a dry erase marker and a mirror

In college, during my senior year, my roommates and I moved into an apartment. We spoiled ourselves silly, those two semesters. Maybe we didn't buy food as often as is deemed healthy and appropriate, and maybe we didn't participate in expensive campus goings-on at the time, and maybe we stayed within a 10-mile radius of campus so as not to waste gas, but boy, did we have it made in that apartment.

We each had our own bedrooms, with these big-sliding-mirrored-closet-doors that were just fantastic. Now that I'm living at home again and I have to run into my sister's now-vacant bedroom every time I want to look into a full-length mirror, I'm pining for those mirrored doors.

Early that year, Stephanie had taken to doodling and writing little notes to us with markers on our mirrors to read when we'd wake up in the morning. She always made me smile with her notes. She'd written on her own closet mirror, too, decorating it and writing little notes to herself, even.

This girl is wise beyond her years.

One day I walked into her room to find a little reminder to herself scrawled on her mirror-door, right next to her bed.

You are a strong, beautiful, intelligent woman who deserves to be loved, it read.

At first I giggled. Of course you are. We all are.

But then I thought about it. Do we all know that? Really know that? Maybe that's why I was giggling--because I didn't truly believe it.

Stephanie's little love note to herself stuck with me. Every time I entered her room, I read it. Sometimes it would just pop into my head without me realizing it. I had it memorized. It became like a pattern in my brain.

At home now, I have it written on my mirror above my dresser. It says I am a strong, beautiful, intelligent woman who deserves to be loved.

I am a strong, beautiful, intelligent woman who deserves to be loved.

I am a strong, beautiful, intelligent woman who deserves to be loved.

I am a strong, beautiful, intelligent woman who deserves to be loved.

It's on my desktop notepad on my computer screen too, and scribbled here and there throughout my planner. It comes as second nature now.

A few weeks ago, my aunt and little cousin were over for dinner. Later that night, I walked into my room to find eight-year-old Katie standing in front of my dresser, staring at the mirror. "I am a strong, beautiful, intelligent woman who deserves to be loved? What's that?"

But she wasn't giggling. She was intrigued. Her expression was completely serious. She really wanted to know why it was there and what it meant.

I explained the purpose of affirmations to her and why I liked that particular sentence. I could see her thinking about it, deciding if she thought I was crazy or funny or maybe even smart. She began to read it slowly.

"I am a strong, beautiful, intelligent woman who deserves to be loved. I am a strong, beautiful, intelligent woman who deserves to be loved. I am a strong, beautiful, intelligent woman who deserves to be loved! I AM A STRONG, BEAUTIFUL, INTELLIGENT WOMAN WHO DESERVES TO BE LOVED!" Her face could hardly contain her wonderment.

Then she ran to tell her mom her revelation. And my heart almost melted.

So, thanks Steph. I'm glad we had that overly-expensive apartment, and those unnecessarily-huge mirrored closet doors, and your wit about yourself to even think of doing something so extraordinary. A dry erase marker, and a mirror. That's all it took.

movin on

Today is the 366th day of my post-college life. I graduated exactly one year ago.

I've just taken the "365" out of my header of "Fearlessly navigating my way through these 365 post-college days."

I suppose that's really over, then.

thoughts on college, one year later: part 2

I just re-read Part 1. I apologize if you made it all the way through to the end of that rambling. Sometimes, though--words just scramble to get out of my head and onto "paper" before I can stop them. That post was somewhat therapeutic for me, I think. I hadn't really let myself face all those feelings since I graduated. And thankfully, some of you could commiserate and let me know I wasn't alone in those feelings.

What would I do without you guys?

Anyways, I did go back to school that night last week. The Women's Center was having their annual "Take Back the Night" rally, which I went to last year, and one of my favorite friends/professors was speaking, and I'd take any excuse to go back and see Steph again, so I sucked up some courage, threw up a word-vomit post for some peace of mind, and went back, all in a hurry, it seemed like.

And you know what? It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be.

It was of course very strange, and felt weird to be walking the streets and eating at the student union knowing I wasn't actually a student anymore, but I was okay.

I was okay.

Of course I was okay. It was just as if the campus materialized around me and surrounded me with its academic-ness and big buildings and swarms of students as I drove onto campus. But I was still the same person. I felt like I had a bubble around me, keeping all of me in and keeping any bad vibes or memories out. It was like a revelation.

Am I making any sense? This is hard to articulate.

I'm the same person, but I've grown more in the past five years than I'd realized.

I was able to go back onto that campus sure of myself and who I am without letting a silly university dictate that to me. I was okay.

Perhaps going to this school wasn't the best decision for me. I've come to terms with that, kind of. So now I suppose all I can do is be grateful I have my education and learn from my mistakes.

Which is why, now that I'm entering into the grad school realm, I don't want to make the same mistakes. I don't want to choose my school based on ease and money. I'm taking everything into consideration, and weighing my options carefully. I want to do it right this time. Perhaps that's what I've learned.

In just two weeks, it will have been 365 days since my college graduation. Since my blog header says, "Fearlessly navigating my way through these post-college 365 days," I suppose I'll have to change that. I think I have fearlessly navigated my way through this past year. I successfully moved back home after college (no mean feat), got a position in AmeriCorps, applied to grad schools at the right time, got accepted, and am now working out the next chapter of my life.

Now I just have to put that diploma that's sitting at the back of my bookshelf in a frame or something. Isn't that what it's for?

thoughts on college, one year later: part 1

Caution: Stream of consciousness, and therefore run-on sentences, abound below. Just saying.

I have to go back to college tonight.

YEAH. BACK TO COLLEGE TONIGHT. My good old alma mater. (What? I’m old enough to call something my alma mater?)

I think I might vomit. No, literally, I think I might. I haven’t set foot on that campus since the day I stepped into my mom’s minivan in my graduation gown with flowers and diploma in tow almost ONE YEAR AGO.

I mean, that was on May 10th, 2009. That over-used and over-heard intimidating number, two thousand and nine, is such a thing of my past. Before, that date was the culmination of my life as I knew it. Now, it seems years ago. Like that year never even happened, like life just skipped from 2008 to 2010, poof, like that.

Tonight, I’ll have to go back. Past the cow fields and agricultural buildings, past the big white church whose daycare program I applied to once, past the lake-whose-name-I-can-never-remember (was it Mirror or Swan?), past the chemistry building and the church and the Student Center that I spent so much time at (planning for our trip to Haiti and holding bake sales and teaching religious education that one semester so long ago), past the crosswalk where a girl was hit and killed one night sophomore year, past the cemetery where I’d smoke pot in the dead of the night freshman year and where a boy and I took that long walk one afternoon, past my old building and that dining hall and laundry room, past the math building I only ever had one class in and past the residence hall where so many freshman pined to live, past the Visitor’s Center where I was once a Student Ambassador before I realized how much I actually didn't like the place and decided I shouldn't be an ambassador for it, past the parking lot where I hung out with a high school friend in his car that very first night of that very first semester and where Spring Weekend began and where I met one of my boyfriends even, past the theater and past the Field House where we gathered for commencement and felt like it was a different realm of the world, past the Student Union and the library and my Arabic classroom building and the art museum and everything else down that way, and finally I’ll turn right at the bookstore and find a spot in the garage and go in to finally buy a sticker that I bought when I was there but lost to put on my car to represent a school that I actually disliked quite a bit but that I want on my car either way, and then leave and probably drive around for at least 20 minutes searching for a spot and wishing for the days when I didn’t mind looking for a spot because I was a student and felt that I was entitled to one anyways.

Now, I’ll just be driving around as a non-student, one of those people who clog up traffic and aren’t sensitive towards pedestrians because they’re not one at all and who feel like they own the place because it’s Connecticut’s claim to fame and it IS a state university, after all.

Why is this so hard for me?

Is it because I don’t feel any kind of personal connection to the place anymore? Is it because I never really felt like I was a real part of that place?

Maybe that’s it. Maybe it’s because I never really felt like I belonged there.

Ask me when I was seventeen, reluctantly applying to colleges only because it was the right thing to do and my mom was on my back about it, ask me what I wanted to do with my life. I, of course, did not know, but I did know one thing: I did not want to go to a large, public university. Six of my seven schools I was applying to were small, Catholic colleges usually located somewhere suburban or rural. This was my safe school. It was my backup, in case I was denied everywhere else.

The thing is, I wasn’t denied everywhere else. I got in. I was waitlisted at my top choice, yes, but other ones, I was accepted to. I had options.

When it all boiled down, though, it came to one thing: money. Money guided my choice. This school happened to be the cheapest option, being a public state school, and also happened to offer me a large amount of financial aid. Which ended up not meaning much, since every year after that it got less and less and now, five years later, I’m still in way more debt than I ever imagined. But I digress. I chose it because of money. My seventeen year old self did not want a large school, or a public school. I even remember Jana asking me one day at one of her family parties, as we got old enough to start thinking about where we’d apply, asking me if I’d ever consider going to a non-Catholic school. I said no. Never. Anything else just wasn’t in my list of choices. Funny how that worked out, though. I chose something (was it really much of a choice?) I wanted nothing to do with. (Now, I did also choose it because it had the major I thought I wanted, but in retrospect, most other schools offered similar programs, and it never really mattered anyways, because I ended up changing my major to something completely different not long after.)

But yeah right am I ever doing that again. Here I was, this young-for-her-age, ridiculously naive, sheltered, formerly-homeschooled freshman girl who knew very little about herself. My self esteem was little to none. And that’s a generous estimation. I jumped on the chance to be best friends with my roommate, simply because she was my roommate, even though in actuality I disliked her quite a bit. I jumped on the chance to be best friends with my neighbors, too, even though I liked them even less. The ones who may have offered any semblance of a real friendship at the time I judged too quickly and immediately dismissed, getting sucked into the opinions of my friends I had already made. Whom I disliked, remember. But they were friends, and I had them, and even if they weren’t great, they filled a newfound void in my life at the time and I gave them my all.

Fast forward two years and those same friends dropped me by the wayside and didn't look back. All along I was realizing they weren’t much of friends, but by then I had already invested so much in them and every other freshman who we started with that summer of 2005 had already made other friends and were seemingly locked in with them, too, and I figured no one would want to add some girl to their repertoire just because she was too desperate that first semester and made the wrong choices. So I stuck with them. To my detriment, come junior year, as I’d later learn.

Boys were all wrong, too. I don’t think there are many freshman boys, if any, who don’t come to college obsessed with their newfound freedom, both sexual and otherwise, looking to see how many girls they can seduce in order to bring back a more impressive number to their friends back home, who are also toying with their new lifestyles. I think I found just about every one of those boys available to me, during college. This is not to say that I slept with every boy I met--no, not even close to that, by any means, but worse: I put my trust in these seemingly nice boys who would entice me to watch movies in their smelly dorm rooms and take shots with me because all the other girls were, too, didn't I see? and then nonchalantly ask for my statistic notes at the end of the night because they were too hung over to get to class that morning and of course I’d do it, because I was really nice and not like all the other girls, wasn't I? But these were the same boys who wouldn’t dream of inviting me to the dining hall on sober week nights or sitting next to me the few times they actually showed up for class or even bothering to ask what was my major, anyways?

I like to think I learned my lesson now, though. Of course I have. In fact, I know I have. And in more ways than just knowing which types of boys to run wildly away from, too.

...to be continued...

a little bit familiar

I used to love Georgia Douglas Johnson's poems and short stories. I haven't the slightest idea why I haven't read her in so long. Her anthology sits at the end of my bed, depressingly dusty.

But coming across this poem, Calling Dreams, served as a tiny reminder (and perhaps a big, huge, God-sent sign?) that I should, indeed, continue to read her work.

The right to make my dreams come true
I ask, nay, I demand of life,
Nor shall fate's deadly contraband
Impede my steps, nor countermand.

Too long my heart against the ground
Has beat the dusty years around,
And now, at length, I rise, I wake!
And stride into the morning break!

Sounds a little bit familiar, to me. This IS a favorite poem of mine, so maybe it was a subconscious effort, but I'd like to think Georgia and I are just on the same wavelength (posthumously, of course).

Dare I say I wish to be back in college, where I'm forced to read such literature? Sigh.

how i love this girl.

We met one fateful day at a study abroad info session. We took the MBTI and were the only two INFJs. Little did we know, we also had a lot more in common. SO much more in common. It's like we're long lost sisters (only, we look nothing alike). We are so similar, it's uncanny.

We roomed together once we got to South Africa, and roomed together once we got back home, too, in our own little on-campus apartment. Nothing could stop us.

Except for the fact that I graduated in May, and she didn't. We were roommates no longer. It's quite sad, really. I feel lost without Stephanie. She's finishing up her four years at UConn, and I'm . . . not. We suffer.



That's why drink dates are so necessary. I love our time together, chatting about the perils of living back home (she moved home for her last year) and reminiscing about our escapades studying abroad. We don't see each other nearly enough.

Scorpion bowls, here we come.




(Doesn't sushi always cure what ails you? It does for us.)

missing south africa.

Do you remember?

When we would trek down Main Road in Mowbray, through Claremont and into Rondebosch? We'd try our best to stay out of way of the swerving minibus taxis almost barrelling onto the sidewalks and avoided any eye contact with hawkers trying to get us to take their taxis before they moved on again.

Do you remember?

When we would wake up late on Thursday mornings because we were so tired from trance-dancing at Roots the night before (well, it was Wednesday, ater all) and run to the Jammie shuttle and hope to get to University of Cape Town in time for class? Sometimes stopping for those vegetable samosas and guava juices were really just making us even later, but wasn't it worth the embarrassment of walking into class smiling?

Do you remember?

Filling up just one backpack with all three of our computers so we wouldn't look too vulnerable for a mugging, and traipse down the street and across the highway into Observatory to Cocoa Cha Chi to get our fix of paper-writing and cappuccinos (and sometimes big cookies)? Cocoa Wah Wah was a good second resort, too--even though it didn't compare. We could spot those orange awnings and fences anywhere.

Do you remember?

If you don't, maybe this will remind you.



Remember? We could never take a picture of it ourselves--whipping out our cameras on the street would have been asking for it. Thank God for Google.

Somehow, I miss being in college.

Felicitous Findings: Part 16

Despite the fact that I'm considering myself in a huge slump right now and it's somewhat difficult to think of things that invoke felicity, I'm nevertheless forcing out an installation of Felicitous Findings. Fake it till you make it, right?

1. Swiss cheese. Lots and lots of Swiss cheese. The bigger the chunk/slice/bite, the better.

2. Wearing socks and sweaters in the morning.

3. Shopping for a new planner (I have been pining for a Filofax!)

4. Being able to delete all UConn emails without even glancing at the subject (why oh why am I still getting these??)

5. Getting excited at the prospect of grad school while starting some research :)

Autumnal Confession

I’m spilling it:
I really enjoy autumn.
I’m not sad that summer is over (or, most-of-the-way over).
I much rather prefer 50 degrees and cozy sweaters than 90 degrees and tank tops.

I know--weird, right?

When I was little I used to think there was something wrong with me, because I was always the only one to be happy when fall started and the dog days of summer had ended.

But what’s there not to love? Pumpkins, apple picking, cozy sweaters, Halloween, cider, crunchy leaves, scarecrows, my birthday--I love all of it. (Okay, so my birthday probably has a lot of sway in choosing fall as my favorite season, but whatever. I love anyone’s birthday.)

It was fitting that the day after I got home from my summer vacation, the air had changed and cooler weather had rushed in. I didn’t mind at all (if it had rushed in to my beach time and ruined my balmy island breeze, well, that would have been a different story). On the TV, on the radio, on blogs everywhere, the news of fall’s arrival flew around. I reveled in it. While everyone else moaned and groaned about summer being too short and rainy (in the Northeast, that is), inside I secretly soaked up the crisp chilly air and marveled at all the leaves on the ground. Starbucks has Pumpkin Spice Lattes again and before you know it’ll be Christmas. CHRISTMAS.

Then I’ll get REALLY excited.

(Don’t tell, but I also secretly love the fact that while commercials advertise back-to-school deals and kids are forced to buy new lunchboxes and backpacks and get hit with mounds of homework once again, I’m beside myself with joy that I’m not one of them. I’m not moving into a crappy dorm room and I’m not wasting hundreds of dollars on textbooks. I may be living at home again and working nine to five, but at least I don’t already have a paper due tomorrow and two hundred pages to be read by Friday. Just saying.)



(Photo via NixieMichelle)

Time goes by

Three months ago today, I was graduating from UConn.

Whoa.

Three months.

An Epiphany of Sorts

Remember this post? I used to go to Starbucks almost every Tuesday and Thursday morning, before my 12:30pm Sociological Theory class, and try to catch up on homework and organize my life. Some days I wouldn't bring my computer, because I am ADDICTED and it's such a distraction for me, but usually I would just sit there from eight to eleven cyber-surfing, and then look up and snap out of my internet-infused daze and realize I had just wasted three hours of precious homework time. Just like that.

Today though, it's a new day. It's Thursday morning, and I don't have to drive back to my apartment to get ready for class (even though I do have to get ready for work soon.....). I don't have to study for exams, or write any papers, or read countless textbook chapters. I literally have been sitting here for the past two hours working on my blog, when I realized there's this distinct feeling of guilt creeping up through my insides, like a tiny nagging voice saying, "Ruth....get to work....you're wasting time....hurry up...."

And then I realized, my mind has not caught up to my body. I've been graduated for over a week, and I still feel like I need to be doing work. I've had dreams every night since I've been home that I'm late for an exam and fail it, or that I forget to say goodbye to someone before they move out, or that I realize I actually didn't graduate and I'm supposed to be at school right now but I've forgotten. It's madness, people. Who knew that I'd need to consciously persuade myself to realize that I'm done with UConn?

Last night I met with Abby and Andrew for dinner at Margarita's. That was refreshing, to be with close friends who understand and are in the same position that I am. It's good to know that I'm not the only one who's freaking out about this.

In the meantime, what are your thoughts about tattoos? I'd love to know. I've been thinking about them a lot, but I think I've come to the sad conclusion that I'm too indecisive to get one. I change my mind every two minutes (I clearly can't even follow a methodical train of thought for this post--Starbucks, graduation, margaritas, tattoos?!). I have a hard time choosing what to eat for lunch or what shirt to wear to bed. I know that if I got a tattoo, I'd love it for about a week and then change my mind the next. However, this tattoo is absolutely adorable, and may just change my mind....



What do you think?

The Longest, Most Drawn Out Catch-Up Post You Will (Hopefully) Ever See

If anybody is actually reading this so-called blog of mine, I profoundly apologize for my cyber-absence.

Let me explain.

The adjustment from the end of four years of college life, to graduation, the loss of friends, and a move back home, has been extremely difficult for me--as I'm sure it is for everybody who goes through that change. Just the whole end of the semester and finals and graduations and break-ups and goodbyes and moving--all of it has been much more tumultuous than I thought it'd be. I've been saying since February, "Ready to graduate? Are you kidding? I can't wait, it'll be so great to get out of here. I won't be sad one bit, I've been waiting for this since the day I got here!" And I truly believed all that. Now I can't believe that I was ever saying that. Not that UConn was my most favorite place in the world, but once you get used to something for four long years, it's hard to know anything else.

And believe me, living at home in Somers with my family again is a far cry from academic buildings and the Eastbrook Mall and bars within walking distance and Starbucks around the corner and the Co-op.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's go back, shall we?

By the Friday of the last week of exams, I was so ready to be done. I practically skipped through the sunshine to my very last final, hardly having studied and not even caring. I stopped in to say goodbye to Gina Barreca, a fabulous woman and mentor to me in this last year of mine at UConn. She gave me a gift and I tried not to comprehend that this was the end and I left her office in a rush, getting to my final 45 minutes early. In the exam room, the kid sitting in front of me was wearing a UConn Senior t-shirt that said "ALMOST DONE!" in big letters on the back, staring me cruelly in the face. I tried not to pay too much attention.

My stomach was already hurting.

The next day was rough. I was hungover. I threw up. I broke up with Joe. My mom came and took stuff home for me and my apartment was bare and empty, like when we moved in. I ordered a calzone since I had no food and the Chinese place wasn't answering their phone and I sat at the table by myself and ate it. I just wanted to get it all over with so I could miserably face reality once and for all.

I thought graduation was supposed to be a happy time.

The next day, I woke up at 5:23am and couldn't fall back asleep. I decided to use my time wisely and straightened my hair and listened to the birds that I usually wake up too late to hear and ironed my dress and finished clearing everything out of my room and watched the weather loop about seven times on the morning news. It was 6:45am. I sat on the couch, dressed and made-up and ready to go, until my CA came to check me out of my apartment once for all at 9am. I could have run fourteen miles with all of my built-up energy.

So, I graduated, with Mom and Dad and Mary and James and Jana and Michael and Auntie Mary and Katie, sans Joe. I honestly don't even want to elaborate, so here are some pictures:














(If you're still reading this, kudos to you. I don't know if I could sit through this kind of misery. But it will get better, I promise. I think.)

So that was that. It doesn't sound like much, but that's literally how it went. I felt sick all day and it was all surreal and then I couldn't believe it was over and I was driving back home to Somers. And now I'm here.





My first order of business was painting my room. I don't have any "after" pictures yet, but here's how it started:

























I've also spent time flea marketing in Brimfield:

















I bought this adorable handmade dress:













I've also once again assumed the role of Good Big Sister, so some mornings have involved waiting outside in the chilly morning sun at the bottom of the driveway with Mary for the bus to come. I love this set of photos from this morning:













Phew. That's a lot of catching up, and that's not even all there is. Stay tuned. I've got plenty more stories and goodies and even some big news.

Happy Tuesday!

(HINT TO BIG NEWS:

)

Gray Day & Bennie and the Jets

On this bleary and sprinkly Tuesday morning, I find myself sitting in Starbucks avoiding studying yet again. What is it about being in your last semester that causes such procrastination? I guess I just want to get out of here.

At the same time though, I'm starting to get really sad about leaving, which I didn't think I'd do. Steph moved out yesterday. Well, not really moved out--
she's coming back Wednesday

afternoon till Thursday morning to take exams--but still. All her stuff is gone, her room is practically empty, and she's not there anymore. There's such a void in our apartment now! And Kelly is leaving tonight to go home until Thursday, when she also comes back to take one exam. Bummer. I'm here till Sunday.

The bulletin board and chalkboard are taken down. The TV and TV stand are gone. The kitchen cookware available to me consists of one charred frying pan. The fridge is half-empty (no, not half-full, half-empty). It's a good thing most of the wall and window decoration in our apartment came from me, or else that'd be gone, too. And then I'd just have to cry.

It's not so much that I really love this place, but. . . it's the end of an era! What now? You all better be praying that I get into SOME program for the fall, or else we'll have a very distraught blogger on our hands. . .

That's all I can squeeze out for now. Once finals are out of the way, I'll be sure to post more frequently (and substantially). I'll leave you with one laughable video that might brighten your day, if it's anything like mine. . .

Earth Day, Rallies, and Newspaper Clippings

Hello,

It's been a whirlwind couple of days around here. Let me slowly bring you up to speed and try to absorb it all myself:

Yesterday was EARTH DAY. I had no idea until I saw it scrawled on our dry erase board at daycare: "Happy Earth Day! Don't forget to bring home your baby's artwork that he/she may or may not have been forced to create by their teachers who may or may not have done the majority of the work but that we're claiming your babies made!" (Okay, so maybe this isn't really what it said, but c'mon--can a 15-month-old really tie-dye a coffee filter with blue and green paint and then paste it onto a piece of paper? I think not.)


(Via truthdig.)


Anyways, in light of the holiday of our earth, and inspired by FilterForGood, I've decided to seriously think of ways I can become a little more responsible in my lifestyle and maybe even save a couple of trees. What are YOU going to do? I'm dedicated to:

1.) Making sure I really recycle all I can. My roommates and I already do this, but everyone once in awhile I just really don't want to walk all the way to the kitchen to the recycling and instead just end up tossing my old Daily Campus into the trash--no more!

2.) Unplugging my cell phone charger! My mother pleasantly reminds me when I'm home that leaving it plugged in, while not necessarily plugged into my phone, is still using electricity and racking up my parents' electric bill. So when I'm at school (and when she's not around to nag me about it), I often leave it perpetually plugged in, just draining electricity out its empty end--no more!

3.) Bringing my reusable grocery bags with me every time I go grocery shopping. I cannot tell you how many times I just leave them in my room, where they are completely useless, instead of bringing them back down to my car to have them available for the next time I happen to stop at the store. How many plastic bags do I really need?? NO MORE!

So that's that. We'll see how it goes. I guess really, I just need to quit being so darn lazy. My laziness is contributing to the demise of our earth!

Okay, what's next? Oh yeah, how about the fact that I got published in the Hartford Courant yesterday! Hooray! There's nothing more satisfying after months of hard work and weeks of waiting and countless emails between Peter Pach than seeing it finally printed! I woke up late yesterday morning, after 11 hours of sleep in the attempts of fighting off what I thought was strep, and drove to the convenience store down the street before class to purchase all three copies the nice man had in stock. He looked down at my stack of papers I was ready to pay for and said, "Need to read the news three times over, eh?" I didn't even respond. Nothing could get in the way of my good mood yesterday morning. Not even the fact that stopping to buy the papers after sleeping late made me ten minutes late to class. Nope.

(However, the comments left beneath my online article were a bit daunting. Please don't read them. And if you do, make sure to post something supportive of my article! Apparently the drunken kids I speak of in the article were quite offended and felt the need to tell me so.)

((All the great emails and calls and texts though were amazing. I even got an email from a high school teacher I haven't heard from in years! And even President Hogan of UConn said he "wished there were 15,000 other students like me." Um, yeah, definitely makes it all worth it.))

Later in the day, Steph and I met up with her friend Joelle at Take Back the Night, a rally to raise awareness about sexual abuse. It was astounding. It began with speakers and singers and then we held a candlelit procession across campus, chanting things like, "We are women, we are men, together we fight to take back the night!" (Granted, running around in the cold and rain while shouting at the top of my lungs was probably not the best choice for attempting to recover from a terrible cold-flu-strep-like thing.) It was really great, though. I had always heard of it every year but never went, and I'm so glad I did this year. As we marched through the quad of the all-freshmen dorms, many people came down from their rooms and cheered us on. Some ignorant fools shouted out their windows for us to shut up, though. Just like my article, I guess you can't always win. There will always be people against you.

While we were preparing the rally outside the student union, a UConn cop who was going to be driving with us to control traffic said to one of the organizers, "So, how many of you ladies do you expect tonight?" He smirked. He did not take this seriously. This was nothing important to him, he who has probably never considered the peril of being in danger of being raped. The girl who was organizing it looked him dead in the eyes and said, "Ladies? Ladies and men." Foolish UConn cops. I wanted to spit on his shoes.


(Via The Women's Center)

After the procession, we all gathered back in the Student Union for the Speak Out portion of the night, where survivors of sexual abuse were able to come up and tell their story. They said that if after five minutes after a speaker ended no one else had come up, they would end it. I honestly figured that this would happen, that there wouldn't really be that many people there who were sexual abuse victims and that even if there was, not many would actually come up. Boy, was I wrong.

They say 1 in 6 women have been raped. Now I know how truthful that statistic is. Woman after woman, and even a few men, came up to tell their stories. Some smiled to ease their discomfort and nervousness, many sobbed as they told their horror stories of being controlled and raped and put down even by their own boyfriends and husbands, some spoke so quietly we couldn't even hear them. But so many people had stories, and they were all so similar. I was horrified to see so many girls I knew. It made me sick to my stomach, and I didn't even realize that an hour and a half had passed before they had to end the session, without even waiting for a lull in the speakers. One girl who spoke is in a bunch of my classes, and also happens to be a good friend of my roommate's. She's always in our apartment. She came over just the other day to do laundry. She laughs, she's loud, she speaks up in class all the time. And she had a story.

The night that she came over to do laundry, there were six of us in our apartment. At least one then had been raped. The statistic was true, and we didn't even know it. That was so disheartening to realize. It was a really great night, but awfully depressing. And sickening. Steph and I couldn't sleep by the time we got home at 11pm, so we sat up sharing a Tupperware container of cold pasta and trying to process all we had just heard.

I'm really glad I have friends I can talk about things like this with. Steph is always good for that. I'm going to miss her when I graduate and we're not living together anymore.

All in all, yesterday was a difficult, yet encouraging, day.

Family Dinner and Big NEWS

Last night we had what could possibly be our last family dinner at UConn....ever!

Steph, Kelly, Abby and I got together and cooked dinner (a fabulous menu, might I add) and sat around catching up and discussing our last few weeks at UConn.

It was great, as usual--veggie burgers, wine, more veggies, and more wine. A good time was had by all, I believe.

If you've never had these veggie burgers, you're missing out. Now, I don't proclaim myself a fanatic vegetarian, but I do enjoy a mostly-veg menu when I'm at school. These burgers are fantastic, whether you're a vegetarian or not.

Inspired by the amazing burgers at Obz Cafe in Cape Town, I recreated them this summer. Deeeeelicious, I must say. I'm posting the recipe so you can make them yourself! (And this is all off the top of my head, and I'm no professional cook, so adjust this as necessary)


Obz Cafe's Amazing Veggie Burgers

1 onion, chopped
2 sweet potatoes, peeled and cubed
1 potato, peeled and cubed
3 carrots, peeled and chopped
2 parsnips, peeled and chopped
(and add any other veggies you might like)
Olive oil
Salt & pepper
Pesto
Hummus
Rolls

Combine all chopped vegetables in a roasting pan and coat with olive oil. Season with salt and pepper as desired. Roast in 400 degree oven for about 25 minutes, or until vegetables are soft. Remove from pan and mix with pesto (enough to coat all vegetables).
Spread hummus on rolls and top with veggie mixture.
Enjoy!
(Makes about 6 burgers.)


Really, make these. The combination of pesto and hummus is absolutely delicious. And no meat!

On another note, I have NEWS. In tomorrow's (Wednesday's) edition of the Hartford Courant, the Fresh Talk section will feature none other than yours truly--that's right, I'm finally being published! Look for me there!

It's an opinion piece about Spring Weekend--I'm sure some will be offended, but I guess that's why it's in the opinion section, right? My professor Regina Barreca has been working with me this semester in a creative writing independent study and has an "in" with the Courant (but who doesn't she have an "in" with?). So in a nutshell, I owe it all to her. She's fabulous--check out her blogs! Maybe someday mine will be as intelligent and creative as hers....

That's all for now, I'll see you all at 5am tomorrow morning, scrambling to get my hands on every copy of the Hartford Courant available at the UConn Co-op.

In the words of my mother, "Woohoo!"

Reading? For Fun?!

In five weeks, I'll be a college graduate.

IcantwaitImsoexcited!!!

I'm slowly forgetting about any regrets I might have about these past four years, or any sadness I might be feeling about leaving college behind, or any fears I'm having about becoming a real grown-up. Now, I really just can't wait. The past four years have flown by, but these last two months have been draaaaagging.

I also came to the realization that once May 9th is here, I will never have to do homework again. It won't be like every other summer vacation where the happiness of having no more homework to do will be tainted with the thought of having it piled on all over again come August. IT WON'T COME BACK!

So then I started thinking, What am I going to do with all my time? Work, yes. But what else? What was that other thing that I used to enjoy? That I actually used to like to do in my spare time? That thing I've now been forced to do in every waking moment whether I wanted to or not?

Oh yeah. READ.

Actual books. Actual things I enjoy reading about, not Idylls of the King and Manfred and Mary Barton. What a novel idea. I think I've forgotten what it's like to read for fun.

So now that I have the prospect of a whole summer where I can read whatever I want, I'm not going to waste any time. Queen of all things list-making, I've already come up with a whole list of things I want to read. Here's my list of Things I Want To Read This Summer:

1. The Bible
2. Long Walk to Freedom (still have not finished this!)
3. Gone with the Wind
4. Wuthering Heights
5. Women Who Think Too Much
5. Absalom, Absalom
6. Lady Chatterley's Lover
7. The Yellow Wallpaper
8. The Wasteland
9. Twilight (just to see what all the fuss is about)

So that's what I have so far. And I am determined to read them!

Suggestions for further reading are recommended and encouraged, please.

I am a graduating senior and I don't know when Spring Weekend is

I am a graduating senior and I don’t know when Spring Weekend is.

That’s right, I have no idea.

To put it plainly, I’m not that interested in drinking myself into a stupor for five days straight (that’s right—the “weekend” now includes Wednesday night). I don’t really care to walk the Rape Trail alongside thousands of people who may or may not be 40-year-old men who don’t even go to UConn and are only looking for their next sloppily-drunk female victim. And I don’t like beer pong on a broken-down closet door, either.

So, to be clear, I am a UConn student who does not enjoy Spring Weekend. WE DO EXIST!

In fact, I like to try to avoid it at all costs. This is not to say I don’t enjoy my liquor—believe me, make me a frozen strawberry margarita with a sugar rim and I’m all over it. But give me 20,000 people who have consumed the equivalent of eighteen said margaritas and well, no thank you.

Freshman year, sophomore year—I was all about Spring Weekend. My equally naïve and eager-to-be-accepted freshmen friends and I were the aforementioned fools stumbling across campus in the hopes of finding a generous junior or senior who would welcome us into their magnificently-impressive Celeron apartment parties. I can safely say I’ve learned a thing or two since then.

If only I had believed my mother, I would have known this time would come (yes, Mom, I did just say that—you can pick your jaw up off the floor now). Upon getting accepted into UConn four years ago, one of the first things out of her mouth was, “Okay, Ruthie, but you know this means you’re coming home whenever Spring Weekend is, right?” I laughed in her face. I was going to the biggest party school in Connecticut. Miss the biggest party weekend of the year? I didn’t think so.

No, I stayed for Spring Weekend freshman year, and sophomore year, too. In fact, last year was the first year that I missed it (I was more than happy to be studying abroad in South Africa sipping wine at an outdoor concert at the foot of Table Mountain than wandering through X-Lot looking for my friends I had lost in my drunken state).

After missing it last year, what’s so bad about skipping it this year? Will I really be missing out on that much? The Spring Weekend concert this year is 50 Cent—I don’t even like 50 Cent (another shocker, I know).

The poor residents of Storrs-Mansfield. They have to suffer through it every year—the students taking over their streets and sidewalks (sometimes even their lawns), the noise, the confusion, the beer cans, the fires. Who knows if there would even be a vacant ambulance available to them if they had a real emergency—after all, X-Lot is full of them the Saturday night of Spring Weekend. That’s how out of hand it gets.

I think that weekend (whenever it is) I’ll take a mysterious trip across country. Anywhere but Storrs. How far do you think is far enough? My mom will be so proud. I will be purposely avoiding the weekend she always wanted me to avoid. Maybe I’ll even read a novel on the plane.

A novel, you say?! Yes, I like to read, too. I’m actually an English major. I liked reading so much I decided to do it for four years straight. We’re few and far between, but if you look closely enough, we’re there amidst the North Face jackets and Ugg boots and Coach purses.

So don’t lose hope, Connecticut. Come the end of the semester there will be a select few students at our state university who won’t be tipping cars in parking lots and publically urinating on cop cars. There will be those who choose not to consume so much alcohol that they need to be driven to Windham hospital for stomach pumping. There will be those walking in the commencement ceremony with their dignities intact, knowing they weren’t the students who stripped naked on the Rape Trail running past lines of cops shouting profanities and throwing beer cans.

Will there be these students? Of course. Will all of UConn participate? Of course not.

Don’t be deceived.

Why, God, Why??!?!

This place is sucking the life out of me.

Now, we all know I've never been the orientation-leading, tour-guiding, gushy-about-how-great-this-place-is kind of UConner, but there are few select qualities that endear me to this school (okay, number one, that they gave me some money to come here back in the days of 2005, which they subsequently reeled away from me, faster and faster, as the years continued, leaving me penniless and loan-inundated as a senior in 2009).

But lately, it's like this place is The Vortex of All Things Undesirable. Freezing temperatures? Storrs has got 'em. Wind chill making them feel ten degrees lower? Come to Storrs! Vertical hills that make you swear you'll never walk to class again? That's Storrs for ya. Lack of parking that forces you to walk to class every day, thereby revoking your previous oath dejectedly? Welcome to Storrs, Connecticut.

Please, can you really tell me this is not enticing you to hop in your car and drive to this fabulous University of Conecticut as fast as you possibly can?

Yeah. Me neither. I stay away as much as I am able.

This, unfortunately, is not so realistic, seeing as how I live here. Poop. Fortunately, I only have seven sweet weeks left.

Hold the phone, did I just type SEVEN WEEKS?

That's like, less than two months (wow, now I've resorted to typing that tragic word).

Honestly, all I gotta say is "Woohooooooo!"

Oh, and a little bit of, "Crap! Shit! Fuck!" (sorry, Mom).

But this girl is joining the big ranks, no more registering for classes and choosing housing and walking to class. No siree, I'm moving on to bigger and better! I repeat, woohooooooo!

As I sat outside the Residential Life office this morning awaiting my New York Intern Program phone interview (to be continued, folks), I overheard some poor girls pleading with the bitchy ResLife woman about how they messed up picking their apartment on ResLife's absolutely out-to-screw-you-out-of-housing website. I did feel a little sorry for them. I did the same thing last year and had to resort to making $5/minute international calls from South Africa to Connecticut convincing Steph's mom to call ResLife and use her super-assertiveness to make them fix our problem. But then, I didn't care. I'm outta here, suckas! Seven more weeks. . . . .

In the meantime, I'm stuck here in The Vortex. Campus makes me miserable, classes make me miserable, even my very own cute little apartment makes me somewhat miserable (I say "somewhat" because I do indeed like the quiet refuge of my room--I'm quite proud of my oh-so-Ruth decorating skills).

Perhaps this is just a bad week.

Because after all, look how far I got on yesterday's crossword:



SUPER accomplishment. Now I just need to finish one. Call me an old woman if you'd like, but I'm a sucker for the Daily Campus's crosswords. They highlight my day. Especially when I get really far, without even cheating.

On another note, this is where I want to go Saturday morning:

Greater Vernon Holistic Healthfest.

Sounds lovely, no? I'm so going. It's right up my alley. Naturopathy? Yoga? Stress management? Yes, please. I'll be the girl changing her outfit every 20 minutes in order to outsmart the Therapeutic Massage of Manchester masseuses thereby getting more than one free massage. Sweeeeet.

Okay, so now that it's 9:38pm and reruns of The Office come on on TBS in 22 minutes and I still have to bang out a five-page paper for which I have done zero research, I shall leave you. Farewell.