Quotes on Quotes on Quotes

Here are just some quotes that I pulled out of my quote books that seemed relevant to our class, and I figured this would be a good place to share them! Enjoy!(:

Oscar Wilde
"The smallest act of kindness is worth more than the grandest intention."

"The heart was made to be broken."

"Never love anybody who treats you like your ordinary."

"You are a wonderful creation. You know more than you think you know, just as you know less than you want to know."

Kurt Vonnegut
"Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you'll look back and realize they were the big things."

"I still catch myself feeling sad about things that don't matter anymore."

Mark Vonnegut (Kurt Vonnegut's son)
" I was back to being polite, the well-tempered paranoid."

Relative to this class
"Literature adds to reality, it does not simply describe it. It enriches the necessary competencies that daily life requires and provides; and in this respect, it irrigates the deserts that our lives have already become." -C.S. Lewis

"Write something worth reading, or do something worth writing." -Benjamin Franklin

"Read books. Care about things. Get excited. Try not to be too down on yourself. Enjoy the ever present game of knowing." -Hank Green

"Life is a tragedy for those who feel and a comedy for those who think." -Horace Walpole

"Write hard and clear about what hurts." -Ernest Hemingway

"A room without books is like a body without a soul." -Marcus Tullius Cicero

"There was something calming in the reticence of all those books, their willingness to wait years, decades even, for the right reader to come along and pull them from their appointed slots. 'Take your time,' the books whispered to me in their dusty voices. 'We're not going anywhere.'" - Nicholas Carr, The Shallows

"There are two rules to success:
1. Never tell everything you know." -Roger H. Lincoln

"Time enjoyed wasting is not time wasted." -John Lennon

"To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong." -Joseph Chilton Pearce

"I've been making a list of things they don't teach you at school. They don't teach you how to love somebody. They don't teach you how to be famous. They don't teach you how to be rich or how to be poor. They don't teach you how to walk away from someone you don't love any longer. They don't teach you how to know what's going on in someone else's mind. They don't teach you what to say to someone who's dying. They don't teach you anything worth knowing." -Neil Gaiman

"I have always imagined that Paradise would be a kind of library." -Jorge Luis Borges

"Paper has more patience than people." -Anne Frank

"I've had a lot of worries in my life, most of which never happened." - Mark Twain

"Why do I write? It's not that I want people to think I am smart, or even that I am a good writer. I write because I want to end my loneliness. Books make people less lonely. That, before and after everything else, is what books do. They show us that conversations are possible across distances." -Jonathan Safran Foer

"There is no friend as loyal as a book." -Ernest Hemingway

"The only way you can write the truth is to assume that what you set down will never be read. Not by any other person, and not even by yourself at a later time. Otherwise you begin excusing yourself. You must see the writing as emerging like a long scroll of ink from the index finger or your right hand; you must see your left hand erasing it." -Margaret Atwood

"The trouble with fiction is that it makes too much sense. Reality never makes sense." -Aldous Huxley

"The more I read, the hungrier I become. Every book seemed promising, each page I turned offered an escapade, the allure of another world, other destinies, other dreams." -Tatiana de Rosnay

"If you don't like to read, you haven't found the right book." -J.K. Rowling

"I can't imagine living a life that didn't involve knowing the difference between too and to." -Ben Adams

"When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library." -Jane Austen

"A half-read book is a half-finished love affair." -David Mitchell

"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering- these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love- these are what we stay alive for." -John Keating

"Words are, of course, the most powerful drug used by mankind." -Rudyard Kipling

"The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug." -Mark Twain

"Try to learn to breathe deeply, really to taste food when you eat, and when you sleep, really to sleep. Try as much as possible to be wholly alive with all your might, and when you laugh, laugh like hell. And when you get angry, get good and angry. Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough." -Ernest Hemingway

"Words do not express thoughts very well. They always become a little different  immediately after they are expressed, a little distorted, a little foolish." -Herman Hesse

"Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know." -Ernest Hemingway

"A library is a hospital for the mind." -Unknown

"You are the books you read, the films you watch, the music you listen to, the people you meet, the dreams you have, the conversations you engage in. You are what you take from these. You are the sound of the ocean, the breath of fresh air, the brightest light and the darkest corner. You are a collective of every experience you have had in your life. You are every single second of every single day. So drown yourself in a sea of knowledge and existence. Let the words run through your veins and let the colors fill your mind until there is nothing left to do but explode. There are no wrong answers. Inspiration is everything. Sit back, relax, and to take it all in. Now, you go out and create something." -Jac Vanek

Dazing Off

In placement of a conversation partner post, due to his early departure, I have written another to make up for it. My intention was to use "the view from your bedroom window" prompt, but it managed to transform itself along the way . I just wrote and went with where my head took it. I apologize for the rambling....

You know those times when you have something specific on your mind and just stare at something, or in a certain direction without actually looking at it? A song plays, or something is mentioned that sets this thought explosion off in your head and you are no longer there. Your body hasn't budged, but you have wandered way off in your head. No longer in your skin, but some place else entirely. "Lights are on, but no one is home" type of deal. This happens to me constantly.
I spend the majority of my time elsewhere, instead of where I physically am, if that makes any sense. Whether it is a memory, imagining what I should or shouldn't have done, and idea forming, or fantasizing about how I wish something will play out (realistically or not), my head is always in full swing. I probably look like a crazy person staring out (or more like at) the window, or, more embarrassingly, someone who I'm not actually looking at. Eyes are deadlocked, but sights aren't exactly registering. Then when I snap back to reality, they are give me this weird, semi-offended look due to my extended stare directed at them.
And then there are times when someone notices my distant gazing and asks what is wrong or what I'm thinking about. But once the spell is broken, those thoughts that felt so real and tangible just moments earlier have vanished and don't seem to matter much back in the real world. So I just form that usual, empty smile and simply reply, "oh nothing really," or "I'm just tired." As much as I would like to let it all out , I sometimes just have to keep the lid on, and allow it to remain bottled up.
Sometimes it is just best to keep certain thoughts in your head, because once you say them out loud they are released into the world where they can be judged, misinterpreted, and used in ways you feared they would be. They would no longer be safely yours It's always a nice feeling to know you have something that is only yours, that no one else can take. Even if it is tearing you up inside, you know it can't hurt anyone else.
Some nights I just wish I could shut my mind off. I reach a point where I am just tired of missing, longing, regretting, and wishing. I just want a break from fighting inside my head. I've always said that if I could shut my mind off for even five minutes, I would be at peace for a lifetime. My mind can be a hectic place. I overthink into things that were never meant to be interpreted further than what they actually were. I play things out when the scene was over where it was last left. Sometimes I just look for meaning where none exists, just because I want there to be some rhyme and reason for the inexplicable happenings in life. Maybe not everything requires meaning. Yes, I believe that everything happens for a reason, but that doesn't mean it is always intended for us to know the rational behind it. Maybe instead of wasting time attempting to decipher occurrences, we should just live, and realize that things will happen, whether we know why or not. I know I need to begin following this philosophy. Why should I keep wasting my precious thoughts and already lacking energy on things that I cannot change, and just appreciate the life I have where events are capable of happening, good or bad?
As crazy as our mind can be sometimes, we need to remember that we are stuck with it our whole lives, so we might as well use it right. Learn to enjoy its capabilities, because if we cannot find sanity within our own minds, there is no way we will survive in this chaotic world we live in.

One Last Hurrah

After a long week of studying, stressing, and eating way too much food, we have finally survived the bi-yearly struggle of finals. We are finally finished, and now are free to enjoy the next month of relaxation and no school-related responsibilities. Pure, sweet freedom. In order to celebrate this triumph, and as one final hurrah before heading our separate ways for break, my roommates and I decided to make a nice little trip to Chipotle to eat away any residual stress from finals, our usual coping mechanism, of course.

We were surprisingly very gracious towards each other at first, figuring that we might as well be nice to each other since we will be gone for a month, but that delusion lasted roughly a grand total of two minutes before the usual banter and lovely remarks at each other once again resumed. The meal, as always, consisted of us stuffing our faces while also cracking up at just about anything and everything. We are just such lovely ladies, full of manners and grace every time we sit down to a nice meal. Ha. Yeah, not a chance. Anyone who caught a glimpse in our direction soon regretted it, because we probably looked like a group of wild wolves that had finally come across its first prey in a few days. One could have assumed that we hadn't seen food for a week by the vigor we were scarfing our food down with. I must say, though, that those giant Chipotle burritos are tough to eat graciously.You try to eat one of those suckers without spilling a drop. I'll give you a dollar if you can. Anyways, the other two made their's disappear a little bit faster than I did, due to the inability for me to shut up at times, and so we sat there chatting a bit more as I finished up my over-sized dish.

Finally it was time for us to head out, along with having to say goodbye to one that was heading directly home. It was about a five minute scene of us hugging and appearing to be kind to each other for once, before someone smacked another in the back of the head, along with arguments of who was her favorite (obviously me) broke out. Then came the overly dramatic, fake crying goodbyes and all that jazz that the usual college girls do to each other. Loveyouuukissesskaybye. She eventually drove away, which was our queue to repetitively yell how much she was going to miss us. It was quite the sight. The two of us remaining were both running on very small amounts of sleep, and definitely delirium had kicked it. We started saying this one extremely random word that we thought was absolutely hilarious, and just about died laughing the entire ride back to campus. We were getting so creative, we thought, with the various ways we could use the word and just laughed harder and harder each time. I soon found myself bawling from laughing so hard, with streams of tears running down my face. It even reached a point of hysterical laugher/crying where I practically could not breathe. I know this sounds extremely dramatic, but I am almost positive I have never laughed so hard in my life. I must have been the lack of sleep and the relief that finals were finally over and that I could now completely relax, but whatever it was, it was ridiculous. My sides were completely split, my stomach ached like no other, and my face just hurt from the laughter, not to mention the fact that it looked like I had just gotten dumped by the love of my life with the amount of water running down my face. We had absolutely lost it, and it was fantastic.

We finally arrived back to campus, having semi-pulled ourselves back together, and had to say our final goodbyes as well. It would have been sadder had we not still been laughing like maniacs, but maybe that was for the best. I am so grateful for those two kiddos. I don't think I would have survived this week, or even this semester, without them. I have never laughed harder than I have with them, and it has been oh-so-necessary every time. I couldn't have imagined this semester coming to a close any other way.

So Long, Friend

Last week I met with Meshari for the last time. I didn't know until the end of our meeting that it was going  to be our last, because he was going back home the next day. I wish I would have known that at the beginning, because I had so many more questions to ask. I don't think I would have carried it out any differently, it is just something about last times of anything makes me feel like I need to make it important. Like there is some set rule that we must somehow make the final times something worth remembering, as if the other times alone were not worthy of memory. Maybe I'm just getting a little sentimental now, but I can't help it sometimes...

We met at Our Spot in Union Grounds, and I was feeling the pre-finals week stress, so naturally I purchased an ice cold pint of Blue Bell Pecan Pralines n' Cream ice cream to silence the anxiety for just a little bit. Meshari said he had a big dinner with his brothers later, so he refrained from eating. What a champ. We mainly talked about him having to take his brother to the hospital the week before (that caused him to have to miss one of our meetings; I suppose that is a reasonable excuse...). He had told me the week he had to make the impromptu trip that he believed his brother had the flu. He had texted me about this at the time, and as always trying to help even in situations where I know I am not at all needed, I tried to offer my two cents, not that I had a whole lot of experience with household illnesses. He said that his head was aching very badly and that he had stomach pains and was throwing up. I mean, I might not be a doctor or anything,  according to my calculations and spot-on diagnostic skills, I would say that his brother was indeed sick. And of course, I was right. At the time I suggested that he give his brother some Sprite or any form of lemon-lime soda to try to at least alleviate the stomach pains a little, and to maybe make him some chicken noodle soup or something of the sort, just because these were the things that my mom always did for us growing up. One thing I learned from that was if Campbell's can't fix a tummy ache, I don't know what can, and best of luck to ya! Meshari said he appreciated the advice and said that they didn't have either of those in the house... Well, at least I tried! He said that they were in the Emergency Room for a very long time, which we all know there is usually never anything "Emergency" about the ER... I told him that I had been there twice this semester so far, once for a friend from 5-7am, and another time for me spanning 11pm-2am and it still took forever even with us being the only patients in the area.... He was pretty confused as to why it takes so long in there, and I told him he wasn't alone in that bewilderment. The doctor finally told them that his brother indeed had the flu and gave him some medicine before they were on their way. He was again confused as to why they took so long to just say something as simple as that, and I told him that I wished I could help him... Being in clinicals in high school, I had the opportunity to shadow in our town ER, and I am well aware that there is usually no rush occurring in any part of that area, almost at any time of day. C'est la vie, I suppose!

We didn't have too much time to talk because he had to rush off to meet his brothers, but I did, as always, enjoyed getting to see him. I asked when we could meet for our last two times, and I was sadly informed that they were heading home the next day and that this would be our last meeting. It was pretty sad... I thanked him for being so generous with his story telling and patient with my lack or international knowledge, and I wished him luck with his future schooling. He told me that I was one of the nicest people he has met here, and that he really enjoyed being able to spend time with me and teach me about his country. He said that he hoped I could see Saudi Arabia one day, and that he will keep his promise to show me around if I ever go. What a sweetheart! We hugged it out before going our separate ways. I was really sad.): I am so glad that I had the opportunity to get to talk to such a great guy and learn so much that I would have otherwise missed out on knowing. I can only hope that I can meet more people as kind as he is, and maybe even one day visit Saudi Arabia and witness all that he had told me by a first hand account. So long friend, maybe one day we will meet again.

Sleep?

sleep [sleep]   verb, slept, sleep·ing, noun

verb (used without object)

1.      to take the rest afforded by a suspension of voluntary bodily functions and the natural suspension, complete, or partial, of consciousness; cease being awake. 

I decided to begin this post with the definition of the word “sleep” (courtesy of the oh-so-helpful dictionary.com), because I seem to have forgotten what it is. It is currently 3am during the week of finals, so I am quite certain that many students have also experienced this similar slight lapse in knowledge. To give you an idea of how distant I have been with this old friend, let me provide a brief summary of the week thus far. I awoke to my always pleasant alarm at 9 am Sunday morning, and began studying for the wretched organic chemistry, which I am pretty sure that I would feel more successful by going down to the zoo and having a nice wrestling match with the lions than I do in this class. I continued studying this abhorrent subject, stopping only to find happiness in food (meals were actually the only thing I had to look forward to all weekend) and to cry (which was even more enjoyable than studying), all the way up until I made the wintry trek over to SidRich Lecture Hall 2 to face the devil himself, at 11 am Monday morning. If I do my math correctly, I was up for about 26 hours at that point. I then remained perched in seat B-13 for a solid three hours questioning everything I ever thought I knew about life. After finally being released from the grasp of Satan himself (organic chemistry, not our professor; he’s actually a pleasant man), my delusional sense of relief of being done with that final was quickly knocked out of me by the bitter cold slapping me across the face as soon as I walked outside.

In zombie-like fashion, I dragged myself back to Sammy Hall to take a much needed nap so that I could at least semi-consciously study for nochem part two, our lab final which was the next morning. Being the social butterfly I only tend to be when procrastinating, I wandered around the hall talking to anyone and everyone for a while before taking a nap. The fact that I even stall before taking a nap astounds me. Finally, around 3 pm, I was reacquainted with my long lost friend, my bed, for a mid-afternoon siesta. Around 5 pm, per-request, I was pulled back into consciousness by my lovely roommates singing and jumping on me, with promises of food. Under any other circumstances I would have grumbled a few very kind words, politely asking them to let me sleep more (…….), but in this case, food.

After regaining at least a small percentage of sanity during our much needed trip to McCalister’s, I began the arduous task of trying to force myself to start studying… At this point my brain was practically kaput and decided to stop doing what I wanted it to, especially anything relating to ochem. Inattentiveness was through the roof, which says a lot for my already regularly scattered brain, and I my behaviors continually shifted from bouncing around to laying on some surface for any period of time. Even with the clearest mind I have difficulties formulating sentences correctly and interacting with others like a usual human being, so you can imagine the struggle I faced in the state I was currently in. Bless any poor soul who found me in their presence at any point within this time frame. I finally forced myself to sit down and begin looking at my study material. And looking I did. Looking was all I did. Did I process anything? Nope. Did I feel any more prepared after this than I did beforehand? Not a chance. This continued for a few hours before I did the most productive thing I did all night by going to bed. And by going to bed, I mean taking a nap during the time most people end their day before starting the next. This two hour nap was just a small break in my never ending day, lasting from 2 am to 4 am, before I woke up to remind myself again how fantastic finals were. So that added up to roughly 4 hours of sleep over a 43 hour period at this point…

I studied until I had to once again face the Texas snow (like that’s an actual term), along with reality, by lugging myself back over to lecture hall 2. This was only about an hour and a half of strongly disliking life, before meandering over to Scharbauer to take my Sociology final, of which I hadn’t even thought about opening my notes to study for. Luckily I had about half an hour before go time, so I had at least some time to crack down. I was torn between studying and celebrating being forever through with the death class, never having to think about organic chemistry ever again until possibly having to go all Breaking Bad if other life plans didn’t pan out (that was a joke…). The final took me about half an hour to take, and I was finally free from tests for the semester.

Finally having the opportunity to sleep, naturally, I didn’t. I was instantly energized after leaving the classroom, and decided to do all the things I haven’t been able to do throughout the week, except sleep. Granted, I was no more functional than a zombie, but for some reason I just didn’t want to sleep. I wanted to be in the presence of other people, but didn’t necessarily want to actually interact with them. It was a conundrum, but I was too tired to think too hard on it, so I just remained sunk in a lounge chair in the study lounge, headphones in and drowsy eyes set on the computer. I discovered how fun Buzzfeed was (thank goodness I did not discover that when I needed to be studying) and somehow three hours passed without me moving any more than was necessary to operate my computer. I definitely felt like a high achieving college student as my eyes burned from a combination of lack of sleep and from them being locked on a bright screen for hours. Around 5 pm (56 hours now?) I finally removed myself from my throne to go sleep. Just kidding, I didn’t go sleep. Got ya. My roommates and I had another wonderful feast, this time of the Chuy’s sort. Delirium had long since set in, and it became very difficult to tell what exactly was real and what was fabricated in my head… It was quite entertaining, let me tell ya. I applaud the people who put up with me at these times of insanity that I often fall to in my life. Bless them, every one.

     Upon returning to the dorm, I could have slept, but, you guessed it, I once again avoided contact with my inviting pillow. I continued partaking in much nothingness until around 5 am. I don’t know why this seemed like a good idea to me, but sleeping obviously didn’t. I then finally did crash. And boy, did I crash hard. I was once again awoken by my parental roommates later that day, for dinner at 6:30 pm. Whoops… I guess that is the low one reaches when they go 68 hours with only 4 hours of sleep…

I would say that I couldn’t believe that I reached that new low and went that long without sleeping, but, unlike any normal, functional human being, that was nothing new for me. All-nighters and two-hour sleepnaps became routine this semester. There was even one week similar to the one I just described, that spanned 80 sleepless hours. That one was way worse, and reached the point that my roommates had to literally force me to bed… Again, bless their kind, gracious, caring souls for putting up with me.

So moral of the story, sleep is good. Sleep is healthy. Not sleeping is not, and without it, you can go crazy. Your body and mind will stop working, and people will begin worrying about you. There are also chances that you may have sleep paralysis, which I did a couple of times. If you have not experienced this terror, just hope that you don’t, because it is scary… We are always told how important sleep is, and by being in a pre-med setting I have seen how that is scientifically accurate and have always stressed the importance of it to people around me. When it comes to taking care of myself though, I have lived life according to the “I’ll sleep when I’m dead mentality,” which seemed to be harmless up to this point. I now know perfectly well otherwise, as I have experienced many negative side effects of not resting. Of all things that I learned this semester, the importance of sleep was probably the biggest, which I definitely learned, first hand, by the lack of it. Over break I am going to get re-acquainted with the luxury of sleep, and will continue that practice through next semester as well. Much of my inability to function as a regular human being is already a lost cause, but at least now I know that I can avoid making that struggle worse by living off of synthetic sleep, and only using the real deal from now on. Who said you don’t learn anything in college? Go frogs.  

Defying American Stereotypes

A few weeks ago (yes, I am just writing about this now…), I met up with Meshari for our usual powwow at Union Grounds, and was informed that he had encountered some recent stresses. He was told that he has to find a school for him to attend for further education within the month or he will get kicked out of the program. I remember looking at colleges over a two year period in high school, trying to decide that TCU was the school for me (or more like prove to my parents that all other schools were inferior), so I can’t imagine having to search and make that crucial choice within a month. Then again, it takes me twenty minutes to decide what granola bars I want at Target, so making decisions isn’t my strong suit… Luckily at this point he had already zeroed in on Tarrant County College to begin his studies. He wanted to stay in Ft. Worth, and I’ve heard great things about TCC, so it sounded like a solid choice for him! He said that he was meeting with advisors there to get some more information, such as their policy with his scholarship from Saudi Arabia, along with other basic information we all probably asked when researching schools. He asked if he could call me if he had any questions or needed more help, which I gladly allowed. I definitely wanted to help as much as possible, and felt pretty honored that he wanted to use me as a resource to come to for assistance. It was really cool that he trusted me with that!

I was really curious about why it appeared that he had to find a school on such short notice, so I asked Meshari about it to try to understand a little more in depth about how the program works. He said that his scholarship was good for a year and a half in the Intensive English Program and five years at a university to earn a degree. He had to go home to Saudi Arabia last summer due to some problems he had to tend to there, so he was told he would receive an extra three months for this search, but that is apparently no longer the case. He praised the Saudi Arabia government for the great things they are doing, but said he was pretty frustrated with his advisor for being pretty apathetic with all of this, and not providing his students the attention they need. Because it is an international program, he was assigned an advisor in Washington D.C. which I can imagine makes things even more difficult. In his frustration, Meshari said that it would have been easier if this advisor was from Saudi Arabia. This made sense to me, because then they would most likely be very familiar with this process, as there is such a large amount of students who go through this program. Assuming the advisor was American, I asked if he had faced other problems or had other frustrations with Americans over the course of time he has been here so far, or if we were generally okay. I just know that there are negative stereotypes about Americans in other countries, so I was really curious to hear a personal account of this from another perspective, and see if the stereotypes were proved to be true or not. I am very proud of this country and our people, and I wanted to make sure that we aren’t as bad as some people make us out to be. He said that his advisor was actually from Egypt, and that he wished they were American. That was actually a pretty nice relief for me. Being my ignorant American self, I took it more as a good comment towards the US than a negative one towards the advisor’s home country, also just because I didn’t think he was making the comment intentionally pointed at them, but at the situation. I also reminded myself to think of it more about how it was just the advisor’s lack of effort towards these students, regardless of where he was from. Meshari then went on to say that he loves studying here because he really likes Ft. Worth and America, and that he enjoys our people as well. We talked about how he has encountered a few people who haven’t been the nicest towards him because he is from Saudi Arabia and Muslim, but he said that those people could be found anywhere in the world, and not just in the US. It doesn’t bother him much because he is very proud of his home and religion, regardless of what others may think. I thought that was a mature and respectable outlook to have, and told him that it was awesome that he has that positive attitude. He then said the sweetest thing anyone has ever told me, which was that he hopes one day all the people in the world would be as nice as I was. I was so incredibly touched by that. He has said the absolute nicest things to me during our meetings!

He also said that he would love to show me around if I ever visited Saudi Arabia. I think it is great that he is so proud of his country while also allowing himself to love other countries as well. Too often we come across people that express pride in their country by bashing others, which is not how it should be at all. I wish more people around the world, including Americans, were as open-minded as Meshari is. It was definitely nice to hear that we weren’t as bad as some stereotypes make us out to be, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t room for improvement! World peace y'all!

I'm a Big Kid Now?

Approaching the end of the first semester of my sophomore year, I am realizing something that should seem quite obvious but is just now hitting me more so than it has up to this point: I am growing up. Who knew, right? I am becoming less of a pseudo-adult full of blissful ignorance, and more of a real one thanks to a few nice, solid slaps of reality.

Like I said, this should be an obvious transformation, especially once coming to college and experiencing life without the secure hand of my mother to cling to. Though in my case, I feel like this progression into adulthood began at a relatively earlier time in my life than for some others. I’ve always been pretty independent when it came to taking care of myself, so coming to college wasn’t a huge transition for me in those regards. I began my first job at a chocolate and coffee shop when I was fifteen, where I was soon trusted with a key to the store and most of my shifts consisted of me running the shop by myself. I continued to work through high school, sometimes even up to three jobs at once. Even with a minimum income, I paid for what I could, such as gas and car insurance, along with usual small purchases. My parents still helped with money, don’t get me wrong, but this was my way of helping out. Also that year, my mom, whose sole occupation for the previous twelve years was to keep me and my younger brother and sister breathing and out of juvy, began a full-time job, handing the family care-taking reins over to the oh-so-responsible first born, yours truly. And so began my life as part-time student/part-time athlete/part-time employee/part-time mom, making it pretty safe to say that I often felt too much like an adult at times. This was the balance of responsibilities all the way through high school. And until recently, the only big milestone that really gave me that feeling of maturity upon coming to college was the delightful adoption of student loans. Something about signing a contract saying that I’ll do something in years’ time just seems awfully adult to me, let alone one that involves me owing more money than I was worth. Other than that, along with the literal amount of time, I didn’t feel much closer to “adulthood” than I did in high school.

Within the past month or so, that view has drastically changed. I was hired on as an ambassador for an MCAT preparatory company that I applied for, initially thinking it was just something sponsored by TCU for students to do. I learned pretty quickly that my initial judgment was a tad off base. Apparently this is a small, up and coming company, based in Michigan, that is making its first attempts to spread their products to schools across the country, via their six ambassadors. My job is to talk to representatives of pre-med programs and create partnerships with them, along with getting the word out about this company to anyone who may find it of interest. I am technically an independent contractor, meaning I can operate however I think is best to have the greatest productivity, including the ability to hire other people if I feel the need to. I had to sign a contract and fax it over to their headquarters. Again, signing my life over seems pretty adult. I went from a pre-med student to a marketing representative for a company. What?

Then came the monumental task of figuring out a housing situation for next year… If there was one thing that has caused more stress than anything else in college so far, it was this. Add that to an even more than usual stressful time with classes, and you get a few sleepless weeks of near insanity. At first I was super excited about having the opportunity to house hunt. Just the thought of this made me feel more grown up, which I had apparently been missing. I enjoyed the responsibility of finding a place that could realistically fit the criteria we set out for: relatively cheap, within walking distance of campus, three bedrooms. Challenge accepted. How hard could it be, right? Uhh wrong. It started out being thrilling and intriguing for me, but soon became extremely frustrating on all levels. Between issues with who was living with us, our disability to agree on what we wanted, and every house that we actually agreed on instantly being leased, I was about to rip my hair out. I reached the verge of seriously calling it quits and just living in my hammock next year to spare any remaining sanity I had left. I had done so much research that I literally exhausted all internet sources, and could easily tell you the address, rent (divided by three), and walking time to campus of every available house within a five-mile radius of TCU. I emailed and talked on the phone to more strangers than I have in the complete previous 19 years and 7 months of my existence. There were so many things to take into account that I never had to think about before. Like the only thing I had known about utility costs up to this point were either from Monopoly (pay owner 4 times amount shown on dice/10 times if they own both), or from them being the reason my house always felt like a sauna in the summer and a giant walk-in freezer in the winter compared to everyone else’s houses. Lawn care? No, that’s my brother’s job. There is a lot more that goes into having to manage a house than I ever really considered. Now I not only have to acknowledge that these aspects exist, but I have to choose a house based on them. It became quite evident that I was not nearly as knowledgeable in the subject of Real Life as I thought I was. I never really worried about this kind of stuff because I had it all neatly filed away in the “Grown- Up Senna Problems” compartment in my head. This made me realize that it was time to unlock that drawer, which meant that I was indeed growing up, and in a much larger way this time. None of the other dotted-line signatures felt nearly as mature and sophisticated as did the one on the housing lease we miraculously decided on. Not only did we legally agree to a commitment that would span a year, but a commitment that doesn’t even begin until next June. I’d say that legally binding oneself via a paper and pen is definitely one of the staple aspects of adulthood, and I seemed to have done that just left and right this past month. It was a sweet relief that the horrendous process was over, along with a grand satisfaction that we were capable of making some very critical adult decisions.

Maybe this whole adult thing is harder than it seems, but at the same time, maybe I am more capable of making it in the real world than I thought. I'll apparently be finding out sooner than later. Who knew that it would take getting a big kid job and a big kid house to actually start feeling like a big kid?

Hi My Friend

When I texted my conversation partner, Meshari, last week asking if he wanted to meet up and chat for a bit, he began his response with "hi my friend." I know this wasn't meant to be some grand gesture or anything that should provoke a lot of thought, but I couldn't help but feel really special about this. I guess it is just something that we don't usually hear ourselves addressed as, and it made me smile. Mama, I've got friends!¹ It was also nice to hear that he did not see me as just some ignorant American (in reference to my first post) that he was obligated to entertain every once in a while, but as a buddy. Granted, that was followed by him saying that he couldn't meet that week, for which he obviously had a legitimate reason and was by no chance just avoiding hanging out with me. We're compadres now, it's official.² 

We continued to chat, beginning with the two tests he had the next day (See? I told you he had an honest reason for skipping out on me). He had a grammar and a writing test which he thinks are the two most difficult aspects of English. Being impressively monolingual and all, I have to agree.³ I am well aware that I still struggle with writing and grammar almost to the level of incompetence at times, even after 19 years’ worth of practice. We all constantly see and read grammar and spelling mistakes, along with the all-around butchering of the English language, regardless of the age or education of the person making the flub.⁴ I have so much respect for those that can fluently speak multiple languages. I can’t even imagine being able to learn and implement a completely new language, let alone at the rate that these IEP students do, considering that I can hardly speak this one. Meshari later informed me that he thought he did well on both of his tests, which I was exceptionally excited to hear! I asked him if college students in Saudi Arabia took the same general types of classes that we do, because I find it slightly difficult to imagine them taking, say, a Disasters and Failures class.⁵ I just can’t help but thinking that we generally overanalyze and/or categorize things enough to devote full semesters to some seemingly specific topics. And I am not saying that they don’t do this, I just think maybe not to the level of insignificance that I think we do sometimes. Again, this is among the plethora of things that my small, ignorant American brain tends to have a tough time fathoming. Meshari answered that they take the same things that we do, with the differences in classes being that they are in Arabic, he thinks they are easier, and that we take more classes than they do. At our first meeting he said that he found the classes here more difficult than those back at home, even the ones he was always pretty good at, like math. I would assume that some of this difficulty could be attributed to the cultural differences in the approaches to these subjects, both in teaching and in practice. But then again, this could be my inept mind speaking.

I definitely found it quite interesting to hear his comparisons between schools in America and in Saudi Arabia. Not only is he learning how to live in another country, but also having to learn a new and different way of learning. I find it all so fascinating and hope that over time my horizons can be broadened in at least understanding, if not experience. I am so grateful to have the opportunity to get to know Meshari, who seems to enjoy discussing all this with me, and has been more than accommodating. This poor kid has been such a sport by enthusiastically answering my abundance of questions and curiosities.6 I guess that’s just what friends do, right?(: ⁷

¹No, my mother doesn't frequent my blog. But if she did, hi mom, grades are good, bed is made (......), and no, I'm not having the kind of fun you pretend not to have had in college.

²No take-backs

³With a dip of Spanish speaking skills enough to introduce myself and to say that the lettuce is interesting

⁴Refer to Anguished English by Richard Lederer for further testimony

⁵Actually, I can picture this if it were named something along the lines of Epic Fails by Americans.

⁶With only a minimal amount of “silly American” head shakes and chuckles.

⁷A special thanks to Dave Barry for the inspiration for the footnotes. Much appreciated homie.

Laughter is the Best Medicine

Unlike what our oh-so-chipper friend, Morreal, tirelessly attempted to get across to us, I strongly believe in the benefits and innocence of laughter. Laughter doesn't always have to be spiteful, or make us feel superior; sometimes it is just about the connection to other people that it brings, and can be a much needed relief. Morreal obviously did not have a sense of humor, unless the title of his book was supposed to be ironic, and if so, touché sir, touché. 

The best laughter always manages to come at times it is most needed. This definitely occurred to me a couple of weeks ago. After consciously waiting for a "fit of uncontrollable laughter," I finally had an experience that deserved this title. In fact, this wasn't just a few minutes span, but seemed to be carried through an entire evening. Right smack in the middle of one of the most stressful/sleepless weeks this semester, following a particularly nerve-wracking night of house searching, my roommates and I decided that there was no better way to forget about our current struggles than to indulge in the exquisite Mexican cuisine that is Fuzzy's. We all share the same belief that food can be quite the antidote for any emotional strife. 

It didn't take us very long after sitting down to our savory feast for most of the tension that had built up in each of us over the week to be completely dispelled. I can hardly remember anything that we actually talked about; only the scene of us all splitting with laughter in the middle of Fuzzy's remains vivid in my mind. It mainly consisted of two of us partaking in our usual, ridiculous banter, while the other just humored us, as she always does, along with the telling of one of those "you'll laugh about this later" embarrassing stories from elementary school that was definitely not the most suitable for the dinner table, especially at such a fine establishment. It must have been the delirium from both mental and physical exhaustion we were each experiencing that made everything just so darn funny. The tears streaming from my eyes, I believe, were due to a combination of relief that it was still possible to find anything this funny after all the stress had been compressing any form of happiness, along with quite a bit of "I can't believe this conversation is happening." I'm pretty sure this was exactly what we all needed most at that point in time, just a little bit of insanity to regain our sanity. 

If the episode at dinner wasn't enough, we found ourselves in these fits again a few hours later back in the room. We were attempting to have a semi-serious meeting about future living situations, when we lost our wits once again. The same two of us went completely awol again, while the other sat there questioning her decision of agreeing to live with us not only one year, but two. There was ridiculous hollering, many thrown items (with even more missing their intended targets, if that were even possible), and quite a bit of creative name-calling that we were actually pretty proud of. This was surprisingly not a rare occurrence in Room 314, but this time did seem more entertaining than most. There was a pause in the outrageous warfare to examine a pained wrist of the one-third that was not partaking in the ruckus. After thorough examination, we established that the ailing region might have been slightly out of place. With my extensive knowledge in the field of health care, being a second year neuroscience major and all, I suggested that she (currently on the verge of throwing up due to her squeamishness) should bang it on something to knock it back into its usual position. And so began a very careful and delicate series of yanks, slams, and squeezes. Why she permitted us to conduct these obviously accredited medical procedures, I couldn't tell ya. As we were performing these complex and strenuous operations in attempts to salvage the critically wounded wrist, there was a knock at the door, and a group of our guy friends stumbled in. After initial confusion about the chaotic scene they walked into, they each caught sight of the source of all the shenanigans, and were all just as disturbed at the appearance of the wrist as the one it belonged to. So we have one girl who is basically green in the face from the apparently nauseating sight of her wrist; four, usually known for being crass, boys, also about to pass out; and the two other girls who are having just a field day battering this poor, aching joint. It was quite the sight for sore eyes, to say the least. This was then followed by some more horseplay between the two overly-hyper residents, of which (between the immature jeers thrown and overall rowdiness) resembled roughhousing of two 7 year-old boys more so than that of two female college sophomores. The cowering guys, who were used to engaging in this type of behavior themselves, were dumbfounded by this spectacle, which made this situation even more amusing. Might I add that this was the boys' first visit to our oh-so-humble abode...

Overall, it was definitely quite the night of nuttiness. Between the relief of us being able to go insane on our own terms, and the incongruity of our actions versus the boys' reactions, I'd say we experienced innocent comic relief at its finest, regardless of what Morreall would drone on about it. This night of tomfoolery was just what we needed in order to avoid self-destructing, as laughter was indeed the best medicine to cure all (minus the wounded wrist) of our troubles. 





This novel of a blog post was brought to you by Monster Absolutely Zero energy drink and Blue Bell Pecan Pralines n' Cream ice cream.

Insightful Abnormal Psychology Reads

In my Abnormal Psychology class, we were assigned to read and analyze a memoir (chosen from a list) by someone with a mental disorder. I chose The Eden Express by Mark Vonnegut, because yes, he is the son of renowned author, Mark Vonnegut (who wrote Cat's Cradle that we will read later this semester in Lit and Civ), and because the description of the book said that Mark took a humorous approach to his narrative while describing his not-so-humorous experiences with Schizophrenia (later found out he was misdiagnosed, and that he really had Bipolar Disorder with psychosis, but still). I knew that reading someone's account of their battle with their own mind could be very intense and possibly difficult to read, which I knew I could handle, but given the option to read one with at least a slight uplifting tone, I chose to avoid the more depressing ones. 

After learning about schizophrenia in class, I was well aware of how debilitating the disease is, and of all the difficulty it causes in not only the life of the afflicted one, but in those of their families and loved ones as well. It is characterized by delusions and/or hallucinations, which essentially shatters their reality, disabling them from differentiating between what is real to everyone else, and what appears to be real only to them, which is extremely difficult for me to wrap my head around. 

I personally really enjoyed the book and found it extremely fascinating and entertaining. I have often wondered what it is like to think like someone with a mental illness as controlling as schizophrenia or bipolar, and Mark Vonnegut’s narrative was the perfect opportunity to do just that. Just reading his thoughts almost made me lose my own sense of reality in a way. It was so difficult at times to determine what was really going on, and what was just happening in his head, so I can’t even begin to fathom how he actually felt at the time. 

Observing his reality in comparison to what was really most likely happening (along with what definitely was not happening) can really make someone question what exactly “reality” is. Even before the illness struck, he was very thoughtful and curious about many things in life, wanting to find meaning and aspired to do something great. Then once an episode hit, those thoughts were completely blown up, out of proportion. He found the most profound meaning in every little thing, felt the strongest connection to everyone and everything, and believed he knew all there is to know about anything at all. Aren’t those things many of us in some way or another dream of doing and having? If I ever reached that point of absolute satisfaction and happiness, I wouldn’t want to leave it either. And the frustration that he felt when nobody understood, or was as enthusiastic about all the things he was, I believe is completely relatable. But overall I was in awe of how someone’s mind could operate like that. How what he believed, he saw. 

My favorite quote in the book was, “I was back to being polite, the well-tempered paranoid.” I really felt a strong connection to that line, because it perfectly depicted what I oftentimes experience. His constant concern for others, not wanting to step on toes, and trying not to be a burden to anyone else was a very evident underlying message in his delusions and hallucinations. His subconscious, usually suppressed, thoughts were the voices actually controlling him, and I sometimes feel like that could happen to any of us. 

By reading this book, I was definitely able to gain a better understanding of what someone with a mental illness goes through, and how debilitating it can be, and I actually found myself able to relate to many aspects of Mark’s experience. I feel like many people, myself included, can be pretty ignorant in our views and opinions in regards to mental illnesses sometimes. Whether it is the belief that they are all dangerous, or that they are just helpless and have no chance of improving their life and circumstances, or even that they are just "faking it" for various reasons,  it seems like we don't give them the benefit of the doubt. Just because there is no physical indications that something is wrong, such as a broken bone or a tumor, does not mean that they do not deserve the same respect and opportunities as those without a mental disorder. I know that I am guilty of these thoughts just as much as the next person, but reading this book definitely gave me great insight into how the mind of someone with a mental disorder operates, helping me avoid believing the general stigmas around these people. If anyone is looking for a fascinating book to add to their reading list, I highly recommend The Eden Express!

Typical Ignorant American

When we were first informed that we would be assigned a foreign exchange student in the Intensive English Program to meet with and blog about, I was slightly apprehensive. It definitely sounded like a very interesting and beneficial experience for both us and our partner. The only thing was, it required the interest and openness of our partner as well, which was what I was most nervous about. I have always enjoyed listening to different perspectives, regarding almost anything, so I was very excited to have the opportunity to hear a personal account of a completely different lifestyle. I am not the most knowledgeable about life in other countries, which is pretty typical for Americans for the most part. And I don't like stereotyping, and have even more disdain towards falling into them, but a "typical ignorant American" is exactly what I feel like when it comes to global awareness. So I was both excited to learn about life outside of the United States, and nervous in regards to their attitude towards both having to meet with me, along with towards my American ignorance. I just had to hope for the best!

I finally had the opportunity to meet my conversation partner, Meshari, this past Wednesday. I figured that Union Grounds would be a suitable meeting place, and looked for the person who was most obviously looking for someone else as well. Luckily, he was the first one I awkwardly approached. After we each explained how to pronounce our names (this time I didn't mind having to do that for mine, considering I wasn't quite sure how to say his either...), we took a seat and started chatting. All of the worries I had about having to talk to a complete stranger for an hour instantly dissipated. Meshari was very talkative, and understanding of my lack of knowledge of Saudi Arabia. I was slightly afraid that the conversation would turn into more of an interview than just a talk, but that also was not an issue. He was very excited to talk about his country, and really enjoyed comparing his home to the United States. Two of his brothers are also at TCU, one is in the program as well, and the other is working towards a degree, so that made it a lot smoother of a transition to the States. He said that he barely knew any English before coming here, but was able to almost fully converse in English after just around a month. I took Spanish for three years in high school, and hardly knew a lick of it, so I am so impressed at how quickly people become fluent in another language after living there for such a short amount of time. 

I learned so much about Saudi Arabia. I don't know what I originally imagined it as, but whatever that image was continued to change the more and more he told me about it. I knew that it was quite a religious country, with the majority practicing Islam, but I didn't really consider how much it dictated every day life. Meshari told me that they pray at five specified times a day, when they go as a family to the local Mosque. He says that the Mosque isn't as convenient to go to in Ft. Worth, so he just prays at home when he can't make it there. He talked about how it was difficult to fast for 30 days during Ramadan here in Texas, because he had to be around food and people eating all the time, where back at home he didn't have to worry about that. Alcohol is completely outlawed there, which would make sense since Saudi Arabia is governed by Islamic law. Women are also not allowed to drive, which Meshari said they were the only country that still do not allow them to drive. I also somehow did not know that they were ruled by a king. His name is Abdullah, and he has been ruling Saudi Arabia since 2005. Meshari is quite fond of him, as he says that the government helps pay for a lot of things in the every day lives of the citizens. He said that everything is relatively cheap in Saudi Arabia, especially compared to the United States, because the government helps pay for so much. I asked about the foreign exchange program, and how it all works, and he said that you can basically just ask for a scholarship for the program, and you can get it. Apparently this program began a few years ago by the king, in order to create job diversity and opportunities for the youth, along with to build connections with other countries. Meshari said that since their economy is based on their oil exporting, they want to find other ways to keep it alive for whenever the oil runs out. I thought this was pretty brilliant. He said that this year they have over 200,000 students in this program around the world. Now that sounds like quite the networking project! From this we talked about a difference in the overall mentality of our countries, as their students study abroad to almost directly benefit their country, while our students study abroad to build them more as individual, which might aid in our personal benefit to the country. It makes sense, considering that Saudi Arabia is a collectivist country, while the United States is definitely an individualist one. I'm not saying either is better or worse than the other, I just find it all very interesting. It's all in the perspective. 

Well this was a lot longer than I was originally expecting, so I should probably tie it up. These topics were not even close to everything we talked about in our meeting. I learned so much about Saudi Arabia and the life of a foreign exchange student in just this one conversation. I sure hope we didn't breeze through all the possible topics, but judging from the ease of this first conversation, I have no doubt that I have nothing to worry about. I am so excited and grateful to have Meshari as my partner, and can't wait to learn more from him soon!