. I imagine that when he encounters each person he cannot help but think of their inevitable deaths; I think that he must have such great awareness of mortality that he cannot help but write about it, if nothing else to feel a sense of control over the lives of his characters. Of course, Stephen King may not agree with my perceptions of him; he may be a total normal genius but I find it more exciting to love the construct of a dark and mysterious genius whose mind is plagued with apocalyptic thought. (Gratuitous picture of Stephen King)

I have suffered a brief digression, fueled of course by my literary passion. Getting back to the topic at hand: I have taken a number of steps to becoming a true bibliophile, but I feel incomplete. I have yet to come up with a suggested booklist. You know the ones I mean - "1001 books to read before you die", "20 great 20th century novels" - that kind of thing. This post has gone on too long. I am going to publish it without editing and then begin working on my own grand list. I hope someone out there appreciates my crazy love and digressions and of course my biblophilia (which is apparently not a word). 

Perceptions, Labels and Losing Yourself Within Them

What dictates someone's perceptions of you? What makes someone decide that you are preppy, a hipster, a nerd or a jock? Personally I've been labelled as three out of the four. I owe you a Pepsi if you can guess which one I'm not. I don't use the word "label" in the way most people seem to use it with a negative connotation; I'm merely making an observation about the way people I have observed choose to define their peers. People I interact with are quick to assume things about me based on the the small percentage of my personality I have revealed to them and I oftentimes wonder why they do this, or to greater import, whether I do the same thing.

I am quick to acknowledge that I am judgmental. I try not to let my tendency to analyze and draw conclusions - as the politically correct would say - become the driving force of my interactions but it is so engrained in my persona that it's nearly impossible. I wonder if my habit is learned from society or somehow genetically inherent in my personality. I also think about whether or not I have the right to care about people labeling me when I could potentially be doing the same thing to them.

When I draw conclusions about people from limited interactions, I tend not to permanently associate them with these conclusions unless our interactions were truly horrible. For instance, if the first time I meet someone they are sloppily drunk being carried up the stairs by five people I may not instantly associate them with being a sloppy drunk (even if this is a one time thing for them), however I am open to my impressions of them changing.

However, in another situation, if someone has met me for the first time and they open up too much about their personal lives, to the extent where I am made uncomfortable, it's pretty hard for the damage to be undone. More purposeful interactions cause me to draw more permanent conclusions. If someone goes out of their way to behave a particular way towards me, my perception of their character is affected a lot more than if I merely happen upon them in a compromising situation.

When I am called preppy or a hipster I frequently know exactly what leads people to these conclusions. If I wake up and decide to put on a dress, pearls and flats as opposed to jeans and flannel, I am setting myself up for being labeled as a prep. When I choose to blast Arcade Fire as opposed to Ke$ha, especially when I wear my wayfarer style glasses, I'm a hipster.

I am aware of the decisions I make that lead others to assume things about me. I recognize that certain decisions lead to certain assumptions; particular behaviors are assessed and categorized into specific boxes. Now, I am questioning whether or not I am truly being myself at any given moment or if I am just playing to a particular assumption or typecast that has been set up. Do I really care that much about what people think of me? Am I afraid that they will dislike my personality? Or am I just obsessed with the amount of control I can exercise over my image?

Controlling my image was important for most of my high school career. Remnants of my conscious efforts to control how people viewed me are manifested in my loss of my Caribbean accent, my shift towards preppier clothing and overcompensating levels of intellectualism. Now, I am a mix of so many different things and I don't think of myself as having an identifiable personality type. I sometimes feel the urge to reveal more of the person I am when I'm alone and unconcerned about others' reactions, but at this point I think the shift would be too dramatic to seem authentic. (Oh the irony).

In any case, I have learned that this kind of vulnerability with my personality is weak, regardless of its authenticity. No one cares to know about your naiveté or your crazy hopes and dreams for the future. People are more likely to respect someone tough and competitive with hopes of living in New York surrounded by the equally callused than someone meek who is slightly unsure of herself but just wants to be happy living a subsistent life in the middle of nowhere. "Respect from others shouldn't matter!" - the response is too predictable. But it does matter. Your interactions with society are dictated by others; your success in society is dictated by what others think of you.

If I have to act a certain way to eventually reach my goals of happiness, it's what I'm going to do. Years of self-loathing for not being true to myself in exchange for a future of  happiness seems like a fair trade to me. Isn't that what growing up is about? I'm teaching myself the value of delayed gratification - and that's all this is. The fact of the matter is,  it's difficult to succeed in a competitive environment if others perceive you as weak; you may argue that it's possible to be meek and quiet while still being a threat to competition, but then your view of success is limited to a smaller range; the meek rarely go as far as the strong.

My image can be classified is one of those teenage rebellions I suppose, but I don't want it to be a cliche. I want to have freedom from this rebellion in the future and I don't cling to the foolish nothing that this is how I will perceive the world forever. My image will hopefully direct me, and help me attain my goals for the future. A façade of confidence and self-assuredness is better than none at all. 

My Atheistic Rebellion

"So you admit that you don't believe in God?"

"Yes."

"Then you're an atheist!"

"No! I'm not an atheist, you don't understand!"

Read this over and over again at least once a day and you'll get a picture of what my life has been like for the past three weeks. Of course, more things have happened, I don't live a completely empty life, but for the past few weeks this conversation over my religious (or spiritual) beliefs have been a topic of at the very least minimal contention. I'm not entirely sure why there seems to be such an external push to define what I believe. I don’t understand this need to commiserate as an atheist with the group of non-believers who in their lack of ignorance have inevitably pushed themselves into hyper-awareness of their insignificance.

In order to understand why this is a big deal – at least to me, since I doubt anyone else obsesses over details the way I do – I think I need to identify and define two things. The first thing is: Why do people want to define my beliefs? And the second thing is: Why do I care so much bout remaining an odd mixture of open and closeted?

I can only speculate about why others want to call me an atheist since I have no actual evidence of their motivation. I can imagine one argument being, “Well, you are an atheist, so I just want you to admit it.” It’s not a bad argument. If you think about it, it makes sense. By my opposition’s perception of the word atheist, there may be no negative connotations. There is no problem with being identified as an atheist and there is perhaps even pleasure in the verbal emphasis of their rebellion against their parents’ traditions. Does the word atheist have negative connotations? Or am I projecting these connotations onto the word out of fear of truly accepting that there is no God?

I think the negative connotations that I associate with the word atheist are derived from a fear of branding myself as a heathen to people who do believe in a particular God. I honestly try to respect religious beliefs as long as they have been thought over deeply. Blind faith wins no respect from me, and I do not pretend that it does. However, I honestly believe that if someone has thought carefully about their spirituality and still landed upon Christianity as the solution to their inner turmoil, their beliefs are valid and worth my respect.

 From my interactions with people of varying faiths, I have found that once a Christian (Note: I say Christian only because they represent the majority of my inter-faith interactions) hears the word “atheist” they become more hesitant to open up about their beliefs. The word is off-putting; perhaps they are frightened that this “atheist” will try to heathenize them or perhaps they are just afraid of being judged for hanging onto traditions that many young people now are trying to shake off in pursuit of something fresher.

I find it more sociable to explain the details of my spirituality rather than just saying, “I’m an atheist”. My grapple with religion is a lot more nuanced than this three-syllable word and I refuse to accept that it does my lack of faith justice. Just like teenagers occasionally want to rebel against the labels of “preppy” or “jock”, I need to rebel against the label “atheist” because I feel like it doesn’t do justice to my perception of the spiritual.

The category of atheism is so broad, that it cannot possibly encompass all the different beliefs that people who don’t believe in god have. A retort might be: “That’s not even what the word means, it just describes the state of not believing in god.” And I accept that as one view of the word atheism, but to me there are more connotations that I plan to successfully avoid by refusing to define myself with the word.

I care about my spiritual anonymity; most of my philosophical beliefs I keep a secret. My thoughts are personal and I don’t feel the need to share them or force them upon anyone else. I am not scared of accepting the inexistence of a god. I have no trouble admitting that there is probably no great significance to anything I’m doing outside of humanity’s mild perception of the universe. I am not scared to say I don’t know what will happen when I die and I am not scared to admit that everything about what I believe terrifies me. These are the thoughts that keep my up at night. They leave me curled up beneath the covers absolutely petrified to actually fall asleep because acknowledging another day reminds me of my mortality and my nearing proximity to death.

Atheism is for people who need definitions, something to cling to in order to legitimatize their spirituality in the eyes of others. Humans love language; they have an innate urge to categorize and define. But, as I continue to question my existence, I doubt that I will crave this definition as much as the other people around me. In fact I abhor it, and am wont to ever accept it.

Disinterest in Perfection

Perfection, by it's very definition is an admired and coveted state. The people our society considers most beautiful are the ones with no flaws or at least minimal flaws. Everyone strives to have perfect hair, perfect skin and the perfect balance of being small without being too thin. For me, it's difficult to understand everyone else's push towards this monotony or for me to understand their desire for everyone to be the same. Carbon copies disinterest me.

I prefer surrounding myself with flawed people, and not with some twisted ulterior motive of using them to feel better about myself. I find flaws interesting; Monet's lilies with some black paint spattered across them and a rip in the upper right hand corner would probably attract me more than the originals. I quickly become bored in the absence of novelty, especially when it comes to my social interactions. Frequently I will become nearly obsessively fascinated with particular people; this is rarely out of romantic interest and more often out of a more general curiosity.

Within my own mind it is easy for me to distinguish and compartmentalize between my preoccupations and genuine romantic affection, but this is something I find difficult to explain to other people. It is something I imagine most find difficult to understand. Friends expect you to be attracted to the same types of people they are attracted to; this social pressure has the potential to be aggravating. I know I am supposed to have particular standards: the perfect height should lie somewhere around 6 feet tall "not too short, not too tall for me", of course a guy should be attractive and have played a few varsity sports (tennis and squash do not count), but in addition to being athletic he also has to be smart; I'm a nerd and someone less than intelligent would be unacceptable.

I think it's stupid to latch onto the concept of an ideal person. Being focused on this ideal distracts from experiencing the variation of the personalities around you. Of course, if your particular tastes are skewed in one direction, and you don't feel the need to change, I'm not suggesting that you do change, and I'm not suggesting that I'm overly critical of your take on what's beautiful. I only hope to urge you to accept others' different perceptions of beauty.

I don't take a long time to decide how curious I am about someone. After my first conversation with someone, I generally decide if I want to be friends with them or not. This isn't because I'm judgmental; I don't instantly write someone off and ignore them if I am uninterested, I'm more polite than that, but it is easy for me to stop pursuing friendship of a particular depth without feeling mean. My basis for interest in someone is random; I use no conscious standard to decide who I want to befriend.

The randomness with which I choose my friends could be viewed as a pattern or standard, but it's difficult to pin down and define. If a particular trait stands out to me as different, that will often be enough to interest me for a while. If I've never been friends with someone who fosters a strange obsession with collecting porcelain dolls, that oddity could be enough to make me want to befriend them. A person who seems excessively quiet can be just as interesting to me as someone who is funny and is constantly trying to make people around them laugh.

Openly admitting that I am selective about the people I'm friends with often shocks people . I've been called judgmental, anti-social, mean and told that I should "give everyone a chance". I don't think my critics have any basis upon which to spout their criticisms. Is what I do any worse than approaching a girl or guy at a party because you find him/her attractive? I do the same thing, except I'm more likely to approach the guy standing alone trying not to look bored.

However, I accept that most people are not like me. I try not to judge them for it and I try to understand how they view the world. I wonder what it's like for them; I sometimes think my life would be easier if I thought like everyone else. Although I try to be realistic about being different in this way, it is difficult for me not to get frustrated with my position ever so often. As much as I try to understand everyone else's view of the world, it is irritating to feel like no one is trying to understand me. I don't want to force my perspective on everyone else, but I wish that more people would try to understand. I don't consider myself too anti-social and I wonder why my honesty, which people claim to value so much, is perceived as bitchiness. Perhaps I will understand society better if I try harder to immerse myself in it, despite how isolating this society can be. 

Time Management

If there's one thing you learn from five years of boarding school, it's how to balance your time. Whether or not you intend to learn that skill, it's unavoidable because of the extreme amount of structure, especially in the first few years. From about ages twelve to fourteen I had approximately two hours of study hall per night and during my free periods I sat in a mandatory study hall where proctors quickly curbed my attempts to sneak in episodes of my favorite television shows and failed to foster the fad addictions to various online video games.

When people try to get me to explain how I manage to find the time to do all my homework and get to bed before eleven, while seeming like I've done nothing all day I am often lost for words. (Note: This might be a result of social awkwardness) It's not something I can explain easily. Some of my answers are along the lines of, "I just do it." or "I just like to get stuff out of the way." But this isn't necessarily true. The need to be efficient has been inculcated into my life to the point where it has become routine. Like brushing your teeth before bed or taking a daily shower, time management is a habit I cannot live without.

There is an internet meme referring to time management that is unsurprisingly relatable to the problem of time management.

I've always loved this comic; to quote a great cliché "it's funny because it's true". It's easy to believe that you can have all three and be happy, but everyone knows that's it's nearly impossible to strike the perfect balance.

I'm at a strange place right now where I feel like I have manage to strike this balance. This may be pompous to even admit considering my previous sentence saying it was "nearly impossible" to strike such a balance. The only reason I think I am able to accomplish this goal of balance is because I have changed the way I view the three vertices of the triangle. 

Of course, good grades represent the non-negotiable vertex. My standards of good grades remain roughly the same. I'm not going to all of a sudden accept a 75 as a "good grade" just to feel like my time management training at Groton was worth something. "Enough Sleep" is more variable to me. If I get to bed at 12:30 each night and wake up at 6:30, I find that a reasonable amount of sleep for me to function on. I'm awarded bonus time management points if I can go to bed earlier than that, or if I can afford to wake up a little later. 

As you could probably tell due to my aforementioned note about my social incompetence, maintaining a social life is something I find a bit more difficult. Of course, being essentially socially inept makes my standards of a social life a bit lower than everyone else's. I don't need to constantly be talking (read:screaming) with a group of girls or "hanging out" to feel like I've been social. A long dinner or doing homework in a room filled with other people is often enough  to satisfy that particular vertex for me. 

For me, lowering the standards of a "social life" and "enough sleep" are enough to let me feel like I'm leading a balanced life. For everyone else's quest to become better at time management there are two options: (1) Accept that you can only have two of the vertices of this triangle and find contentedness in having only two or (2) lower your standards of one or more of the vertices so you can be content with having all three no matter how much someone else might see your life as unbalanced. 

Fears

I've always been interested in the brain- studying the neurology chapters in AP Biology were some of my favorite weeks of the class. I love learning about how the brain functions and why certain things happen the way they do. As a part of my nerdiness in this regard, I took a liking to downloading college psychology and neuroscience lectures so I could explore the field sitting on my bed listening to my iPod. One of the first podcasts I listened to was the science of phobia. The podcast was no more than twenty minutes long and was an explanation of the difference between a fear and a phobia. I understood it perfectly on a scientific level, but it brought to mind more philosophical questions regarding fears. What do I fear? What should I fear? How should I prioritize my fears from the relevant to the irrational?

The question "What do I fear?" is probably the most important one for me to figure out. If I am sure of what I fear, then I will be able to conquer it. Although I know fears and phobias are different, I'm sure they are defeated in similar ways. I have a desire to overcome the things I am afraid of, but this desire is useless without knowing where to begin. The things I am afraid of seem so general that even if I correctly identified them, I don't know that it would be useful in my quest for inner peace.

One of the main things that causes me a certain degree of anxiety - which I think of as an aspect of fear - is the future. Yes, I realize that everyone worries about the future to a certain degree, but my level of discomfort with the concept seems unnatural and can occasionally border on the irrational. I focus on all the fathomable outcomes of a decision, honing in on the most negative potential outcomes and living in  paranoia of making an irreversible mistake. In fact, if I try to figure out what I fear most, it all comes down to this fear of the future. Perhaps all this means is that I am not special. Everyone fears the future; I don't see a logical way that this anxiety can be specific to my life, especially during my freshman year of college when most people are in the midst of "finding themselves" or "discovering their passions".

But then, if my fear is not unique, does this mean I shouldn't feel it? I wonder if I can even control this fear if it is so innate. It is possible that I shouldn't try to control this fear, but learn how to live with it. If I acknowledge that I am anxious about the future, yet try to be rational about the existence of my anxiety, perhaps it will lessen the negative effect. This sounds like a simple solution, however it works better theoretically than practically.

 With more dedication, I believe this could lessen my fear of the future, however I'm worried about losing an aspect of my motivation because of it. My anxiety and constant fear causes me to throw myself completely into whatever I'm doing. This fear of failure, of having nothing, helps me to perform as well as I do. If I take a break from that anxiety with a "eff this" attitude, and I find myself slipping, I revert to my hatred of failing to bring me back to success.

In my clichéd attempts at self-discovery, I know that I should spend time evaluating my mental health and my psychological relationship to the things that I fear. Now, I am filled with questions and only theories or potential answers. Nothing definite sticks out as a solution to my problem and I am left to think that there may be no definite solution. Maybe this is something I am meant to struggle with; everyone has some internal struggle and this could be mine. My only job then would be to always have the upper hand in this struggle, trying to never be overwhelmed by the opposition. Regardless of the appearance of a solution, constantly being one step ahead can only be helpful in my quest to conquer what I fear.