Sister Club

   My sisters and I are best friends. They are 14 and 16, but it has always felt like we are all the same age. We help one another out in our own ways, and our very diverse personalities mesh into what I think is a flawless blend. We have a bond that I deem unique as opposed to many other siblings. We are so cohesive and loving and it seems like when one of us is absent or not feeling herself, the other two suffer. It's an enigma how we thrive on one another's company, but I love it more than anything in the world.

   When we were younger, my sisters and I used to have the "sister club," an all-exclusive clique in which all members must be blood-related female siblings. We thought we were the coolest thing to have ever happened in the neighborhood. We hand-made flags, created "spy kits" and wrote several full-length dramatic pieces that we forced our parents to silently appreciate from assigned seats on the couch. We often times got so lost in our own little world that five, six, seven hours of creative play would go by before our parents called us up to take breaks for lunch and dinner.

   We had conjured up dozens of completely original "games" with full story lines and a complex cast list and often would fight our parents to stay up late playing in our fictional fantasy. The sister club had sleepovers, movie nights, and "trade shows" in which we swapped candy for erasers or earrings for stuffed animals. We had [and still have] an inseparable bond. 

  The "sister club" remains strong and vital, even in our high school years. We often go out to dinner, get manicures, or just sit around and laugh at embarrassing videos of ourselves until we can hardly breathe. This past weekend, we made a "sister bucket list" of adventures we want to undertake before I leave for college this fall. 

   Thinking about leaving my sisters next year makes my heart yearn for our younger days of endless Barbie games and "bug hunting" in the backyard. I feel sick to my stomach when I imagine the thousands of miles that will separate our overtired giggles and nightly school outfit consultations, but I know we will remain close when the time comes for me to move out. 

   Currently, my mom and her siblings are having a really hard time communicating and getting along with one another. They barely have phone conversations and rarely see one another. It makes me feel so fortunate to have siblings I can call my best friends. I truly am the luckiest.

xxx

here are [quite a few] photos of my sisters and I. we have thousands upon thousands, but these were the most accessible/least publicly humiliating (trust me, I have blackmail beyond belief!)

a newfound love

I have been involved in theater all 4 years of high school. I have never had a lead role, never had a group of theater friends, and every post-show dinner had been spent at a little table with a few acquaintances. I never fully understood why people called the cast their "theater family' because I never established such a passionate love for those with which I shared the stage.
In the show I am currently in, Zombie Prom, the cast is unlike any other. There is no drama. No one is rude or self-righteous. We all share a common bond in that we put on this show in record-breaking time. We stand as one. I honestly have never felt so strongly [in the most positive way] about a school play.
And tonight, my opinion has only been elevated to a new height.
I was sitting in a local diner at a table full of people I have become so close to this year. I was laughing until my voice went hoarse. I had never felt such a sense of love for people of all ages, genders, and personalities. Sitting in the middle of that long table was something I never got to do when our theater company used to be so divided and cliquey. Tonight, I surrounded myself with the witty, adorable, talented people I love and I have never felt happier. It was bliss.
I often wish I had met this year's cast sooner because it feels like just as I am getting ready to graduate, these amazing people come into my life. I, however, would not have it any other way. The short time we have left together will be sweeter, the laughs more hearty, and the sense of love more powerful. This cast is my family and when this show is over, I am confident I will keep my close relationship with them. If not, I might just go mad with theater withdrawal. 

my a[musing] lifestyle

   In my English class, we are learning the Romantics period, the time in which everything changed from ways of living to industry to literature to art. In this period, some of the most influential and talented writers came to be. 

   During this time, poetry was no longer inspired by divine muses or specific topics. Poetry covered everything. Poets drew inspiration from common instances in the world around them. They inspired themselves. This philosophy really resonated with me. Inspire yourself. Become your own muse.

    I have recently tried living in this mentality, and I have to say, I have become such a happier person. At the gym, I run faster and longer because it makes me feel good, not because 6-pack-Sally is staring me down from across the elliptical row. My yoga practice has deepened from a simple form of exercise to a truly meditative device in which my stress is lifted and my soul is revived. My style has changed from imitations of what I find on fashion blogs to anything that feels "me" that day. My diary entries are less superficial and I have stopped caring what others think entirely. It's a fearless feeling that has taken me years to develop.  

   I decided that taking a break from the exhausting quest to find my "inspiration" has lead me to the muse that inspires me the most: myself. 
xxx

Stuck

Do you ever feel like you are stuck in a rut? 
Recently, I've felt like I've been stuck in the deepest, muddiest, stickiest rut one can imagine. 
   I wake up every morning with next to no motivation to go to school. I feel too misanthropic for my own good. It often seems like the majority of the people in my school have opinions on feminism that clash with mine, even though I strongly stand my moral ground. So sometimes I speak out.
   When I do, I feel like I often come across as defensive, condescending, or "too outspoken." It's times like these where I feel like Public Enemy for having my own opinions, for defending things I truly care about. I know I shouldn't feel that way, but one of my biggest fears is burning bridges with people I genuinely like. When those friends of mine hold views that I see as wrong, it makes me upset and the cycle starts over.
   I don't know what to do about my problem. Do I sit down, shut up, and let everyone else carry on with their misogynistic, close-minded ways? Or do I speak up and defend myself, taking the backlash with a grain of salt?              
   It seems that either course of action I take, I'm left crying myself to sleep, questioning my self-worth, wondering if this was how the greatest activists in history felt in their teenage years. I dread going to school to face insulting and sexist attitudes. I dream of a day where I won't have to be the odd one out for believing in true equality. I try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, but when my peers' actions and words make me question the morality of my generation, I feel stuck again. Stuck in a big 'ol rut. 
xxx

If you ever feel the same way or want to talk to me about feminism [or want to talk to me about anything at all] feel free to contact me. I thrive on discussion and education and I totally want to start some sort of virtual "club" about gender equality. Let me know if you are interested or if you just want to talk in general. 
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A disgrace to modern man

I rarely ever have intense emotional responses to anything I read on the Internet. Yet here I sit in bed, sobbing alone while a very ironic Beyonce song plays in the background. I am crying because I just came across the most horrific thing I have ever seen on the Internet. There is a website called Return of Kings which is essentially the bane of my existence. It serves as a "safe place for men who don't agree with where Western culture is headed." It has to be the most terrible thing I have ever seen. It degrades women, desensitizes men, and absolutely causes humanity to go back a few steps. It's impossible to describe in my own words, so here are a few screenshots. 

this contact information requires that one deem a feminist "ugly" in order to send an email. 

#6 of 10 in the article "10 Reasons not to Rape"

This was the point where I started crying.

Teaching young boys that showing their emotions is the "wrong" way to be a man

These are all full-length stories. 

After reading this, I immediately went to write this blog. Freedom of speech being denied to women and homosexuals? This is 2014.  I am beyond sickened. 

The ROK belief system is disgusting and makes me squirm. I seriously would read this and try not to punch a wall. 

 I don't really know how to end this blog. I urge you all to email these disgusting men and tell them what you think. Share my blog post. Share the website. Get this piece of trash off the Internet. 
xxx

The Harand Complex

   As I grow older and [hopefully] wiser, I have started to become aware of a certain cycle I like to call the "Harand complex." Harand is the summer camp I went to from age 8 to 17 and the place I liked to call home. At Harand, I really transformed from a naive little girl into the well-informed young adult I am today. At Harand, there were a handful of people who truly changed my life, and I would love to go in depth about each one. However, time is limited and your attention span is fleeting so I am going to focus on two who revealed to me the truth in the "Harand complex."
   When I was 11 years old, I had a counselor named Cyd who was artistic, mature, intelligent, and downright hilarious. I was always a little bit wise beyond my years, and having a counselor who recognized that was a huge perk. She saw in me things I hadn't seen in my 11-year-old self. I kept in contact with her summer after summer, even though she never returned back to Harand. In my more recent years as a junior counselor, I tried to pass on to my campers the same respect and esteem she held for me as a young girl. 
When I got accepted to Boston University, Cyd reached out to me on Facebook, informing me that she, too, was a Boston Terrier and was still residing in the city post-graduation. She told me to Skype her when I was available. 
   Last night, we finally found a time to talk in between my insane school schedule and her very busy adult life. We didn't just "catch up." We talked for three hours covering everything from camp gossip to academia to Boston to life. She gave me fantastic advice about school, BU, and life itself. She is very successful doing what she loves, but she told me she never would have gotten where she is if she didn't step outside her comfort zone. One quote that really stuck with me was when she told me "you never want to get too comfortable because then you never stop pushing." It seems like no matter how many years go by, my camp counselors never stop their stream of insight from entering my life. 
   After meditating on her advice and reflecting on the impact I had on my campers, I stumbled upon the Instagram account of one camper in particular. 11-year-old Ruthie was everything I wished I was at that age. Her bio reads "charming, charismatic, smart 5th grade intellectual if I do say so myself." She posted pictures tonight of the State of the Union address and refers to herself as a "gay marriage supporter and feminist extraordinaire." She's 11, people. I hope that the wisdom and trust I received from Cyd contributed to Ruthie's fabulousness. I hope that Ruthie eventually inspires another little girl to share three generations of love, intellect, and respect. That's what I like to call the "Harand Complex." 

Ruthie and I, looking classy in white lace at the Harand Banquet.

The Glass Ceiling

After recently viewing Miss Representation (I highly recommend), reading feminist news sites, and discussing controversial topics with teachers and friends, I am more motivated than ever to be a successful woman in the workplace and to work my way up to an influential position in media. 

My choice to delve into the toxic realm of journalistic media as a career is both terrifying and exciting. It's terrifying in the sense that media today has taken a turn for the cheap, appealing to a disgusting demographic of young, horny men because "sex sells." It's terrifying to see "news" stations that feature Robin Thicke's rapey performance with Miley Cyrus as a headlining story when globally, young girls like Malala Yousafzai are taking bullets in order to advocate the importance of education. Investigative journalism is becoming increasingly harder to find on big corporation networks. It's scary to enter a world of media that is dominated by older white men who continue to hold backward judgements about successful women in the workplace and continue to cover superficial stories, ignoring the more important news. 

But I'm not scared. 

As a future journalist, I believe that my generation has the power to not only help change the role of women in the media, but to change the media's representation of "perfect" so future generations' role models will no longer have impossibly skinny limbs, Photo shopped-flawless skin, fluorescent white teeth and tanned, melanoma-ridden skin. So little girls won't be scared to ask for Hot Wheels for their birthdays and little boys won't be taught to hide their emotions. I want people to know who they are before the media tells them who they should be.

I can go on for hours about the indecencies and terrible examples set by the media, but I must not digress. 

Journalism, like any area of prominence, needs more successful women to balance out the bylines and create a sense of equality. There needs to be more than 26% female staffers on the New York Times. There must be more success stories about female editors than instances of sexual harassment in the newsroom. 

I aspire to work myself into a high position so I can write about topics that will open minds and inspire more women to become successful politicians, doctors, and other male-dominated professional positions.

I want to break the glass ceiling that has been set for women. I want to change things. And that is exactly what I am going to do. 

Hello, 2014

2013. This past year, I drifted from some of my best friends, reconnected with old friends, and formed an inseperable bond with the girls I consider to be my closest friends. It was also a year of firsts. First music festival [Lollapalooza], first college acceptance [Boston University], first job, first summer home from camp, first byline in the local paper, first steps into adulthood. With this transition, I took on some pretty hefty responsibilities. Being an editor-in-chief, flying alone to visit colleges, getting a boyfriend, keeping up my GPA; it's been a tough go, but I feel like 2013  was also a year of balance. I learned how to make myself happy doing the things I love while also putting 100% into what is really important. I delved into good literature and learned how to read critically and write concisely. I became educated in feminism, which has become a huge part of my existence. I made great friends with a teacher who has changed my life in the best way possible. 2013 had many sleepless nights and tears and coffee and frustrated pounding on the computer keyboard, but now my future is bright. 2014 has never looked better. 2014 holds graduation and the print of my yearbook and college and new opportunities and a career in journalism. Hello, 2014. You look so bright. 

xxx

some 2013 highlights-

In June, I went to Indianapolis with my best friends .

In July, I went to a one week journalism workshop where I developed my yearbook and met my boyfriend and bonded with my fellow staff members. 

In August, my sister turned 16 and she had a party and invited my best friends before they left for college. 

In August, I went to Lollapalooza for three days with Emma and had the time of my life.

In September, I met Maneet and we bonded over fashion and NBC sitcoms

In October, I visited Anna in Boston and fell in love with everything about the city.

In November, I went back to Boston for a journalism convention, where I roomed with these swaggies and made three new best friends. 

In December, Tavi Gevinson, editor of Rookie, signed my book and danced to Hilary Duff with about 100 other crazy teenage girls.

In December, Nick and I both got into our dream schools. 

peace out, 2013

Be You

   First off, I want to apologize for not writing for a while. I have been incredibly stressed and anxious about school and college and everything the future holds for me. The application essays pervade my dreams nightmares, the finals packets are piling up, and on top of it all, we are transitioning into a new school. To put it clearly, my thoughts have not been cohesive recently. 
Until today.
Everything that I have been working so tirelessly toward has come to this point: my acceptance into Boston University. Four years of sleepless nights, stressful panics, early morning study sessions, after-school practice tests, SAT and ACT rounds- it all boiled down to today.
I hate being proud and I hate showing self-righteousness but I have to say that I am pleased with myself. I no longer have to self-deprecate around others who have higher GPAs or more AP classes. I am no longer being compared to anyone else because I got accepted into my dream school, which is more than I could ask for. The pressure's off. I feel weightless.
Of course, I will continue to do my best in school because A) They can revoke my acceptance and B) I value public education and I truly love going to school [or at least the classes I enjoy.] Preparing to enter a work environment like BU is something that gives me more the reason to kick ass the rest of the semester and annihilate these upcoming final exams. 
I just love life right now. I am beyond ecstatic. Also, I've been online shopping for BU apparel, which is a little over the top. I need to study for finals. 
xxx