tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1857981346349948212024-03-17T23:03:39.893-07:00Color Me CaffeinatedCeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.comBlogger65125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185798134634994821.post-74565978049865286852016-12-12T18:18:00.000-08:002016-12-12T18:23:26.830-08:00Post-Grad Passion and Fear <div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;">“I’ve been absolutely terrified every moment of my life and I’ve never let it keep me from doing a single thing that I wanted to do.” — Georgia O’Keeffe</span></div>
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"If you don't care about pollution then there won't be anywhere for tigers to LIVE!" I whined aggressively to my tiger-loving friend amidst my eco-friendly phase in full swing. How could she not GET IT? We have to care about the planet first and foremost because without that, it doesn't matter if the tigers are taken care of or children receive comprehensive sex education! The world will end if we don't do something about global warming! I would run around and unplug everything in the house and yell at everyone for not caring enough.<br />
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That phase didn't last too long.<br />
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I'm still just as full of raging passion as my hormonal 14-year-old self, but I'm definitely <i>infinitely </i>more preoccupied with comprehensive sex education than I am with eco-issues. I'm sorry, planet, I should be better.<br />
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Occasionally -- like in the wake of such a devastating election -- the world feels shaken and unstable, in desperate need of endless work and care. It can feel overwhelming because there are too many injustices in the world that need to be handled, and so little time! Though there is only so much one person can do, only so much work one person can take on. I want to consciously make better and healthier decisions for both my body and the well-being of our planet, but unfortunately for spunky younger Cece, my passion in life is just not global warming. It is instead all things written word and woman. Gender, sexuality, reproduction, health, education, sex, female, justice.<br />
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Cultivating my life's passion has been the most amazing and beautiful feeling, but even still: I don't know what I'm doing -- Just a straight-forward, general statement about me.<br />
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Specifically, I don't know what I'm doing after college. (Although recently, writer and tweeter extraordinaire Dana Schwartz addressed a desperate [mildly pathetic] <a href="http://observer.com/2016/11/dear-stranger-i-have-no-idea-what-im-doing-after-graduation/" target="_blank">cry for help of mine</a>, very kindly and considerately; It was helpful! Somehow it didn't magically sort out my future for me though, I still have to do that myself. Lame.)<br />
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I have no idea what the next stage of my life will look like, and that's terrifying. There was a time when thoughts of post-grad life conjured nothing but a black void of empty darkness...But I have matured since high school, I now know I can envision a lot more irrational late-night decision-making and subsequent crying in bed with a tub of half-melted soy ice cream. I can picture a lot of hours TV show-binging and taco bell-eating. I can at least picture a lot of normal, everyday life stuff. Life still exists, it doesn't end with my current academic career like I once thought it might. I can<i> imagine</i> myself in different professional positions, but I have no idea what I could end up actually doing. This is interesting and exciting, sure, (I could never be a financial advisor person, whatever that is, for example), but it's also CRAZY and SCARY. Even more so when it constantly feels like I'm just not doing enough.<br />
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I'm petrified of what may lie beyond Graduation Day this May, but I've compiled a list of things I do know I want to do for the rest of my life:<br />
<ul>
<li>I want to affect the individual lives of my friends by being supportive and encouraging and loving whenever I possibly can.</li>
<li>I want to positively influence my community by getting involved in local issues like voting and journalism and volunteering.</li>
<li>I want to have an impact on the national conversation around women's rights and reproductive justice; I want to have a hand in these movements working towards a better reality for women everywhere.</li>
<li>I want to talk about sex and health more openly and casually, private and publicly. I want to encourage comprehensive sex education at every level of our society, from kindergartens to nursing homes to our daily lives. Fuck the stigma around our bodies and natural sexual desires.</li>
<li>I want to do the same thing for abortion -- de-stigmatizing abortion is a matter of discussing it alongside any other modern medical procedure. It's normal, healthy, and a completely valid choice for any person with a uterus to make.</li>
<li>I want to constantly strive to further educate and check myself; the more thoughts I expose myself to of people who know more than I do, the better.</li>
<li>I want to grow, and learn, and try new things, and see as much of the world as possible</li>
<li>I want to forgive myself for all I can't do and push myself to do all I can.</li>
</ul>
CeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185798134634994821.post-10209849530161388452016-11-23T13:48:00.001-08:002016-11-23T14:00:12.591-08:00Edinburgh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;">"I always feel that when I come to Edinburgh, in many ways I am coming home." - Alan Rickman</span></div>
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So, normally the bus distinctly does not go to Hogwarts, you've gots to take the train*, but that might just be because the bus trip could potentially take 14 hours.<br />
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After 14 hours of busing from Wales to Scotland, I have never been happier than when we finally arrived. The bus-ride-that-never-ended was frustrating, the hour and a half it took to get checked into the hostel was unbearable, but it was all made right again with dinner at El Toro Loco -- my first burrito in MONTHS. We stayed at the Cowgate Hostel, by FAR the WORST hostel I've stayed at so far unfortunately, with only its location going for it; it <i>is</i> a perfectly central starting-off location.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaKRMomPH0jufGoVntSIumNliQGDFrnfiuOJYXg6pALo0M-e2VOF-ctv_gbInvspvj1vdVTHRt6rT5azlL4ms1V3ygd1eJuiio4Vz8KgU7t6NKhFs0hbd18asXQ0Mn2xT_zSYkSID6XeqN/s1600/IMG_3334.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaKRMomPH0jufGoVntSIumNliQGDFrnfiuOJYXg6pALo0M-e2VOF-ctv_gbInvspvj1vdVTHRt6rT5azlL4ms1V3ygd1eJuiio4Vz8KgU7t6NKhFs0hbd18asXQ0Mn2xT_zSYkSID6XeqN/s320/IMG_3334.JPG" width="320" /></a>Initial introduction to the neighborhood was the pub across the street, The Three Sisters, boasting their Harry Potter week of events, re-dubbing themselves The Leaky Cauldron. Anything Harry Potter is a good omen. The bar hosted football and rugby watch parties on its outdoor patio, serving Butterbeer out of kegs, where large groups drank and sang at the top of their lungs all day and night.<br />
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After <i>finally </i>figuring out the room situation, we bee-lined for the square and I burst into the mexican restaurant arms-flailing, on the verge of tears, "I'm just so happy you exist! I'm so happy you're here!" I called across the glass barrier to the servers. Barbacoa, jalapeños, hot sauce...it was the best goddamn burrito of my life. It was after 10pm at this point and we were past due to start drinking, so we went directly to the club that Viva Trips** was hosting for us, stone cold sober. One of the only things Viva did right the whole weekend was this club, Silk. It was a multi-layer dance club and it was PACKED with international exchange students, all displaying stickers of their home country's flag across their chest; it was incredible to share the dance floor all night with people from all over the world, flags waving proudly from everywhere. Plus, the music was PERFECT and they had real fishbowls. The entire last half an hour or so, from 2:30 - 3ish, they played nothing but Latin music and a girl from Brazil enthusiastically pulled me into her squad's dance circle. It was the most fun I've had out in Europe.<br />
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Isabelle and I tried to venture out further to smaller clubs -- having gotten insider info from my lovely friend Brighid who's studying at the University of Edinburgh for the semester -- but unfortunately inner city scenes mean inner city prices and it was the weekend...we weren't about to pay four pounds entry at 1am. The girls we met in line were absolutely smashed and total sweethearts, though, so still an altogether successful detour. We made our way home around 3:30 and, after the worst shower of my life, slept for exactly four hours before it was time to go, go, go again on our walking tour of the city.<br />
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It turned out to be not so much of a walking tour as just a directed walk around town, absolutely no <i>tour</i> was given whatsoever, but we still hit most spots on my list: started at Calton Hill for those early morning views over the city and a climb on the monuments, stroll across North Bridge to The Elephant House (PERFECTIONNNNNNN; got a latte and a breakfast roll), Greyfriar's Bobby (sorry I definitely rubbed that lil dog's nose for good luck even though I know I read locals hate that particular tourist trend...), saw Tom Riddell's grave, Prince's Street and Gardens, Holyrood House, the base of Arthur's Seat, and just outside Edinburgh Castle. Our hostel's just around the corner from Victoria St. (speculated inspiration for Diagon Alley) so we stumbled up and down that road a few times, as well. (Fun fact: Sunday morning I burst through the doors of what looked to be the only not-full cafe on this block and was actually, physically thrown out the restaurant? If that's what it was? I still don't even know because I asked if I could order coffee there and the guy replied, "We're closed," shoving me out as he shut the door in my face. Lol what????)<br />
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We roamed a farmer's market set up in the square, ate at The Three Sisters, and then wandered Edinburgh's Christmas Market for HOURS. I bought so many gifts!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It was my first UK Christmas Market and the most spectacular display of Christmas spirit I've yet to experience. The sun was just setting on the horizon as we got to the top of the ferris wheel; Edinburgh constantly re-defined magic for me over and over again. Everywhere you look is astounding architecture, breathtaking views, cute shops and cafes, bagpipes fill the air. I'm obsessed.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu0SZ5wVgg1A30Bo6JumK5tplSkeKGmnV9CjUf63vXc3XUmmRoV9ktb3bbKRP90-gyMdDEfN6cFdlbTK9HdlpiC62WsyYzX1A7JX5-rQQqWqXuAW4oFzafdG-v-eQ-iFK2RCdU12PZkHTO/s1600/IMG_3343.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu0SZ5wVgg1A30Bo6JumK5tplSkeKGmnV9CjUf63vXc3XUmmRoV9ktb3bbKRP90-gyMdDEfN6cFdlbTK9HdlpiC62WsyYzX1A7JX5-rQQqWqXuAW4oFzafdG-v-eQ-iFK2RCdU12PZkHTO/s320/IMG_3343.JPG" width="320" /></a>Saturday evening we explored the bar's upstairs The Three Sisters, home to the Edinburgh Napier University student union: a bar completely transformed into The Leaky Cauldron. I'm not sure if it looks like that all the time, but they went ALL OUT. The walls were painted with cauldrons, burning candles on every table, stacks on dusty books and brooms lined the walls, every TV playing the HP soundtrack over video of a Leaky Cauldron set. This was magical, the 2 pound pints for students were the cherry on top. The video of the Leaky set was extra fun when they started playing Fetty Wap and Wiz Khalifa. I went to the same restaurant and had the same dinner from the first night because I'm the worst kind of burrito-fiend American tourist; sorry, Haggis, maybe later.<br />
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Saturday's club was ok, the music wasn't as good and the drinks were more expensive, but the bathrooms were funky as hell and we all got glow sticks and our faces painted. It was exactly how 16-year-old me imagined a British clubbing experience would be, honestly. It was super great to be surrounded by international kids the whole time (EVERYONE knew the actual words to Numa Numa, it was an incredible thing to be a part of) but it would have been cool to hang with some actually Scottish peeps, too. I'll have to work harder to seek out the locals next time.<br />
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This was when my ankle started to rebel against the rest of my body, that's not entirely unexpected after a full day of walking followed by a night of dancing, so I limped home early through the quieter neighborhoods with my lovely friends. The men singing in The Three Sisters courtyard lulled me to sleep.<br />
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The next morning was rough; my ankle had only gotten worse throughout the night rather than better and we were out on the town with all our luggage at 10 am with nothing but time to kill until our bus left at 2. Coffee and breakfast killed an hour, but the cafes are so small that hanging around really isn't an option with people fighting for tables. So we wandered, limping, aimlessly. (This was when I was thrown out of that restaurant...Never forgive, never forget.) We finally settled into a bar and ordered exactly one cup of tea to sit for two and a half hours.<br />
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As usual, I wasn't ready to say goodbye to this gorgeous city, but I was looking forward to my tiny Swansea dorm room home. The trip was only 10 hours this time...Bless. The bus driver entertained us with a Scottish comedian's special followed by the classic, Old School. Both were honestly more offensive than they were funny, so. He tried.<br />
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Regardless of all the mishaps and frustrations, the fact that my ankle has caused me intense pain since Saturday, the buses, the motion sickness, the hostel, the bitter cold...Edinburgh is a top contender for my favorite city in the world. The whole weekend I was overwhelmed with the desire to live there, I would move in a second. I can't wait to go back to Scotland.<br />
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*<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3DVm_-c-Hls" target="_blank">#tbt</a><br />
**The worst trip company, would definitely not recommend.CeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185798134634994821.post-75036415487463435032016-11-17T08:04:00.000-08:002016-11-17T08:36:48.714-08:00Back at it.<div class="p1">
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<span style="background-color: white;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s1SaD-gSZO4&feature=youtu.be" target="_blank">"Let's get off the floor and get busy, especially you, white women. We've got some karma to work off."</a> - Samantha Bee</span><br />
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I've never bought any Lush products before this week but in the wake of the post-election slump, I knew it was time. I deserved this bath bomb shaped like an ACTUAL CHRISTMAS PRESENT. My house has two bathrooms, one with a shower and one with a tub; this means, obviously, everyone uses the shower because we're grown ass adult women, but also…there's nothing like a fancy grown ass adult lady bath with wine, candles, and sparkling blue-green water swirling in gold glitter...and re-reading the first Harry Potter for the 800th time. It was the definition of cwtch and hygge all rolled together into one night. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2mjU_CP7hEoSmJgEBbLASgKY8I7tuhBF3S0wTL5Ffw228I9noJ182PcfaJbT-KqOiEZEnGtiFGKjW7YMrQAM4Bp6z47yhkRDXhRIC5N7NHOBXVJVeQ7pivf4PVyjIVVHf20KYlMR8Rmq-/s1600/Lush+Golden+Wonder+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2mjU_CP7hEoSmJgEBbLASgKY8I7tuhBF3S0wTL5Ffw228I9noJ182PcfaJbT-KqOiEZEnGtiFGKjW7YMrQAM4Bp6z47yhkRDXhRIC5N7NHOBXVJVeQ7pivf4PVyjIVVHf20KYlMR8Rmq-/s320/Lush+Golden+Wonder+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From <a href="http://www.kimberleysbeautyblog.com/2013/12/lush-golden-wonder-bath-bomb-review.html" target="_blank">Kimberly's Beauty Blog</a> because I was too eager.</td></tr>
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I've been exploiting the system and getting free samples of each different face mask and ultimately decided to invest in the Love Lettuce. As a Made-In-Britain product, it is a lot cheaper here, so I figure it's worth the little bit of added weight to my bags on the trip home. Plus, there's just something about being here that has made me break out LIKE CRAZY. Probably the fact that I'm cheap as fuck and bought Tesco brand face wash -- I really should have bought a real brand but I'm half way through the bottle now, no going back.<br />
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I want to say I didn't blog because I haven't had wifi at my house for the last two days (can you imagine the TORTURE?! All I could do was read BOOKS and listen to pre-downloaded PODCASTS. [It was hard being cut off, no joke, but honestly was also kind of a relief. I suddenly had a perfectly good excuse to take a break. My hands were totally tied.]) but it's also because I haven't known what to say, honestly. I still don't. The world feels so very different now, but it really isn't that different: we just have to face the truth now. I have so much to say; I've spent a lot of time scribbling away on scrap paper, journaling, making notes on my laptop. I've spent a lot of time working through refuting made up opposition in my mind, going over point after point of potential debates. It's definitely not the best way to spend my time and it's really just making me even more anxious, but it's how I've been processing.<br />
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I've also deleted Facebook from my phone and avoided it entirely all last weekend. Other than the bath bomb, that was the best decision I made this week.</div>
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But, of course, I can't ignore what's going on around me, and neither can you. (It would, of course, be all too easy…but that's our white privilege. Accept this, embrace the discomfort, and work against it.) Listen to the people who are afraid, understand where they're coming from, know what's happening in the world. </div>
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We fucked up. We have to do better.</div>
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Donate to charities and organizations fighting for good in the world. (Check out this <a href="http://jezebel.com/a-list-of-pro-women-pro-immigrant-pro-earth-anti-big-1788752078" target="_blank">great comprehensive list covering a range of issues.</a>)</div>
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Speak up and out with your friends, family, strangers. Call your representatives. </div>
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Read as much as you can, as widely as you can. (Like lists on <i>actually productive things</i> white people need to do, <a href="https://medium.com/@keeltyc/how-to-easily-be-a-white-ally-to-marginalized-communities-fb0ff326e7ac#.3ro3tfque" target="_blank">like this</a> and the one I've linked below by Packnett.)</div>
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Take care of yourself; get yourself that bath bomb.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: white;"><a href="http://www.vox.com/first-person/2016/11/14/13626404/trump-election-protest" target="_blank">"Never should the majority of the burden to end oppression fall on the oppressed. White people must be the primary ones to deal with what white people cause."</a></span> - Brittney Packnett</span></div>
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CeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185798134634994821.post-13869710986360816482016-11-07T15:46:00.001-08:002017-02-23T12:26:00.352-08:00VOTE!<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;">"On November 9, we will have to become a unified country again," - <a href="http://observer.com/2016/11/how-to-unite-a-country-of-people-who-hate-each-other/" target="_blank">Dana Schwartz.</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
The election is tomorrow but the ordeal is far from over.<br />
<br />
It's the only thing we've been hearing about for two years now, it felt so far off when once upon a time it was announced that an actual personified joke would be running for President of the United States. But no one's laughing on Election Eve.<br />
<br />
It's the first thing anyone mentions at the sound of my accent, right after they ask if I own any guns: "Who're you voting for?"<br />
<br />
It's on BBC daily in the student center. It's mentioned in every lecture. It's on everyone's minds.<br />
<br />
The world is watching and I'm afraid.<br />
<br />
"It's a big one..." the postal employee says, her eyes wide when I request an envelope to send home my US ballot. She's shaking her head, generally astonished.<br />
<br />
"I know, it's been CRAZY. Definitely more dramatic than any election I've seen so far." She says she's never seen anything like it...I hope out loud we never see one this awful again. (Although, with our parameter for awful-ness now set so high, I shudder to imagine how it could get worse.)<br />
<br />
Either way the results come in, whoever wins in the end, can anyone predict what happens next? I haven't the faintest idea. I can't picture the next move; it's all just a black intimidating abyss. I remember the relative easing in of the Obama administration, nothing changed at first -- it was a slow two months until he was sworn in, from what I remember (I wasn't paying as much attention the first Obama term, because I was young [I couldn't vote until his second]). It honestly felt a little anti-climactic, even with crossing the milestone of electing the first black president.<br />
<br />
The whole world knows this election with be anything but anticlimactic. No matter who wins, the aftermath is still so up in the air, unclear, ready to explode. I'm nervous about watching it unfold from afar. I'm scared that this Presidency could do a lot of damage, both foreign and domestic.<br />
<br />
It has been the global sentiment I've encountered so far: US politics affects everyone, everywhere. This is baffling to think about considering the small number of people that actually have a say in who wins US elections -- The US voter population is so vastly dwarfed by the reach of our political impact. Further more, we have the most ridiculous thing in the world called the Electoral College and they get to decide who wins the presidency, anyway, potentially regardless of the popular vote.<br />
<br />
All that matters is you vote, regardless of the system. We have to work with what we've got and make our voices heard -- especially women and people of color. Countless people have given their lives to make sure that people who aren't white males have access to this system in the first place. Disenfranchised voices are the ones that need to be heard the most! There are powerful people working all over the country in a myriad of ways to make voting harder for people whose voices they don't want to hear, even still in 2016. If that doesn't make you pissed enough to vote, then I hope you can find something that does motivate you to vote, anyway.<br />
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The election ends tomorrow night but this is just the beginning of the next four years. And also the rest of forever. But no pressure.CeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185798134634994821.post-45612596155083285352016-11-03T19:29:00.001-07:002016-11-03T19:29:44.433-07:00HomeIt's essentially midterm week and I have two major assignments due on Monday, including what is turning out to be one of the hardest papers of my college career, so it's a short, quick list tonight.<br />
<br />
Things I Miss From Home:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>My mom and grandparents</li>
<li>MY DOG, MARGO!!!!!!!!!!!!! </li>
<li>Chipotle</li>
<li>Taco Bell</li>
<li>Anything even remotely mexican</li>
<li>Athens, OH</li>
<li>my friends</li>
<li>phone calls that don't get dropped </li>
<li>Wings Over Athens</li>
<li>O'Betty's</li>
<li>squirrels</li>
<li>my bed and allllll my pillows</li>
</ul>
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I'm really not homesick, I mainly just miss my people and my food. I'll be excited to be home again once I'm there, but I'm really looking forward to the next two months. Time's flying by too quickly, I want to enjoy being here while I'm here.</div>
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<br />CeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185798134634994821.post-47667024567247031832016-10-31T10:30:00.003-07:002016-10-31T10:59:50.930-07:00LOVE!<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;">“I fall in love with Britain every day, with bridges, buses, blue skies... but it’s a brutal world, man.” </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;">― <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/730760.Pete_Doherty">Pete Doherty</a></span><br />
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Things I Love About Living in the UK:<br />
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Puppies, everywhere. They're very often off the leash and roaming free and excited but still ever-attentive to their owner. Every time I leave the house I meet a pup on the street. I LOVE IT. The beach is especially popular for dog walkers and it's honestly distracting -- How am I supposed to focus on the beauty of nature when new dogs are romping past in all directions?! The picture above might look like a stunning sunset, but really I was trying to capture the majesty of that little black dog attempting to tackle and chomp wave after wave; consistently the cutest thing I've ever seen is replaced every day by a different dog.<br />
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I love the linguistic regionalisms, I love getting to say things like "flat," "cheers," and "quid." My fellow Americans and I actually sat around and practiced casually saying "Cheers" one day early on -- As you're expected to thank the bus driver every time you get off a bus, that is a lot of opportunity to offer up a "Cheers." I've gotten pretty good at the jargon, not gonna lie.<br />
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I love being surrounded by accents. It's such a simple thing but being in a place where everyone sounds different than everyone back home is just exciting. It's new and different. I've always been fascinated by language and passionate about the written word but the History of the English Language class I took with Dr. Stallard last semester seriously changed my life a little bit. I love the history of language. I, being a total slacker loser, arrogantly shirked the foreign language requirement in high school, so I could've found out I love foreign languages, too, before I took French in college and came abroad and experienced immersion in a foreign language first hand. I loved being surrounded by unintelligible Portuguese and Spanish. I love hearing conversations in tones and dialects unfamiliar to me. It makes me eager to learn. The satisfaction of even just being able to communicate the most basic concepts is exciting enough to make me want more.<br />
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Relatedly, I love being the only American in a room! That is 100% a room I want to be in. I want to hang with people from different backgrounds, I want to hear their different perspectives. Of course, interactions very often begin with the question: "Who're you voting for?" Obviously I can't blame them for caring, everyone has stressed the unfortunate global impact of American politics. It only sucks when it becomes an uncontrollable political firestorm of passion and frustration and downright nasty rhetoric, which happens everywhere, but it is different here when I'm The American in the conversation. Otherwise, it's cool being the only one in the room with an "accent." It makes it super easy to start conversation; people have loads of questions, and I do, too. I love the American friends I've made, I love that we're so close, but I came here for international experiences, you know? I want to talk about what Welsh life is like with Welsh people, I want to find out what I should do and where I should go on my trip to Bath from an English person raised there, only Swansea-ians know the best cafes/bars/student discount hotspots.<br />
<br />
The beautiful bookstore, Waterstones. I can't even walk by without popping in and doing a lap. It smells perfect, the mix of books and coffee from their cafe; they've squeezed so many display tables piled high with books that it's almost hard to navigate; it's all cream colored and warm and cozy. It's exactly what a bookstore should be and it's so hard to find back home with book shops closing at every turn over the years. I'm all about supporting independent bookstores, but you really can't beat the Swansea Waterstones atmosphere. They've had Christmas decorations out all month and I'm such a sucker for Christmas, always.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnPbnuRYOi-xhGwoxCkCyXbtJomU5rfXGtHIFdkB3s4Py2nKZ5RMG-ngrwxM8TcG85BCtrLcvcl-f0MrKHIRA-Q34LhW5KQj9R26AWLJb7pRIFz3_AeSHA2DNT7HNBCxXF31Zg7ANfXMZA/s1600/IMG_2218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnPbnuRYOi-xhGwoxCkCyXbtJomU5rfXGtHIFdkB3s4Py2nKZ5RMG-ngrwxM8TcG85BCtrLcvcl-f0MrKHIRA-Q34LhW5KQj9R26AWLJb7pRIFz3_AeSHA2DNT7HNBCxXF31Zg7ANfXMZA/s320/IMG_2218.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
The rainy days, perfect for settling into a cafe or reading in bed. Perfect for <a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=cwtch" target="_blank">cwtch</a>. Not as perfect to get caught outside in, but that's not always a bad thing either! The atmosphere feels essentially British when it rains.<br />
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THE SUNNY DAYS! Today was the epitome of a perfect Welsh day, just over 60 degrees Fahrenheit (basically as warm as it gets here) and not a single cloud in the sky. Everyone's out and about in t-shirts and going tights-less in shorts and skirts. The bay is pretty magical sunny or cloudy, but it just feels right getting that vitamin D with your toes in the sand.<br />
<br />
Traveling has always been my number one goal in life and it's hard to believe I'm finally doing it -- even still, two months into my trip. It really hits me sometimes the proximity I'm in to so much of the world I've dreamt of seeing. In the back of my mind I doubted whether or not I'd ever be able to make it happen, so to live on this continent, even temporarily, means so much to me in and of itself.<br />
<br />
Potentially most of all, I love being in a place with so much history. Not just history, everywhere has history, but see-able, touch-able history. There is so much that is SO old here and still intact. It can be so easy to imagine the past as far gone and unfathomable but then you're stared in the face by a 600 year old building or a 5000 year old tomb and there's the past demanding to be remembered and felt and experience as something Real and Concrete. Plus, as one of the rowdiest former colonies, we never learned that much about British history, or at least we barely scratched the surface of it. This forces me to do a lot of googling as independent research in order to make sure I have my monarchy facts and timelines straight. Which rebellion happened under which monarch? Who came before whom? Who did they colonize and when? (The English Crown has existed for a VERYYYYY LONG TIME, Y'ALL. I don't even know for absolute certain the names and order of all the US presidents.) And, as I suspected, studying British history and politics is so much more fun in Britain. American politics is fascinating here, too, they literally have an entire American Studies department.<br />
<br />
Next Tuesday, you know what it is, their hosting an all-nighter to watch the election results come through at the student union bar (I love that, too) -- which will definitely be a unique experience.<br />
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<br />CeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185798134634994821.post-79887452254733632552016-10-27T17:52:00.002-07:002016-10-27T17:52:35.609-07:00Differences!<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;">“Appreciation for cultural diversity is essential for our co-existence.” </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;">― Lailah Gifty Akita</span></div>
<br />
'What's different?' is a question I'm often asked, and often pondering naturally without even being prompted. It's literally the reason I'm here: to live and learn in a place that's unfamiliar. Growing up in one place sets you up with solidified expectations for daily life, so when immersed in a new environment you immediately start to pick up on everything.<br />
<br />
It's really a collection of tiny differences, but it's the minute details that are the most fun of life, right?<br />
<br />
Like spelling: Today a kid next to me asked aloud to me and the girl beside me, "Is 'defense' spelled with an 's' or a 'c'?" He was genuinely unsure, small details like this is easy to mix-up, we've all done it. I immediately replied, "S." Then hesitated, "Or, at least it is in the States..." The girl beside me kindly chimed in, "It's a 'c'," and he nodded and continued writing. I laughed because I thought it was an amusing interaction, but I in no way believe that with an 's' is the CORRECT spelling of "defense" (I mean, except let's be real, it looks better. Colour looks better with a 'u', defense looks better with an 's.' One language can't win them all) and I see how I was definitely the Annoying American in that instance. My b; Annoying American runs in my veins. (Proud and embarrassed all at once like a True American!)<br />
<br />
Fashion is much more relaxed than I anticipated; when discussing European clothes, everyone warned about the faux pas of wearing leggings or looking at all not put together. But at least in Wales, while it is more common than not to be surrounded by people purposefully dressed <i>well</i> daily, there are still a lot of leggings on campus! It's really not that weird. I suppose it may be more the athletic types that sport this kind of (blegh) 'athleisure' look, but what do they know? I could be on my way to or from the gym in my leggings, as well. Just in general Wales is an extremely relaxed country. No one ever seems to be very worked up about things like bus schedules or service in restaurants, let alone pants. (Or, trousers?)<br />
<br />
Boy, is service in restaurants different. It is very European for meals to be a long, relaxed experience rather than an American get-in get-out, but it is something that takes adjustment. I'm really not accustomed to being served slowly and lackadaisically and so it initially comes off as feeling very rude...but it's just different. They don't stop by the table more than maybe three times, unlike me who's been trained to be attentive to every whim of a patron and generally coddle them. In turn, I'm used to being coddled and so when my waiter is distant and hard to keep track of it really feels like a slight. I <i>know</i> it's not, I've been told it's considered rude for the waiter to be on top of you like they're rushing you out, so I'm working on giving myself over to the relaxed atmosphere. Restaurants are the definition of chill and man, that is so un-American. I never realized. It would definitely help if I stopped waiting until I'm absolutely, angrily starving to go out for a sit down meal...because it's going to take a while.<br />
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One of the strangest differences is that, despite the presence of four different types of garbage and recycling bins conveniently stationed beside every door on campus -- which is awesome, love the commonality of recycling -- people will leave trash laying around literally everywhere. It's not considered weird or impolite or basically littering to simply leave your trash where it lay when you get up and walk <i>directly past the trash can</i> on your way out. I was in the student union for a Halloween Movie Night (Hocus Pocus!!!!!!!!!!) and on my stroll to the bathroom I passed the Great Hall and it was buried in trash. Just piles of student garbage lining the walls waiting for some poor cleaning crew to come around and put it right again for the next day.<br />
<br />
It's just interesting that my British peers seem to be so focused on the necessary politeness of thanking the bus driver for driving you home (great!!! Love it!) but so thoughtless to how simply throwing away your trash makes other peoples' job easier. Also, I'm sorry, it just makes sense and it doesn't leave your surroundings a mess. I just don't get it.<br />
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Currency is obviously different! While the exchange rate's not bomb all the time, it is exciting to collect a small (vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv small) fortune in several different currencies. Basically as long as there's someway to exchange currency before you get stuck in a British taxi with no way to pay the driver because you literally just got off a bus in the middle of no where an hour ago and its 4 AM and they don't have any ATMs within the vicinity...you're fine! It may be because I flew into Ireland first (aka the greatest country on Earth) but I'm super biased for the Euro and I don't even really know why or have a reason to be.<br />
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These are only little things I pick up on because they're just different enough to notice; It's not a drastically different culture here in Wales. Everyone is incredibly nice and I'm really thankful to have ended up here specifically. I'm loving it :)<br />
<br />
An extra list of differences my American housemates added when I asked:<br />
<br />
- children are eloquent as heck here, it's not just a British stereotype, they really do say things like "delightful"<br />
- tight ass jeans on everyone all the time<br />
- no ranch dressing<br />
- paying for public bathrooms?!<br />
- boys are way more aggressive at clubs<br />
- they don't do ice hereCeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185798134634994821.post-83897960214656986042016-10-24T16:15:00.001-07:002016-10-27T17:55:42.143-07:00Sport!?<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“Document the moments you feel most in love with yourself - what you’re wearing, who you’re around, what you’re doing." - Warsan Shire</span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span>
I went windsurfing!<br />
<br />
Four years ago I took Freshman Advice very seriously; I threw myself into new waters, diving into a new school, town, environment, chapter of my life on my own and determinedly forced myself to talk to anyone and everyone that happened to be within earshot. This is one thing that hasn't changed over the course of my collegiate experience: when in doubt, I'll chat it up. (Though honestly it is always more fear [fear of loneliness, fear of missing out] than confidence that pushes me to this, but the end result is the same, either way.) That same instinct was put to good use again as I embarked on this term and one of the reasons why I chased after a man on the street because of his hoodie.<br />
<br />
"Excuse me!" I called out, tailing a tall dude in wave-emblazened black. "What's your hoodie about?" He was clearly taken aback but politely and enthusiastically told me about windsurfing, anyway. They go every Wednesday, beginners welcome. Sign me up. It took two weeks to get to it, but I managed to recruit my housemates and thus four American amateurs threw themselves into the freezing waters of a Welsh lake. Literally. We threw our bodies into the lake over and over and over again. Turns out windsurfing takes a lot more muscle than anticipated -- I never envisioned how the sail got upright, in my mind it always just <i>was...</i>but, no, you have to pull it up yourself. Then you have to hang on real tight and steady or the wind betrays you and everything goes tits up from there.*<br />
<br />
I loved it, though, at least with all the parts of my body that hadn't gone numb from the cold. (My toes weren't a big fan but they'll get over it. "No one's ever lost an appendage doing this, right?" I asked the crew that was corralling us all back to shore via a small motor boat. "We have had people missing a few fingers do it!" They replied, taking a suspiciously long time to confirm it wasn't during windsurfing that the loss of fingers occurred...) During the few precious moments of standing upright, shoulders back, and gripping the angled sail without immediately losing balance I forced myself to take a deep breath and gaze ahead at the horizon. The sky was a clouded grey, thankfully dry, but smeared like dirty paintbrush water. Just above the tree line was a bright white as the sun began its descent, contrasting the forest green trees in a way almost prettier than on sunny days. The ocean lay just beyond the trees and behind me sat a small castle on a hill, as they often do in Wales.<br />
<br />
It's these fleeting moments of serenity that I often try to solidify in my memory, "This is my life. I'm 22 in Wales and I'm <i>windsurfing</i>." Somehow stating the facts quietly to myself and blinking really hard and purposefully brings me fully into the present. I keep these small snapshots of myself at various ages (normally high peaks of emotion because obviously those are the most poignant, but really any moment can be infused with emotion and isn't that cool!?!?: passionately sobbing at 11, watching the sunrise at 14, clinging to my best friends at 17) in hopes of remembering at least snippets of what it felt like to be me at that age. I want to fully be able to respect my past and present self by preserving her as best as I can at least in my own mind. The fear of a failing memory is definitely one of the many reasons I'm so drawn to journaling, and even blogging. Maybe it's narcissistic -- what's <i>so</i> worth preserving? But fuck that, we should be important to ourselves. We're the only self we've got to know and love and enjoy and remember for our lives. Especially as constantly changing individuals we're all interesting AS HECK. Honestly, I generally love people's thoughts and feelings. I want to get to know you like I want to get to know myself. Being a person is pretty inherently interesting, everything else only adds to it.<br />
<br />
I guess the goal is to be eighty and still be able to feel the Welsh wind on my face that I felt at twenty-two while windsurfing.<br />
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*Actual charming quote from a girl in my Medieval to Postmodern Lit class, referring to The Lais of Marie de France but it works here, as well, I think!CeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185798134634994821.post-91746473142148544662016-10-19T14:42:00.000-07:002016-10-19T14:51:34.736-07:00Iberia!Last Wednesday saw me in my professor's office on the first week of school. I was there to anxiously inform him that, however amped I was to study Dylan Thomas, I would be missing the first two lectures of the term...because I was taking a week off to galavant through Portugal and Spain...because I'm an uncultured American who's never been anywhere and a girl whose life mottos are sometimes too heavily influenced by <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yp5FgwS4XT0" target="_blank">Hilary Duff</a>...<br />
<br />
"Enjoy Iberia!" He exclaimed as I left, relieved he'd been so understanding. I smiled and thanked him and perhaps threw a 'thumbs up' at him because for some reason Europe's done that to me?? It wasn't until I was on the other side of the door I realized it wouldn't have been ridiculous for me to ask him what "Iberia" was instead of contemplating on my own the word I'd never heard before. It's nice that even though I've yet to have a class with him, the prof's still managed to teach me something (with a lil help from Google.)<br />
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<br />
My Iberian adventure was unbelievable.<br />
<br />
I bought myself a bottle of wine (rose, not the normal plane size bottle -- imagine a toddler size bottle rather than the teeny tiny baby kind) on the flight in while the man next to me taught me a few key Portuguese phrases. The airport shuttle ride was me and five middle aged vacationers who I informed, very excitedly, that it was my 22nd birthday in one hour, can you believe it?! The hour long ride from Faro to Armação de Pêra soundtracked by a night club kind of Portuguese/Late 2000s hits mix and I was in awe of Portugal at every turn. They dropped me off in front of a cyber cafe/convenient store (yes...for real) when I realized I had no idea what the actual apartment number was...Also I was apparently in the wrong place entirely...After an anxious 10 minutes the sight of Alexa and Gwen running towards me from the down the street, while the two kind Portuguese store clerks looked on in amusement at the wild American girls hugging and yelling, filled me relief and elation.<br />
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Birthday excitement flowing through my veins it wasn't even that difficult to get out of bed for a beach sunrise. The serenity of a deserted oceanfront at daybreak, soft sand, warm water, everything awash in oranges, pinks, blues, yellows; I've never known colors that vibrant. It was the perfect start to an absolutely perfect day.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dranks In The Ocean</td></tr>
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We returned to the beach a few hours later properly packed to settle in for the day, equipped with enough wine, beer, and snacks for the afternoon...Not enough sunscreen, however, I literally emptied my bottle right then and there, which left all of us burnt in unfortunate and strange patterns across our bodies.<br />
<br />
It was six hours of laughing, bonding with new friends, catching up with old ones, discussing the future and the past, eating everything, briefly going topless because we could. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and I didn't have a care in the world. (This is not a normal feeling for me, a constant ball of anxiety.) It was the most relaxed I've ever been in my life.<br />
<br />
I treated myself to a birthday steak dinner, obviously, and extremely overpriced Sangria, then we hit Albufeira for the night clubs. As the area's a tourist spot, the bars were mostly middle aged Brits on holiday (seriously Brits get to go on SO MANY HOLIDAYS; jobs here just let people have time off...all the time. Like, every year. It's bonkers. Get that together, America), but one club played "Gasolina" followed by "Jai Ho" and then Shakira's anthem "Waka Waka" and it was the highlight of my night.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">happy girls</td></tr>
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The next day took us to Lisbon, where we stayed at the world's greatest (medium-sized) hostel, according to <a href="http://www.hostelworld.com/hoscars" target="_blank">HostelWorld</a> and according to ME out of all the hostels I've stayed in so far. It's literally called HOME, it's cozy AS HECK, with a patio, living room, and full-experience three course home-cooked meals every night made by the owner Mamma for only 10 EURO. She literally takes everyone's personal dietary restrictions into consideration. It was incomparable. We saw Lisbon's open-air church and museum, the Castle of St. Jorge, and unreal views from a couple of the cities' miradouros. One of Portugal's 'things' is free shots upon welcoming someone and with every dinner and it is one of my favorite countries in the world, so far. Portugal and Ireland have absolutely stolen my heart.<br />
<br />
Cheetah Girl's 2 gave me high hopes for Barcelona, and it met them, but October in Iberia means winter's coming and that means rain season. It absolutely poured straight through our first day in Spain, the kind of storm that doesn't allow for great exploration. I managed to see a lot of the Gothic Quarter though, and honestly, it was some of the most incredible and oldest architecture I've ever experienced, so, cool. I ate patatas bravas either with or in substitute of every meal and mixed a lot of wine and cerveza.<br />
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The overcast skies didn't deter us from what I came to Barcelona determined to do: Monserrat. It's a serrated mountain ridge, with an old church and abbey built into it, and Spain's first National Park. Astonishing doesn't begin to describe the entire impact of being there. It was by far the peak of the trip and potentially my entire life -- Four years in private Catholic school, forced to go to church at least once a week, and I've never felt closer to religion than literally above the clouds, sitting atop a Spanish mountain.<br />
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Gwen, Ashley, and I then braved the extremely aggressive club promoters of La Rambla and Plaça Reial and spent the night bumpin' and grindin' in an undeniably hip but small, sweaty basement. I'm pretty sure we left around 2/2:30, but the club showed no signs of slowing down. At all. The clubs literally stay open until the party dies and sometimes the Barcelona party don't stop until, like, 7 AM. I was busing to the airport Saturday morning at 7 and actually watched hoards of drunk people crawling from clubs to cabs with the sunrise. It was honestly kind of beautiful.<br />
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The third day was finally sunny and warm and we hit the dry pavement, covering over half the width of the surprisingly large city, passing by Gaudí's Sagrada Família and spending the afternoon wandering Park Güell. It's been hard to say goodbye to every city so far, but the end of a trip is always a confusing co-mingling of relieved exhaustion, disappointment that it's over, and excitement to move on to what's next.<br />
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Swansea welcomed me home again with clear skies and a huge group hug from my lovely new Swan friends.<br />
<br />CeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185798134634994821.post-65050510885013386452016-02-24T09:02:00.003-08:002017-02-23T12:07:48.192-08:00My Space: Not the Website <h1 class="quoteText" style="color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px 0px 15px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;">“Any woman who chooses to behave like a full human being should be warned that the armies of the status quo will treat her as something of a dirty joke . . . She will need her sisterhood.” - Gloria Steinem</span></h1>
It's very frustrating to realize that all of history has strategized to create a society in which men feel absolutely entitled to my space.<br />
<br />
I went out to the bar with a friend -- I'd been having a fantastic evening and I was jazzed to have a beer, dance, hang out. But all night long I encountered the same problem...Extremely forward men. I don't know if it was worse than normal, or if I was just more aware of it, but I ended up feeling uncomfortable the majority of the night until I ended up home early with a stomach ache unrelated to the singular beer I consumed but completely tied to the way I was treated by random men.<br />
<br />
It was several different things, beginning with the Aggressive Staring across the bar that is like, <i>theoretically </i>harmless except undeniably threatening and violating nevertheless. All I can do to avoid potentially dangerous confrontation is try my best to ignore them, avoid their eye-line, and pretend that dancing under their gaze doesn't make me feel like I exist to entertain them. That's not my job. (If you want to watch me like that you really should be paying me, I'm just saying.) I could not possibly care less how a random man in a bar -- or anywhere -- perceives me; why do they feel the need to wink and wave like I should be grateful for their approval when I've CLEARLY spent all evening grimacing at their advances and distinctly shifting away from their approaches?<br />
<br />
That's one thing...Then there's the Cornering.<br />
<br />
It happens literally out of no where: two grown-ass men will swoop in together and all of a sudden, there's one in front and one beside and only one way out. It happened twice in one night! At one bar! In the same general area! Four different men! What is this?! I'm very small, but I'm not invisible...even if they aren't making eye contact (????????? what is this about ??????) I know that they see me. I've been dancing in this spot for an hour. Back yourself up. But no, I have to grab my stuff from the spot beside me and shimmy down the bar, the bar that is entirely empty on either side because it is 12:30 on a Tuesday night, and re-establish a position over there. Amazingly enough, a minute later the men decide they aren't so attached to that specific spot anymore and leave. Shocking. What made that particular spot so appealing just a moment before?<br />
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That move must be totally unrelated to my presence, though, right? Am I making this all about me? Am I being self-centered? Except then I sit on the wall, an elevated shelf there, and I'm just minding my own business, casually swaying to Lil Wayne and watching Betty White inexplicably on TV. Then BAM! In the blink of an eye, there's a man directly blocking my left and an even larger man blocking my front -- completely barring me from being able to hop down to the floor without confrontation. But they won't look at me! They're both literally UP AGAINST MY KNEES!!!!!!! But they won't actually make eye contact! (I mean, I definitely don't want to make eye contact with them, that can turn aggressive too quickly. It's just such a strange sitaution. It's like they're ignoring me from directly on top of me. Why?) I stare in stunned disbelief, and heave a sigh. I'm appalled. I throw my hands up and pull my legs onto the bar instead of jumping down; I step over the pile of coats and scarves and bags and sit on the other end of the entirely. empty. bar. AKA: where they could have gone to set up in the first place instead of forcing me to move. Then (NOTICING PATTERNS) they leave. As soon as it registers that I'm gone, they evaporate into thin air. Unbelievable.<br />
<br />
It is an entirely empty bar, but they choose to stand in my lap. When it happens twice within an hour, it's not a coincidence or merely oblivious drunk dudes...it's a problem with an utter disrespect for women's personal space.<br />
<br />
The cherry on top, the complete trifecta of Awful Interactions With Men, was the Verbal Attack in the form of a man directly pointing out my physical disadvantage to him. My friend and I had decided to finish the night at another bar, ran into the rain and across the street, but of course it's crazy to think that two young, attractive females could hope to exist in a bar undisturbed. While I had been annoyed originally, pissed off by the second intrusion, it was the third instance when I knew the night was over.<br />
<br />
Let me break it down for you: There's a giant problem when a drunk man at the bar leans into my face, staring unseeing and uncaring at my disgusted expression, and points out repeatedly that I would be unable to fight him off. That is literally what I had to deal with and I'm expected not to pepper spray him just for saying such a thing. Thank you for needlessly pointing out our size difference! Thank you for senselessly disregarding the fact that I am ignoring you and just continue to repeat the phrase, "You have no bows!!!! You have NO BOWS!" in reference to my lack of muscle mass over and over and OVER again until I literally throw my weight into the elbow I do possess an inch from your face and I want nothing more than to obliterate your nose right then and there. He continues, "I'm like, 250 pounds. You've got nothing. That's weak. That's weak."<br />
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I could vomit right now just <i>remembering</i> hearing that.<br />
<br />
This is not flirting. This is not cute. This is threatening. I am aware I am very much half your size, male person, I am reminded of this every second of every day in every situation I am ever in. The fact that the idea of my inability to defend myself was something this man fixated on so passionately...It makes me sick. "That's comforting, thank you," I replied. There was no life in his eyes and he couldn't see me, let alone imagine me as fully human. A friend of a friend I just met two seconds previous and with no relevance or provocation whatsoever he began screaming that I "have no bows." It wasn't even like we were cracking jokes about play fighting or something weird and dumb and casual; I didn't say more than "Hi, yeah, I'm friends with so-and-so," when all of a sudden he was obsessed with my elbows and stature.<br />
<br />
What a magnificent time to be had by all. Once again, after only being in the bar for five minutes, I couldn't do it anymore and left.<br />
<br />
I feel like there's so little I can do in response to these things! That's the most frustrating part. Is there a Best Way To React? I'm forced to leave the environment that they've now claimed as their own because I am small and helpless and "a bitch" if I say something.<br />
<br />
Forget that.CeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185798134634994821.post-45756700279617890652016-01-04T12:08:00.001-08:002016-01-04T12:30:29.898-08:00New Year, New Resolutions<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: black;">"I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes. Because if you are making mistakes, you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You're doing things you've never done before, and more importantly, you're doing something." - Neil Gaiman</span><br />
</div>
Seasons, semesters, holidays, years, months, days, birthdays -- all tools we have instituted into society in order to keep track of time. And I love them.<br />
<br />
I'm a hugely nostalgic, sentimental sap, while slightly embarrassing and childish, it might be one of my favorite parts of myself because I genuinely derive so much pleasure from marking the passage of time. Whether that's through journals, pictures, blogs; I eat it up. I seek out books and songs and people that make me feel deeply because I LOVE IT. I think everyone generally enjoys, you know, <i>feeling,</i> duh. But to someone who doesn't, I don't know if there's a way to capture the catharsis of crying it all out to songs from the TFIOS* soundtrack. Or standing on the steps of the New York Public Library, watching the sun rise between the buildings lining fifth avenue and silently tearing up to Sara Bareilles's "Chasing the Sun."<br />
<br />
We read Tennyson's "In Memoriam"** in my British Lit. class, which gave me all the platonic love feelings (my favorite) <i>and</i> all the romantic love feelings...so many feelings. It's great. I just want to live my life knowing that I've felt as deeply as I can for as much as I can? That sounds like a dumb sentence, but whatever, it's true. I always have this nagging fear that I'm not doing enough to preserve This Moment; I think that's a common thing considering the popularity of Instagram and Twitter, etc. I can stress myself out so badly about the expectation I have that I end up getting FOMO even while participating. (Especially true of nights like New Years Eve that get built up so much that it's nearly impossible for the night's reality to live up -- that pressure is unbearable. I constantly have to remind myself to chill on the expectations.) That's ridiculous and counter-productive! I have to make that stop. It's the reason I have to force myself to <i>put the phone down</i> during a concert, even though my Snapchat instincts are on fire because if I'm not even briefly present in that moment I'll regret it. But of course, there's balance to be found in everything. As someone who's standing on the precipice of another year in the life (and someone who puts a lot of stock in that type of thing, other birthday-worshipers and NYE resolution-makers are with me on this), I have GOALS, man. I know no one really associates the word "balance" with the age 21, specifically...but I'll do my best.<br />
<br />
New Years is a time practically invented for reflection on the previous year and the rapid rate at which it flew by -- there's no way it went as quickly as every year has ever gone before. No way. So fast. Unbelievable. Similarly: I was such a different person a year ago! I have grown so much! So much has happened! Where has the time gone? Who will I be a year from now? Life is crazy! So on, so forth. All this reflection occurs simultaneously with an eye on the horizon and what the future could hold. This is why I love resolutions, they're how we take control and decide what we can do to make the most of this potential. I know that many resolution haters will roll their eyes and say that a day is just a day, you have the power to change at any time, stop waiting for arbitrary timelines and Live Your Best Life Today. Blah, blah, blah. Resolutions are FUN. Here are some of mine: (I filled an entire three pages of my journal with goals and hopes for how I'll grow in the next year, but I'll spare you.)<br />
<ul>
<li>Forgive myself</li>
<li>Drink more water</li>
<li>Give gifts</li>
<li>Watch my posture</li>
<li>Take creative projects seriously</li>
<li>Put myself "out there" as often as possible</li>
<li>Unabashedly live in Selfie City</li>
<li><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Nx-sH0kn6E" target="_blank">Make money, get turnt</a></li>
</ul>
Please share some of yours with me! I'm always on the hunt to steal the best resolutions.<br />
<br />
*Birdy's "Tee Shirt" when you want to cry, though. For REAL.<br />
**aka: "'tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all" (aka - the motto frickin yolo)CeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185798134634994821.post-61700464551384870042015-07-14T13:07:00.001-07:002015-07-14T13:19:39.444-07:00The Planned Parenthood GenerationAs the president of my college campus's Generation Action chapter, I and the rest of the exec. board (my lovely friends Michaela, Kayla, and Emily) were invited to Washington, D.C. for Planned Parenthood's Generation Action national youth conference.<br />
<br />
It was incredible and inspiring, empowering and enlightening, to be surrounded by over 400 activists and leaders who are all concerned with same issue -- reproductive justice -- and all the many, many facets related to such a complex issue. The conference spanned four days, with activities ranging from guest speakers (such as Sen. Elizabeth freaking Warren!!!!) to workshops (such as, "Beyond Choice: Reproductive Justice 101" and "The Importance of Public Policy and Advocacy: Advancing the Issues You Care About") to a day spent lobbying with each state's senators and representatives.<br />
<br />
Zoe Ridolfi-Starr, one of the co-creators of the Carry That Weight movement on the Columbia University campus, led a discussion on the issue of sexual assault on college campuses nationwide and how we can most effectively utilize social media in bringing about awareness and affecting change at a specific dinner centered on strategizing with peers. It was just so definitively cool to be able to talk with girls from all over the country on how our experiences differ along our fight for the same thing. I knew I'd come away from the conference with ideas, but I couldn't take notes fast enough as we exchanged stories about different events held and actions taken that we can share from campus to campus.<br />
<br />
It was sometime in my high school career that I first went to my local Planned Parenthood for a check up; my regular doctor isn't a gynecologist and I just felt like I needed some specific questions answered. I was struck by how pleasant the experience was over all, how friendly and helpful the staff was -- it was comfortable, from the waiting room to the check out desk, the entire facility felt accepting and reassuring. Every time I've ever visited a clinic has been a positive experience -- I've even had direct responses from the Planned Parenthood account on twitter <i>before</i> the social media importance push that now has every company with interns specifically dedicated to replying to all tweets, all day. This is a company that has always been there for me and to be encouraged by them as a young leader in my community means the world to me.<br />
<br />
The Generation Action conference invigorated me; there are students all over the country taking action in their lives and on their campuses and I can't wait to get to work alongside them. Our generation will make up 40% of the voting population in 2020 -- that is a lot of power. It means a great deal that Planned Parenthood has invested so much in supporting young people because we are the future and we can <i>get shit done</i>. Start conversation! Support your local women's health center! I've really realized the importance of making your voice heard, whether your deal is rallying on campus or lobbying state government. Speaking out makes a difference.CeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185798134634994821.post-76358776595568665382015-04-10T15:11:00.000-07:002015-04-10T15:11:05.945-07:00Imbalanced sea metaphors
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<div class="p1" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;">"Every day I discover more and more beautiful things. It’s enough to drive one mad. I have such a desire to do everything, my head is bursting with it."</span></div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="s1" style="background-color: white;">- Claude Monet </span></div>
<br />
I was once told by the internet that adults make a lot of lists and oh my god, is that true. I make hella lists. All I do is make lists. I feel like I have more pads of post-its than I do places to actually put those post-its. I write everything down; It's not even a matter of being organized, but rather I forget everything I don't write down. So, I write it all down, basically in as many places as I can. Listing and planning is an important part of the process of Getting Shit Done, as long as it doesn't take up all the time that could/should be spent on the actually doing of the shit that needs to be done. It's a hard balance to distinguish for me, because the planning process is the easiest and most cathartic part -- I'm not being judged or graded on my notes, so I don't feel outside pressure hindering my ability to think freely. However, it's also an activity I normally feel I can do while multitasking (there aren't many activities I feel I can't do while multitasking, whether that's accurate or not) which means I'm not <i>really</i> devoting my time to getting anything finitely done. If I'm not actually finishing anything, what am I accomplishing? I'm basically just wasting time, labeling my procrastination as "organizing my thoughts" or "creating a game plan." All good strategies to tackle projects, but not in the precious, dwindling time before it's due. Then all that's just nonsense and it's time to sit down and actually put some hard work into it.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibjYspMsKeVqYhMYTsJqfZJOh7U2xrGMi7MTLYKmIYJnR75wDhpjwBqyFtxJw6zZYFTDmyAr6JZd-pHrHefHsFnw6qjH_Asu2rZEcU5Z5BiiJfU7SjIig-E5DGV_uqSrDl-0lfRlKR4ic4/s1600/scales.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibjYspMsKeVqYhMYTsJqfZJOh7U2xrGMi7MTLYKmIYJnR75wDhpjwBqyFtxJw6zZYFTDmyAr6JZd-pHrHefHsFnw6qjH_Asu2rZEcU5Z5BiiJfU7SjIig-E5DGV_uqSrDl-0lfRlKR4ic4/s1600/scales.jpeg" height="257" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Imbalanced: the life of a terrible Libra</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I've always struggled with the balancing act of life. I want to have it all*, but also I want to nap. And watch The 100. And scroll through mindless hours of Tumblr. I've never been a math or science person, as much as my current Geology class has inspired interest in me, I'm not very skilled in either of those departments. But I read, and I can understand basic concepts, and that Newton character knew a thing or two. According to this handy-dandy <a href="http://teachertech.rice.edu/Participants/louviere/Newton/law1.html" target="_blank">teacher's site</a> from the turn of this century, Newton's first law states: "An object at rest will remain at rest...An object in motion continues in motion." Which is what a little tiny voice whispers inside my mind when I fall face-down into bed at three in the afternoon and whine into my pillow until I force myself to get back up again. For most of last year, what got me to class in the morning was the promise of returning to bed in the afternoon but that's not even a passable lie anymore. I've been forced to get up in the morning like a normal human being and accept my (over)scheduled fate.<br />
<br />
I'm pretty sure my best friend from high school once said, "It's not the size of the ship, but the motion in the ocean." Of course, we were giggling ninth graders and she was referencing something much different than I am, but whatever, same idea. I am a small human (or boat, for purposes of this metaphor) but it's what I do that makes a difference. Right? Sure, why not. Go with it. If Rachel Platten can write <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LVxon65u3tA" target="_blank">an entire song </a>around a similar idea, I can post a blog about it.**<br />
<br />
Also, it's The Great Gatsby's 90th birthday! Take my advice: if you've only ever read it for school, read it again. The popularity is not all hype; It is legitimately some kind of magical.<br />
<br />*<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiKnFx0K3RCgS8m13e84SBLBLOSR-j7X9yU4FIa_o49OjSHFENVlWxABA9UQXlaNAPk1qu1b1VEAkfZxDygq0LBd49LU2reTfaLPOsH_KuqSZCW3QS0RojM6jFWlRGMJrS1r0Nx6UFIDTk/s1600/liz+lemon.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiKnFx0K3RCgS8m13e84SBLBLOSR-j7X9yU4FIa_o49OjSHFENVlWxABA9UQXlaNAPk1qu1b1VEAkfZxDygq0LBd49LU2reTfaLPOsH_KuqSZCW3QS0RojM6jFWlRGMJrS1r0Nx6UFIDTk/s1600/liz+lemon.gif" height="152" width="320" /></a><br />
**The other day I actually met a guy in my English class who's favorite novel is Moby Dick. <i>Ok</i>. I wouldn't have believed him if his eyes didn't legitimately lit up when arguing that every single sea-related novel/movie/song basically owes it all to MD. Yay for sea-metaphors, I guess?CeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185798134634994821.post-77207258563519247252015-04-09T21:20:00.000-07:002015-04-09T21:33:33.276-07:00A Tornad-Ode to Dorm Life <div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;">"I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself."</span></div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"> -Maya Angelou</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
"Attention. A tornado warning has been issued -- seek shelter immediately."<br />
<br />
A disembodied voice reverberates across campus. The kid who pitches a tent and smokes hookah beneath the elevated walkway in bad weather packs up; a girl coming back from the gym darts, shoes in hand, through the swamp that was my hall's courtyard two days ago; the alarm announcing the impending tornadoes sounds straight out of Silent Hill, awakening me from my safe and peaceful cat nap.<br />
<br />
I love thunderstorms more than anything, especially ones that show up on an afternoon perfect for lounging near a window, protected by an empty schedule from facing the elements directly.<br />
<br />
Just a minute ago, I was in my bed and now I sit cozily perched in my friend's. That's what I'll miss about dorm life: the proximity of possibility. It's the never knowing what could happen because there's always people around, even a night-in has potential to produce anecdotes worthy of re-telling. A wedged-open door could bring anything when you live with a couple hundred almost-strangers. My home is a hallway away from my best friends' floor. Loneliness just isn't even a thing because I'm never alone for long. Which, on one hand, can be read with an inflection of exhaustion:<i> I'm never alone. </i>Because, yeah, I like my space. But also, there's comfort in the tradition of stumbling into the room with my roommate and falling into our respective beds. Being jerked awake by the barging entrance of someone from down the hall. Getting locked out of the suite-style shared bathroom.* I like people and being forced to live with so many inspires so much friendship that wouldn't spawn in any other environment. (It brought me my former-RA, current-BFFL, Erin, who I probably wouldn't have met otherwise. Eternally grateful to the dorm gods.) It's gross and weird and a germ's freaking wet dream, but it's a unique situation to this time in my life and that's cool. We bond because we have to, we're stuck together; We're all scared and tired and invested far more in television shows than our homework. I bet <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gbrbUfYSt0E" target="_blank">Zac Efron</a> has some choice words about this.<br />
<br />
It's been nice and I'll miss it. Much love, Res Housing.<br />
<br />
...But also obviously I'm excited to have my own room again, let's be real.<br />
<br />
<br />
*Yeah, no. I won't miss that at all. Even if it is relatively easy to jimmy it unlocked.CeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185798134634994821.post-6151945476848357922015-04-08T19:22:00.001-07:002015-04-09T21:29:55.211-07:00Kisses to my bad bitches <br />
<div class="p1" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;">"Raise ya hand if you don't have to diss people to feel better about yourself. Jealousy is a disease. It kills at a fast pace. Kisses to my bad bitches" </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">- Nicki Minaj </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
My life has been a haze of job and internship applications for a month and I'm exhausted and stressed and I've basically entirely lost track of where I'm at and what I want to do but...It's Wednesday night and I'm surrounded by friends and music and a raging, torrential monster the likes of which my tiny college town sees maybe once a year is wreaking havoc outside and it's beautiful and it's ok. I have no idea where I'll be this summer or what I'll be doing and I have absolutely no time left to figure it out but one way or another in two and a half weeks Summer will be here and I'll have no choice but to figure it out! That's equally comforting and terrifying. Life!<br />
<br />
I have a whole list of topics to cover this month but I've had a ridiculous day of being awake and constantly moving since 8:30 a.m. so i'm going to let this night go and give you basically nothing<br />
<br />
My friends are back announcing the night of Flood Fest 2k15.<br />
<br />
"Be careful, I know you're very careful," my friend storms in, shouting advice. Like, when? "Remember I told you to be careful on your way home?! And you WERE!? You've built that trust. Make good choices."<br />
<br />
Good advice for all.CeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185798134634994821.post-82695738270594085742015-04-07T18:01:00.000-07:002015-04-07T18:01:29.042-07:00Poetry<div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;">"The most wasted of all days is one without laughter."</span></div>
<div class="p1" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;">-- ee cummings</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
</div>
Live from Tuesday night at a coffee shop, it's poetry night! Also, it's <a href="http://www.poets.org/national-poetry-month/home" target="_blank">National Poetry Month</a>, so that's cool. <div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I've always had a strange relationship with poetry. It was middle school internet-exploration that initially sparked my interest in poems; <a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/175882" target="_blank">"To the Virgins"</a> caught my attention and stuck with me -- mostly because of *sex* but also because even then I was rolling my 8th grade eyes at the (weak) lengths horny men would go to in attempts to get some. It is beautifully written though, and basically the inspiration for modern classics such as this <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BYDKK95cpfM" target="_blank">Drake masterpiece.</a> I embarrassed myself in front of my high school freshman year english teacher I had a hopeless crush on during the poetry section of the year. (Oh, god, it was awful...But it was fun.) More recently, I've put myself on stage during open mic poetry nights and read work by other authors (I've read <a href="http://alonesomes.tumblr.com/post/66536342637/i-was-19-when-i-finally-stopped-opening-the-door" target="_blank">this</a> because it's held a spot on my desktop for over a year and yes I found it on Tumblr, but whatever, I like it a lot. It's very Gryffindor and I can get behind that), though I've never read one of my own because I definitely do not feel as close to writing poetry as I do to reading it.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I could read and analyze beautiful lines of poetic art endlessly, but writing it is <i>not</i> an area I feel comfortable in, yet. My phone is full of works in progress, my notebook margins are black with illegibly scribbled lines, even this blog holds private drafts of poems started up to three or four years ago. Sharing work is a crucial part of being a writer, but poetry feels different, ultimately far more personal and, because it can be so free form, I don't have an outline to follow -- which means my writing stands totally on its own, bare to judgement. Which is SCARY. (Criticism is not my jam. I'm working on it. It's a life long process, I'm sure.) </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The first time I came to poetry night here, it was almost religious. I ordered the legendary Honey and Lavender Latte for the first time, the room was practically standing room only, and a girl with enormous talent got up and read <a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poem/173476" target="_blank">The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock</a>, a poem that has always touched me ever since a boy I liked in high school mentioned it in passing and I looked it up to further get a sense of him and happened to find a part of myself there, too. Currently, sitting at a well-worn wooden table waiting for another wave of talented peers to take the stage in front of me, I'm writing this in lieu of finishing the massive final paper due tomorrow for my African American Lit class. This is all relevant, though, because <u>Third Girl from the Left</u> is about three generations of women and their relationships to art; one character, Tamara, specifically says at one point: "I thought about what pictures could do. What they could do if you weren't afraid." Replace "pictures" with "words" and wow! What an applicable contribution to this topic! </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Being afraid and doing it anyway, whatever it is, is hugely important. Art wields incredible power and the world is better for having more of it. I'm beyond grateful to have this time every week to celebrate artistic expression in an immediate and personal way; every night should be poetry night! Every month should be poetry month! It'd be crazy awesome if anyone that has taken the time to read this hot mess would take another extra minute share one of their favorite poems. Like, I'm begging you. I live for that stuff.</div>
CeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185798134634994821.post-34959756007236593792015-04-06T16:09:00.000-07:002015-04-06T16:09:23.335-07:00Compliments! <div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;">"It has to be about cheering each other on as women,"</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;">-Taylor Swift</span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As I've previously mentioned, I LOVE compliments -- both giving and receiving. They are my favorite thing. Compliments are a great way to build people up in small everyday ways as well as make yourself feel more comfortable with your own presence and appearance; a huge part of loving and accepting yourself is loving and accepting others. Plus, compliments are a super easy way to break an awkward silence -- no more silent elevator rides if you ask the girl beside you where she got her shoes/book bag/headband etc! The giving of compliments is the easiest because it doesn't take much thought or confidence and it can really mean a lot depending on the situation and depth of compliment. Something I've noticed recently, however, is how I'm changing in the way that I receive compliments. Specifically, from dudes. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's not that I'm necessarily sick of hearing "You have beautiful eyes!" Like, thank you, really. That's nice to hear, but also it's sort of lacking in creativity...I understand that every compliment can't be personal and deep but JEEZ, am I expected to swoon every time a guy notices my eyes are blue? It's just kind of a weak opener. It doesn't help that it generally feels insincere after so often hearing guys discussing their "move," their go-to tactic, and it starts with complimenting the eyes because girls are emotional and love that dumb romantic shit...As if telling me the specific hue of my eyes is bluest blue they've ever seen will instantly get me naked. Blegh. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's kind of a big deal to feel distant from boys' approval when for my entire adolescence I was socialized to desire that above everything else. Even as a 13-year-old, I knew I wanted attention from boys and a small part of me held onto the idea that having it would make me worthwhile. <i>Obviously,</i> boys knew what was worth wanting and what wasn't, I assumed, and so the deciding factor of my worth was their reception of me. I could vomit at the memory of childhood crushes and the way my pubescent mouth would justify catcalls as compliments to be grateful for before I learned the full weight of the term 'sexual harassment.'</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The resurgence of so much feminism in the public eye and the encouragement of love and support among women has been exponentially beneficial. It's the message that we can validate ourselves, an idea that I wish I'd been so widely exposed to a long time ago because it definitely would have rocked 14-year-old Cecilia's world. Even so, the process of loving myself has greatly improved my life, as it is. I think I can be simultaneously both genuinely pleased with compliments from guys while also detached from constantly seeking them out. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The fact that I basically don't even take compliments from boys seriously anymore is much more of a personal issue, I think. I probably shouldn't psychoanalyze myself too deeply and publicly on the internet, though; I'll save that for my diary. You can read all about it in my memoires. </div>
CeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185798134634994821.post-7904949257142513722015-04-05T20:00:00.000-07:002015-04-07T16:40:15.887-07:00Things I Love:<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;">"The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun." </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;">-Walt Whitman</span></div>
<br />
Loving is often much more important and worthwhile than hating, so in the shocking sequel to "Things I Hate," I've compiled a list of just a few select wonders that make life worth living in a world where tires go flat and salsa costs a million dollars.<br />
<br />
Things I Love:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>hot sauce</li>
<li>plastic containers of coffee</li>
<li>Kristen Stewart</li>
<li>nail polish of all colors and quality</li>
<li>my signed copy of The Casual Vacancy</li>
<li>The fact that the Stars Hollow set is also in PLL</li>
<li>Tacos, all shapes and sizes</li>
<li>Birthdays</li>
<li>the look dogs give when they're just absolutely exhausted with you</li>
<li>throw pillows and blankets</li>
<li>breakfast all day</li>
<li>packing</li>
<li>B-movies</li>
<li>free movies</li>
<li>pink and orange, together</li>
<li>The video that played on old VHS head cleaner tapes</li>
<li>the possum that was in my driveway one night that appeared very cute until it charged </li>
<li>COMPLIMENTS! </li>
</ul>
CeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185798134634994821.post-80462550124548811552015-04-04T17:30:00.000-07:002015-04-05T21:50:21.044-07:00Things I Hate:<div style="font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;">"It’s all about falling in love with yourself.”</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;">-Eartha Kitt</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span><br />
<div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Hating things is exhausting and often pointless, but I'm typing this on my phone and so is that. Plus, I think getting to know yourself is as fun a process as getting to know someone else -- good, bad, everything. We're all a lil self-centered because we <i>are</i> the center of our own little brain universes, so why not get in touch with yourself and figure out specifically what it is that makes you tick, right?! I'd give you a list of what makes me tick, but we're simply not that close yet, Blogger.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Here's a very superficial list of things I hate:</span></div>
<ul><div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<li><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">that I'm running on limited laptop power because I forgot my Mac charger at school (hence the newly downloaded blogger app I didn't know existed)</span></div>
</li>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<li><div style="text-align: left;">
IPAs </div>
</li>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<li><div style="text-align: left;">
dolls with blinking eyes</div>
</li>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<li><div style="text-align: left;">
the post-bad nap headache </div>
</li>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<li><div style="text-align: left;">
pot holes</div>
</li>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<li><div style="text-align: left;">
flat tires</div>
</li>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<li><div style="text-align: left;">
how expensive tires are </div>
</li>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<li><div style="text-align: left;">
emails from Spotify</div>
</li>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<li><div style="text-align: left;">
melty, gooey cheese that is impossible to pick off of pizza</div>
</li>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<li><div style="text-align: left;">
the fact that Keira Knightley wasn't in Pirates of the Carribean 4</div>
</li>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<li><div style="text-align: left;">
tiny scissors</div>
</li>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<li><div style="text-align: left;">
Fox news</div>
</li>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<li><div style="text-align: left;">
the fact that I don't have a bowl of salsa next to me at all times and it costs a butt load</div>
</li>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<li><div style="text-align: left;">
the feeling of having something to prove</div>
</li>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<li><div style="text-align: left;">
whoops got too serious on that last one bye</div>
</li>
</ul>
</div>
CeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185798134634994821.post-66854367964692579272015-04-03T09:17:00.000-07:002015-04-03T09:17:07.579-07:00A 5'2" Girl's Goal to Grow <div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;">"What you will be in five years depends on two things: the people you meet and the books you read." -Twyla Tharp</span></div>
<br />
The way we perceive time is weird. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
High school felt like a four year sentence that dragged on and on, a bubble I was stuck in with no end in sight until I <i>finally </i>was finished. College is the complete and total opposite. I'm at the half-way point, absolutely terrified because it feels like any minute now I'll be done and I'm not prepared. I'm all too conscious of the fact that there's so much that I should be doing that isn't sitting on my floor watching Disney Channel. There's actually SO MUCH to do ALL THE TIME it can be super overwhelming because no matter what, it feels like I'm not doing enough. My biggest fear is irreparably wasting this time in my life? Which is dumb; why am I spending my time worrying about how I'm spending my time? Wouldn't it be much healthier/less stressful to just...spend my time doing what I want to do? If only it was that simple.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Freshman year I basically did nothing of substance. I dipped my hand into a couple different clubs on campus, but nothing stuck. I enjoyed myself: movie nights with my suitemates, sleeping in my single whenever I felt like it, picnics on the green. But I wasn't productive. I didn't significantly expand my friend group beyond the people I lived with and I didn't develop my resume <i>at all</i>. Meeting people and growing into a professional adult is literally what college is for, so I began to recognize I was doing something wrong. Needless to say, I made some huge changes coming into my Sophomore year and I'm so happy with the results.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Not only am I actively involved in several organizations, I just became president of a super cool club that I'm extremely passionate about? (Generation Action/VOX -- we're advocates for Planned Parenthood, aka the condom queens of campus.) I've made countless new friends, genuinely kind hearted souls that I know will color the rest of my years here with fun and love. I'm developing habitual tendencies and exploring my school's community; I go to poetry night every Tuesday at a local coffee shop -- and I've actually read poetry there...Like, in front of people. For fun. It's different. There are hills to hike, trees to climb, an endless array of new food to eat. I came into 2015 with the goal to really grow as a person, to push myself beyond the average growth that changes everyone with time; new people, new ideas, new experiences. I have definitely dealt with a lot of <i>new </i>in just the past few months, so, yay! Exposure is key, right? Growth!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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I'm grateful to have this time in my life where I can broadly explore who I want to be -- I know that it requires certain levels of privilege to have that kind of opportunity. I haven't stopped running since Spring Break but I'm in a really good place, overall. Good days, bad days, I'm figuring it out and I'm really finding my place. </div>
CeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185798134634994821.post-15872922917187428332015-04-02T08:53:00.000-07:002015-04-02T20:14:58.955-07:00Spring-ing<h1 class="quoteText" style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px 0px 15px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;">
"It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.”</h1>
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― <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/239579.Charles_Dickens" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;">Charles Dickens</a>, <i><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/2612809" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;">Great Expectations</a></i></h1>
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As good as it got throughout March was teasingly pleasant summer in the sun with winter hanging in the wind and haunting from the shade. So, it was a positive sign for the first day of April to be the first really truly beautiful warm day of the season. Without even the chill of a breeze, it was the perfect Spring afternoon. My peers poured out in droves, sprinkling the greens with blankets and frisbees; My friends and I hula-hooped, slack-lined, picnic'd, hiked, and jumped rope -- in one afternoon? I've honestly never been as active as I have been since Spring Break. The weather is immaculate and this atmosphere is opportunity, both of which have made it nearly impossible to ignore the call of the wild for a nap or even a table beneath my dinner. </div>
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It's cliche to marvel at how incredible it is that only a month ago I was boot-deep in snow, because duh, the seasons change the same way, every year, get used to it. But time is weird and the way brains work is weird and I think it's beneficial to appreciate life's weirdness on the reg. </div>
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Thunder just alerted me to the torrential downpour that has broken the skies that were shining only an hour ago -- the flip side of spring weather (equally as fun as sunny days under the right conditions). I know the weather is typically a boring subject, the first go-to for chit chat among strangers and acquaintances alike, but this isn't <i>really</i> about the weather -- like everything isn't really about what everything's about on the surface. This is just a casual way of bringing up how really really really happy I am to be where I am. It's not that I forget how much I love my school, but it's easy to get distracted by daily stressors and, like everything: it isn't perfect. Even amidst all the hype, it's good to take note of what it is that does make this place special. (I think that's applicable to this town in particular, as well as the college atmosphere, in general.)</div>
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I'm happy where I am and I'm making it mine. </div>
CeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185798134634994821.post-74011595627569642642014-07-10T21:20:00.001-07:002014-07-21T16:30:08.853-07:00Review of Begin AgainAlso known as: Keira Knightley can SING, too?! She's actually the perfect human.<br />
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Keira Knightley plays Gretta, a songwriter with a british tomboy/Taylor Swift style living in New York with burgeoning rock star boyfriend, Dave (Adam Levine); she meets Dan (Mark Ruffalo) and embarks on a dream indie rock adventure, recording an entire album in the elements on the streets of New York. Hailee Steinfeld, who plays Ruffalo's teenage daughter, is incredible and I can't wait to see more of what she does in the future. James Corden plays the best friend who is comedic and warm and a perfect supporting character. This mixed group of artists, friends, family come together to harness the chaos of life and create something special. Life is just a journey of self-discovery for us all and, without spoilers, I love the ending. They did it perfectly.<br />
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If a movie draws an intense emotional response out of me, I know I love it. The entire experience of Begin Again, from beginning through the ups and downs to well beyond the end, was really happy. That seems like a stupid, simple way to describe it, but this movie had me absolutely brimming with happiness during and after. The way music and film can affect people is powerful.<br />
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Ruffalo's character comments in the film on how music can add meaning and depth to even the most mediocre moments, which is a really beautiful scene in the middle of a gorgeous film. We all know it's true--why were ear-buds the most important item to have on hand in high school for the time in between classes? Could you go to the gym without your iPod? A walk is calming and enjoyable, but can be arguably more pleasant when experienced with your own soundtrack. You get to be the music producer of your life. Those harmonious moments are what life is made of.<br />
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Previously titled "Can a Song Save Your Life?" with the tagline "You're only as strong as your next move" this is a story about feeling lost and how art and friendship can be vital support systems in moving forward. It's a love story to New York, friendship, love, art, to starting over and going back to begin all over again.<br />
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The music is available on iTunes and Spotify and I've already played through the album several times. Mainly written by Gregg Alexander, there are some jaw-dropping beautiful lines to be heard, especially in the lovely tones of Knightley and Levine.<br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CwLuDO_Cxfc&feature=kp" target="_blank">Watch the trailer here.</a>CeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185798134634994821.post-17025855601977119022014-07-03T14:06:00.001-07:002014-07-03T14:06:39.309-07:00Current Events with CeceA few days ago, June 30th, the Supreme Court ruled in favor of Hobby Lobby in the decision of whether or not they should have to provide healthcare coverage for contraceptives.<br />
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Sandra Fluke, an attorney running for California State Senate, and a woman who has been speaking out for access to birth control for years, posted an <a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/posteverything/wp/2014/06/30/sandra-fluke-the-hobby-lobby-case-is-an-attack-on-women/" target="_blank">article</a> detailing the ruling and its' further implications. Her article is a lot more articulate and accurate than any I could compile; if you're interested, check it out. What I'm going to be dealing with is the response to this article and the dangerously far-reaching opinion that "religious freedom" should be placed above individual's rights to healthcare and the total inaccuracies that go hand-in-hand with this view.<br />
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Nearly every tweet or comment in reply to Fluke that I read is in agreement with this idea:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Change is hopeless! Everyone, give up your convictions!</td></tr>
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Along with a copious amount of personal attacks:<br />
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While they don't deserve attention or response (a tweet won't change their personal ideology, unfortunately, something they should take note of) the only way any sort of change can be made on a macro scale is if a large public response occurs. Those with these sorts of views have made their voices exceptionally loud and that isn't getting us anywhere good. The only way to affect change is to speak out. I won't personally reply to rude comments online, but I have to say something. Attention must be drawn to this conversation. </div>
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It is already the law that employers must provide healthcare to their employees--whether or not they should is a different battle--the only argument relevant now is that these businesses with such strong "religious beliefs" are trying to find a way around having to fully comply with that law. Their opinion that some female birth control methods are "abortionaficants" is 100% scientifically and medically wrong. There is not a single fact to support the idea that the morning after pill does anything to a fertilized egg---in fact, there's proof that the pill does NOTHING to an egg that has been fertilized! Hence the title "morning after pill" it only works if you take it a certain amount of time post-unprotected-sex because all it does it merely guard against egg fertilization. It's not a difficult concept to understand. Seriously, Fox News, Hobby Lobby: does NO ONE know how to google?! <u>It is a preventative pill</u>--Not an abortion pill. I'll break it down for you, according to WedMD: </div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 19px;">Depending upon where you are in your cycle, </span><b style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 19px;">Plan B</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 19px;"> One-Step may </span><b style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 19px;">work</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 19px;"> in one of these ways: It may prevent or delay ovulation. It may interfere with fertilization of an egg. It is also possible that this type of emergency birth control prevents implantation of a fertilized egg in the uterus by altering its lining."</span></span></div>
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The idea that birth control affects any sort of fetus whatsoever has always been looming beneath the surface as a crazy, far-fetched, and terrifying opinion some have--but now it's having a direct effect on whether or not some women are able to get the healthcare they need. </div>
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Comedian and Writer, Shelby Faro makes good points:<br />
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Yet...No one at Hobby Lobby seems to be fussed about covering <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/06/30/hobby-lobby-viagra_n_5543916.html?utm_hp_ref=politics&ir=Politics" target="_blank">Erectile Dysfunction pills and Vasectomies.</a> Birth control is a prescription because it affects hormone balances and deals with a myriad of health issues. Viagra is the pill that directly works to make a man able to have sex---but female birth control is referred to as "slut pills"? I'm sure many people screaming "Pay for your own pills! I don't want to pay for you to have sex!" are both totally unaware of all the positive ways these hormonal pills help women's lives and are congruent with that opinion on whether or not Viagra should be covered. However, only one of these things is on the political chopping block right now and I can't see that as anything other than a direct attack on women.<br />
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In conclusion, Fluke posted a link to a <a href="http://m.dailykos.com/stories/1310701" target="_blank">petition</a> available to allow voices displeased with the court's decision to be heard.<br />
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Also, I recently got to meet Ms. Fluke when she spoke at my school (which is cool and important to me):<br />
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CeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185798134634994821.post-8640451857105823022014-07-01T10:37:00.002-07:002014-10-30T16:00:09.571-07:00How To: WORLD CUPI am not a sports person, but I do love hype. I watch the Super Bowl every year because, while I know NOTHING about football, who doesn't love an excuse to hang out with friends, eat a ton of food, and yell enthusiastically at a TV, while simultaneously sharing in that experience with most of the country? The World Cup is similar, but I do genuinely enjoy watching soccer when I do. I still know very little about it since I don't keep up with it regularly---though, arguably that's not entirely my fault; as the most popular sport everywhere in the world <i>except </i>America, it's not as easily accessible here. I can blame America's total disinterest in anything that isn't 100% inherently American. Also, my own laziness.<br />
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Basically, as a not-very-well-informed fan, this is how I've gathered you can properly Do The World Cup:<br />
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<li>Pick a team! Any team! Cheer for them with your entire body and soul!</li>
<li>Choosing to favor neither team is also an option which allows CHEERING FOR EVERYONE AND YOU'RE ALWAYS A WINNER </li>
<li>LOTS OF YELLING (best part) </li>
<li>Excited/nervous flailing when anyone gets near the goal post (is that what it's called? what it's called isn't important---how loud you yell is!!!!!)</li>
<li>Don't worry about necessarily understanding the rules behind all the fouls and the cards, just enjoy watching people trip each other--or specifically don't enjoy it: get angry and jump up and down YELLING AT YOUR LIVESTREAM </li>
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Following these guidelines will lead you down a path of blissfully ignorant World Cup-ing! Anyone who knows more than me: feel free to suggest more advice! And remember: Google is your friend.</div>
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...Especially for finding each team's hotties pre-match. Like Spain's beautiful, Sergio Ramos: </div>
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And Mexico's, Francisco Rodriguez:</div>
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Though, we won't see those faces and bods again this World Cup, America plays later today against Belgium and we have...well, we don't really have anyone. But Belgium has:</div>
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"> So, while cheering for the United States, at least you can still check out the competition. </span></div>
CeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-185798134634994821.post-38209139157863085842014-06-26T13:53:00.002-07:002014-06-26T13:53:47.645-07:00Thicke Headed (and Seriously Messed Up)Robin Thicke strikes again! His latest single "Get Her Back" is a sort of promising attack on his ex-wife that he wants her back, and he gets what he wants.*<br />
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<object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="https://ytimg.googleusercontent.com/vi/bz_EqawkmTg/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="https://youtube.googleapis.com/v/bz_EqawkmTg&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="https://youtube.googleapis.com/v/bz_EqawkmTg&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object>**</div>
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Love is about respect. If someone doesn't want to be with you, you have to respect that. It'd be a different story if this song were a lament about how he missed her and felt bad for how things happened etc. but this is clearly a plea to "Get Her Back"---of course, who would expect Robin Thicke (of all people) to have any respect for what a woman wants? Patton, and every other person on the planet, gets to decide who they do or do not want to be with, for themselves. Just because you want someone doesn't mean you should force yourself onto them. With an intimidating show of blood and violence, this video clearly demonstrates force.<br />
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When a relationship ends, I'd presume ESPECIALLY a marriage, the two people must grieve and process on their own in order to adjust and move forward. When one person refuses to leave the other person alone, that is not only disrespectful, it's abusive. It's called stalking and harassing. Not to mention that taking all of this private relationship drama and dragging it into the public eye is extremely manipulative. He's attempting to show the world how worthy he is of her (this actually has nothing to do with her) and make the world feel sorry for him---if the public sympathizes with him (because look at how "vulnerable" he is! He's so genuine! This album--totally created and controlled by him--truly give me a look into what kind of person he is and how his relationship was!!!!) then why shouldn't she?! Now he's turned her into a monster that broke his heart and refuses to accept his sincerest apologies. Which is bullshit.<br />
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There is nothing sweet or romantic about threatening: "This is only the beginning." She's obvioulsy made it clear that "It's too soon" and she's done because he "ruined everything" but he just won't leave her alone. Because he wants her back and what he wants is what's really important.<br />
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As usual, it bears repeating that this "artist" is 100% in control of what he says/does/releases and he gets to choose how he comes across within his music. Just because he wants to appear vulnerable and genuine doesn't mean he's actual making himself vulnerable. Unless making himself vulnerable to being on the receiving end of a restraining order counts. Thicke is not the first musician to take this route regarding his pursuit of a lover and, unfortunately, I'm sure he won't be the last. That doesn't make it ok and I say we, as a society, refuse to accept this pathetic romanticized stalking into our hearts or our music charts.<br />
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*just typing that made me feel slimy, very <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kk9nsHir4xQ" target="_blank">reminiscent of</a><br />
**<a href="http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/robinthicke/getherback.html" target="_blank">lyrics</a> if you'd rather not watch for whatever reason, one being the fact that watching contributes to views which contributes to him/his ego/his bank account/his perceived popularity etc. but i did watch and it was gross and disturbing the entire time so I basically wish I hadn'tCeliaAnnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16638259526410266364noreply@blogger.com0