"A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books."

 (via kiat)

Walt Whitman inspires me everyday.
I was meditating the other day, and I stumbled upon this most intriguing thought. The thought that our own spirits are trapped in the confines of society, imprisoned in our homes, and schools, and work. Of course, the value of education and a strong work ethic should be placed in the highest pedestal, however, when have we ever the chance to just breathe and sip away at life?

Winter break is what my school calls our Christmas vacation. However, for me, it is no break at all; it's actually rather contradictory. I've been trapped at home, completing homework assignments and studying and managing my time to the most minute increments. It's rather depressing, now that I think about it. Why pile on hefty amounts of work when it's a break, a disconnect from the stresses of school already omnipresent?

When you are at your deathbed (whenever it may be, but let's pray it's far far ahead in the future), are you going to wish that you went to work more? Or stayed after school more? Or are you going to wish that you saw more of the world, and its beautiful peoples? I feel as if we are rarely given the time to feel the wind in our hair and peace in our soul. Noted, many would say that such an activity (or not) is best reserved for the long summer days. But, I for one, reflect back on my high school summers as a time crammed with SAT questions, review classes, seminars, internships, volunteer activities. There's absolutely nothing wrong with any of them, in fact, I believe they contain opportunities to expand horizons. However, this frenzy is never-ending.

The best part of a summer between senior year and university is the state of nothingness. There is no expectation nor agenda. It should free-flowing and vibrant, a special slice of time where you could really find yourself and develop into the person you've always wanted to be.

But imagine if you had a whole year reserved to yourself. In the British school system, the idea of a "gap year" spread far and wide. I find it very interesting because in America, school is the only thing that's ever really important. To take a year off is so...thrilling and devilish, like it's something we're really not supposed to do. Yet that's the time, amidst all that angst, when we can expose ourselves to the world.

Of course, I don't think I'm going to participate in the gap year trend (I probably won't even take a year off in the middle of college), however, I know for certain that I am going to be studying abroad. It is my hope that amidst all the schoolwork and assignments, I'm going to save time to explore my surroundings and lose the rigid concept of time while doing it.

What I Did on Christmas Eve

Today I stayed home watching the Cooking Channel and reminisced on how I'll never be Nigella Lawson.
Then I received my first college acceptance letter.
And ate my weight in red and green M&M's.
I cooked spaghetti until it was al-dente and drizzled copious amounts of truffle oil and gobs of fire red marinara sauce. I ate it from a big, white bowl. It was delicious.
Around 3:30, my parents arrived home from Christmas shopping. Not being the type of person to ever wait, I risked all my Christmas morning joy and opened all my presents right then and there.
I was so glad my parents bought me swear word band-aids from UO and a sex bomb bath bomb from Lush; I love my parents. 
I brewed some green tea from loose tea leaves and watched them expand across the surface of the mug.
At exactly 5:00, I zipped up my jet black, 100% heat protective winter coat from Latvia and dragged out my bicycle.
I resumed biking until Christmas lights were a blur and when I could feel a nosebleed coming on. Surprisingly, the ice on the sidewalks was not too slippery. My bicycle rode past with a breeze, except the crackling scared me.
Now, as my fingers are still a little jittery, I will probably run a hot bath and let my new bath bomb turn the water into lavender and hot pink, and all other seductive colors.
Then, I will have Christmas Eve dinner with my parents. We will toast to good health, except I won't really toast because my parents don't believe in underage drinking.
I think they should be more secretive about where they store their wine stash.

Tonight, I will probably melt away on my bed and remain in a food coma until 1:00 pm tomorrow.
Then, as a Christmas tradition, I will let the neighborhood movie theater entrance me with the latest blockbuster.

HAVE A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS!
R.

What did you create this year?

Deliriously sweet. By christoph niemann.

The Most Amazing Dress I've Seen [This Year]

(via CherryBlossom)

Perception so thin, it covers the universe

Right, senior year. I cannot imagine the connotations that bring us back to senior year. It is a replay of the past three years on slow-motion, the point at which you realize that all this is such a joke. We've studied and cried and laughed and rejoiced just to get to this point, the brink of realization at which we recognize that SATs scores are such bogus and a man-made creation, that in no way, measures our intelligence nor readiness for bigger and better things. It is the point at which grades appear so superficial and completely determinate upon the rigidness of the instructor, the point where personality plays no part, nor do extra-curricular activities. Sometimes, achievement does not mean a successful future or ambition or means to advance in this world. Surely, we are exposed to more elaborate concepts of dwelling in this universe that focuses on hard statistics.

I feel like our society (notably my environment) is an amoeba, so concentrated and self-absorbed that we fail to recognize that in our ever-expanding universe, we are less than a pixel on a computer screen, a single stroke in a painting. There are a billion worlds out there with a vast array of creatures that could care less that we exist, that we invented electricity, that we have blogs. And, we state that our biggest concern is to get into that one perfect, ideal college? Have we forgotten that we steer our education? That God created transfers? That we don't need a resume filled with golden schools to be deemed as important? What happened to organic living?

I agree that education is the most important part of our lives, it is our profession, basically. But I feel that the stress of scheming and plotting is so beyond ridiculous. What we fail to realize is that there is an entirely different world beyond our own. Imagine Africa, or Asia, or Europe, or South America, or even our own country. There are so many children who only wish to complete elementary school, and we're so enthusiastic about getting into the dream school? Noted, I was one of them. Yes, I still have the statistics memorized in my head, 25-75% SAT ranges, % of kids in top 10% of class, admittance %, most important application items for every college and beyond (I practically memorized ,starting in August, the Top 50 Best National Universities and Best Liberal Arts Schools  according to US News and World Report 2010). But now I realize getting rejected from a school only creates a loophole for transferring. Kids, it's not the end of the world!!

My maternal grandmother never had a formal education. In all actuality, I'm not even sure she completed middle school. It is kind of zen to be exempt from the excessive competition of high school, it allows us to meditate on our lives. But then again, I pity her. All the new concepts that I've learned throughout the years have enlightened so greatly, and it's sad to think she was never exposed to such institutions.

My father graduated at the top of his prestigious high school, in which many of his classmates attended MIT as a graduate. Sure, A-levels possessed most of his time and sure, competition was tough among classmates, but in retrospective, he tells me that those individuals, those Einsteins, are just normal people today.

It's simply eye-opening.

I wish I was your second derivative so I could fill your concavities.

In the frenzy of applying to college, one main question still floats in the air: what am I majoring in?
For the longest time, I've set my heart onto English/history. Now...I'm not so sure.

See...I have a little secret. Ihaveanaddictiontochemistry. Is it normal that I enjoy completing free response questions and learning the kinetic molecular theory? That I secretly get giddy on the inside every time there's an exam and fit into the mad-scientist-about-to-take-over-the-world persona every time there's a lab experiment?

In addition to that, (as you could probably tell by the title)...I am a closet calculus freak. I mean, I really shouldn't like calculus (partially because my teacher reminds me of Dolores Umbridge and partially because it's in the morning time), but those derivatives and functions really tug at my heartstrings. I'd better snap out of it. 

So, as you can see, I have a cornucopia of options. But I think I've found my bliss.

Enter the local Borders and right smack dab in front of you lies rows of glossy magazines, cover-girls with dewy skin and bleached teeth Publishing companies are such animals in the jungle, competing against each other (often utilizing sharp colors) in order to catch the eye of the unassuming customer. So, the choice awaits. What do you pick? Vanity Fair? Harper's Bazaar? Fortune?

If you were me and hard data and intense photographs wet your pants, you'd reach for National Geographic.

Well, put me in suspenders and tape a "Kick Me" sign on my back if you're going to laugh, but there's so much to life than prowling around YouTube watching "The Cinnamon Challenge" or "The Annoying Orange". I simply refuse to incorporate stupidity into my diet. 

National Geographic with its unhinged photography speaks volume. Maybe this story from 2005 will show you why:

Medellin, Columbia. A city with a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde persona. The prosperous areas are laden with commerce, high-rises and an electric nightlife. But the destitute areas such as Popular and Santo Domingo Sabio are controlled by drug cartels and the narcotics trade.

This picture is so amazing yet frightening at the same time.It captures inmates at the Bellavista Prison, and primarily focuses on the middle man. With a plastic cross hanging loosely on his neck, a scar on his arm and a incorrigible expression, he's a walking contradiction.

This page gives me chills. A dead man lies sprawled out on the dirt path, a victim of gang violence. In the lower left-hand side, a group of orphaned children tuck glue bottle under their shirts just to get through the day. It makes me question my role in the world. Why wasn't I born there? How did I manage to escape such poverty? My worries seem so trivial compared to theirs, I cannot help but feel ashamed.

"After a night of selling her body, Marta Correa awakens with one of her three daughters in a slum bereft of jobs. 'My dream is to own my own business, anything that will allow us to eat,' says Marta..."

What causes people to have an insatiable appetite to kill? As a student ambassador of the United States Holocaust Museum, this question runs through my mind every single day. But these people are not monsters. If they were monsters, we would not be aghast at their sinister deeds. These people are people; they eat and laugh and cry and grow stronger bones everyday.The scary part is that these people are just like us and we can morph into them.

Of course, not all of its articles have such gravity.

The concept of humans, the very idea of living fascinates me. It certainly allows me to considered Anthropology as a degree option for undergraduate school.

In December, I will be a baubled bangled Christmas tree with soup bowls draped all over me.

When I was 10 years old, I wanted to go to Yale Law.

What ever happened to my aspirations?

When I was 10, I also had an extensive wad of pencils.

Now that I am seventeen + 1/2...

I'm not quite sure what I have.

Well, I applied to my top choice last month. 

& I got deferred. 

Deferred. Deferred. Deferred.

for anyone who wants to know. 

I am back from my break. And now, it still hurts to think of the word. 

So, I didn't get rejected. But somehow, it feels so much worse. 

I mean, I spent the last year+ of my life praying. It just feels kind of...

weird.

Before I found out, I wasn't sure how I would feel if others were accepted and I wasn't. I seriously considered deleting my Facebook just so I wouldn't have to view those status updates.

But somehow, afterward, it was almost kind of zen. I don't know how to phrase it without sounding contemptuous, but, I am truly happy for those who got accepted.

I would imagine how I would feel getting accepted, the whole world's weight off my shoulders, joyous tears flowing, smiles-a-million, and relate to how you guys would feel.

I was taken by surprised in the form of an e-mail. And you can imagine what ensued next...

But there's so many beautiful things in life. So why can't I get over it?

I mean, I have the beautiful opportunity to go to college. I plan to go to graduate school. I plan to create a non-for-profit organization. I have the whole world at my feet. 

The sad part is, my parents have erased the word "deferred" from their vocabulary. They don't look to me with bleak expressions, they moved on with the times. It's kind of in their job description as parents to love me. But still, they're extremely soothing and comforting. In some way, I feel as if I've let them down. My mother tells me now that it's okay to be average.

But with all my stubbornness, I don't think it is.

I may be a little down now. But, I know I will jump this hurdle.
La vie est belle.

*Thanks to all who have given me little slips of confidence or big warm hugs. You're all so amazing and beautiful. You all inspire me to be a better person.