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

Boston, my love

The last few days have been emotionally taxing for me, so I have turned to blogging as a release/source of happiness. In order to boost my spirits and give me the spark I need to finish this week on roughly 20 hours of sleep, I have decided to write about two of my favorite things: The city of Boston and journalism. 

Last weekend, I, along with 24 other Publications staff members, went to Boston for the annual National High School Press Association Convention. Here's the highlights of my trip to Beantown:

• Wednesday- I slept in until we left for the trip, since my Grandpa's Shiva [Jewish mourning service] was the night before and I just could not get myself out of bed. My spirits were immediately lifted when we got to the airport and I was surrounded by people who were as excited about Boston as I was. We crashed really hard in the super fluffy hotel beds on the first night, since we were so exhausted from traveling. The beds were actually not queen size, but full so my friend Jill and I repeatedly hit one another in the face. It was hilarious/painful. 
• Thursday- We woke up relatively early to go meet our Freedom Trail tour guide in Boston Common, the oldest public park. His legal name was Jeremiah Poope and he was SO funny. I can't even begin to describe the stories he told. Definitely worth the cold, 90 minute walk around the city. We saw Paul Revere's grave, learned about Mother Goose's origin, visited John Hancock's memorial [his body was stolen twice, so it is not buried in the cemetery with the other founding fathers], saw Samuel Adams' grave, went inside the Omni-Parker House [serves the original Boston Cream pie recipe, housed Stephen King when he stayed in room 1408, and is the primary place for Boston's guest celebrities], and stood on the corner where the Boston Massacre broke out. After Poope's tour, we all followed him on Twitter [@tourguidepoop] and parted separate ways. Some kids went on a tour of Fenway while others shopped in the Quincy Market area [myself included in the latter]. Later that night, we headed over the convention center to register for our write-off events. I met with a Herff Jones representative concerning this year's yearbook. Her positive criticism/praise gave me a whole lot of faith that I really needed. We later went to the first keynote speaker, Juliette Kayyem, a Democratic candidate running for governor of Massachusetts. She talked about the importance of writing, being a smart woman, and how to report effectively. She was inspiring and sweet and very personable for being such a huge public figure. After her speech, I met up with Anna, one of my best friends who attends Boston University [the one I stayed with only a few weeks ago]. We met for a 25 minute coffee date. It was brief but so worth it. My friends and I stayed up super late that night, talking about life and journalism. 
• Friday- I attended a writing session about making readers laugh through true humor, taught by Kathy Craghead, a hilarious, seasoned journalism adviser. I later attend the second keynote speaker, Raney Aronson, a producer for Frontline as well as a super inspiring feminist figure. She was all about "going for it," which is appropriate, since she randomly decided to go to Southeast Asia to do some reporting during college. Raised by parents who sheltered her from any and all news in her tiny Vermont town, she was starved for media and she made a life out of it. That night, I met up with Emily Theis, who was definitely the highlight of my trip. I met Emily when she taught a very basic design class at Ball State J-Day last spring. She dropped out of college this year to fill in for a designer on maternity leave at the Boston Globe. Her spontaneity and passion is admirable. We ate spicy Thai food at a tiny little restaurant in Back Bay and talked about life, journalism, college, people, and vegetarian diets. She spoke about not being too hard on oneself, treating oneself like a human before a designer, and following ones dream even if that dream is something one knows very little about. She changed my views on the stressful Hell that is senior year of high school. She bought me dinner, so I bought her chocolate at Max Brenner [heaven on Earth]. I found myself in this strangely elated creative mental state after that night. She's such a great role model. 
• Saturday- After a couple super idea-sparking design sessions, we headed to Newbury Street to shop and such and we ended the day with a huge group dinner at Cheers [the restaurant in which the television show was shot]. My friend consumed one and a half full bottles of ketchup with her order of fries. I had such a warm feeling being with everyone, even though our adviser was hotel room-bound with strep throat. 
• Sunday- All great trips must come to an end, but this end was not ideal. We left at 9 am for our flight, which left at 10:45. We were supposed to land at O'Hare at around 1, but after circling the airport for 40 minutes, the runways closed due to weather and we made an emergency landing in Cleveland. Where waited. For 3 hours. We flew back to Chicago at 5:30, when we landed about 2 hours later. Because of the heavy traffic on the runway, we had to wait on the plane for an additional hour and a half. It was painful. The tweets coming from my staff were absolutely hilarious [I've never laughed harder] but eventually went from funny to desperate. We arrived home almost 10 hours after we were supposed to, and it seemed like everyone except me ditched school the next day.

I apologize for the extremely long post, so here's a visual break for you, reader. You deserve it. 

xxx

famous cemetary where many founding fathers and authors were buried

Mike's Pastry, my true Boston love 

Me and Jill in the Italian Village

Our hotel view

#swag

keynote speaker gave me fun stuff to doodle about

so did Kathy Craghead

my little swaggies [roomates] at the convention dance 

Max Brenner chocolate box from my night out with Emily

$5 ice cream from the convention center

The Boston Marathon finish line where the bombs went off in April.
The memorial there was very touching.
Almost spooky.

no caption needed

cookie truck aka diet buster

cheers at Cheers! We got 10th place in the nation for our yearbook and 9th for our website!

imagine 24 kids from Indiana on a subway. Multiply the stress by 10.  Now you should have an accurate picture. 

give the locals some loving

As I head into my ninth month as a server at Tyler’s Tender Railroad Restaurant, I have begun to appreciate the quality of service that comes with a local business.
Tyler’s Tender is the cleanest, most well-kept restaurant I have ever stepped foot in, and, like many local businesses, has owners who truly care about the happiness of their customers and the quality of their service.
Similar businesses enforce a strong sense of community and keep dollars in the local economy, a breath of fresh air in the heavily franchised area Northwest Indiana has become.
Paul and Emily Petrie, owners of Tyler’s Tender, are two outstanding examples of everything hardworking business owners advocate. By spending the past several months working for them, I have come to understand the trials and tribulations of maintaining a local restaurant while learning to appreciate the love and dedication that goes into owning a family business like Tyler’s Tender.
Emily and Paul’s experience in a major fast food company drew them toward buying a franchise, but to Paul Petrie “it was counterintuitive to pay money to someone else for my work in the form of franchise fees, so we decided we were going to do our own thing.”
Inspired by their children’s love for trains and their appreciation for fine dining, Emily and Paul went forth to create a restaurant atmosphere that appeals to families like their own. The Petries wanted a place in which children could enjoy themselves while the parents could, too, have a positive dining experience.
“We tried to meld really good quality food for the adults and a really fun environment for the kids,” Paul Petrie said.
This beginning idea has fruitfully progressed into the restaurant that is now in its seventh year of business. Successful small businesses are vital to the success of the economy, meeting local needs by spotting a gap in the market and taking the risk to fill it.
Local businesses also develop personal relationships with regular customers, as I have grown to learn from the families that come into Tyler’s Tender week after week. The sense of familiarity is vital to generating the tight-knit community many towns strive to create.
Above all, local businesses need local support. Without it, they have no foundation to build off of. So as a local business enthusiast [and employee] I urge those in the community to step outside your franchised realm and try the bakery your neighbor opened or that little restaurant that has always appeared interesting to you.
Small businesses, unlike the franchises that engulf our scope, offer services that are from the heart.
“I think you are going to be far more passionate about, and put much more heart into, something that you own yourself,” Petrie said.

xxx