Too Simple a Measurement

While I stopped talking much about economics long before my class this summer, the book I'm reading has a compelling point I feel the need to write down.

I think it explains why I've had such an adverse reaction to this class. I hate that all we do is measured in terms of money.

The GDP as a measure of progress emerged during an era when natural resources still seemed unlimited and "quality of life" meant high economic standards of living. But if prosperity is judged only by increased economic activity, then car accidents, hospital visits, illnesses (such as cancer), and toxic spills are all signs of prosperity. Loss of resources, cultural depletion, negative social and environmental effects, reduction of quality of life--these ills can all be taking place, an entire region can be in decline, yet they are negated by a simplistic economic figure that says economic life is good. Countries all over the world are trying to boost their level of economic activity so they, too, can grab a share of the "progress" that measurements like the GDP propound. But in the race for economic progress, social activity, ecological impact, cultural activity, and long-term effects can be overlooked.
- Cradle to Cradle

Bee and A-Mae

Came to visit. I love them. Many, many thoughts to write down but no time.

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

This song seemed appropriate when it came on my iTunes shuffle this evening. If anything, this summer has caused me to question the decisions I’ve made about my future rather than reaffirmed them.

I'm grateful, if not a little irritated that the hyper-analytic side of my personality is making a comeback. (Specifically, I am recalling these three weeks in high school where I cut off nearly all means of communication. AIM, Myspace--gone. I even canceled my magazine subscriptions to further eradicate superficiality from my life.) I can tell this sort of situation is going to be a cyclical aspect of my life.

Anyway, I relate so much to Elton John's words, wishing that I could go back to a simpler time before I became an "illustrious" D.C. intern, before I sought a life outside of my hometown, before I even thought about college or a future beyond playtime.

I'm no longer certain of what I am trying to attain, to prove, to achieve.

When our program began our economics class last week, I became immediately infuriated with my professor for repeating the phrase "greedy, greedy, greedy" whenever speaking about the human race. I'm angry because he's right. More so, I am angry at myself for being a part of the system--trying to climb the ladder of success, giving in to superficial desires (such as shopping), protecting myself from appearing vulnerable.

By no means am I complaining about my life, at least not intentionally. I just wonder why I continue to chase after opportunities for wealth and glory when I would be happier just to be a homebody, though where home is, I am not certain.

I know people think I'm lazy for not working diligently at my classes here, or even some classes I've taken back at school. In fact, I think I am increasingly being perceived as a lazy person in general. If only you'd known me in high school. Now that I look back at how unhappy I was in pursuit of what I considered a greater happiness--college--I regret not taking the time to enjoy that moment rather than the promise of a "better" future moment.

I feel bombarded by these conflicting messages: always do your best, yet do what you love. I cannot seem to reconcile one with the other, because doing my best at something I hate seems counter intuitive, not to mention wasteful. By focusing more on the latter, I receive criticism for not doing the former. But I suppose living up to my own expectations is all that matters.

I quite simply do not know what I want, not that any of us do. I love the culture and the excitement of D.C., but it's the small places where I feel most comfortable (And that goes beyond knowing I don't have to clutch my purse when walking through N.C. towns). I love cooking, but it's an activity I want to share with those closest to me, not a career opportunity. I love writing, but there's that nagging voice telling me I cannot ever do it on my terms.

Thus, I am questioning everything. My major, my study abroad choice, my decision to be in college, even my friendships. It's so hard to do, yet infinitely easier than losing any more time on what I don't want. At least I know that.

So goodbye yellow brick road
Where the dogs of society howl
You can't plant me in your penthouse
I'm going back to my plough

Back to the howling old owl in the woods
Hunting the horny back toad
Oh I've finally decided my future lies
Beyond the yellow brick road

Metaphorically, of course. I haven't operated a plough in my entire life.

The Real WALL-E

I NEED one. He just melts my heart.

Floatin'

Today (or, rather, yesterday at this point), I was at the mall getting the last of my "necessary" D.C. outfits.

As I was leaving, a man stopped me.

"Excuse me--you are beautiful."

Well, my initial instinct was to avoid eye contact and walk swiftly in the other direction, but he said it with such sincerity. No ulterior motives, and then he just walked away.

I know it's silly to place so much importance on words, though as a writer it's my natural inclination.

Still, I've spent the rest of the day floating.

A Bug's Life, ended

As my foot hesitatingly descended on a bug crawling around the bakery floor yesterday, I swear I saw its little life flash before my eyes. The bug's hopes and dreams, its innumerable children growing from eggs to larvae to adults, the rewarding one night stands resulting in its continued gene expression...

Thanks to a combination of bug personification in all those beloved Disney/Pixar movies and my brief stint as a Buddhist, I am generally incapable of killing anything other than mosquitoes (they attack first, after all).

For one thing, I just know I am causing years (or months, or weeks) of devastation to the creature's family. At least that's what happens in A Bug's Life, and I can't bear considering the ramifications of such a heartless homicide. Like, how will he/she save his/her entire colony and live out his/her full heroic potential if I cut his/her life even shorter?

For another, from a reincarnation perspective I am undoubtedly harming my chances of experiencing my next life as a cat. And I really need the sleep.

Embracing a "new" cultural phenomenon, or not

While millions of miscreant teenagers across the country are wrapping their arms around one another in a bold move commonly referred to as a "hug," I am still trying to wrap my head around the preposterous amount of media coverage regarding the latest trend in expressing affection.

Clearly, this story came about as an attempt to make reading the news a little more lighthearted. You know, hugs not drugs, hugs not powerful nuclear weapons being developed by our country's enemies, hugs not thousands of people dying everyday from HIV/AIDS. Yay hugs! What an excellent distraction!

Enter irony. With all the violence the media bombards us with everyday, the most nonviolent of acts is being challenged. Watching poverty-stricken illegal aliens being deported is an action I accept as a necessary evil, but I'll be damned if I ever have to watch two middle school-aged girls publicly hug.

Seeing hugs labeled as a trend is absurd enough. Seeing hugs banned from schools is a travesty. In these times, in any times, it's so important to have the support of friends as well as of family. Hugs are just tangible evidence of love--you know, the Bill Withers' "Lean on Me" mentality. I don't remember hearing about anyone having freak-out attacks about the form of human contact addressed in that song. Leaning leads to hugging, undoubtedly.

Perhaps we could first identify the purpose of school: for students to gain the knowledge that will transform them into thoughtful, informed adults. The purpose of a hug, obviously, is to express positive feelings, to provide comfort. Is that expression not part of creating thoughtful adults? I happen to believe that hugging, that affection in general, is crucial in our development as humans. And I can cite endless experiments to back me up.

So I have to wonder as this topic gains prevalence, are we moving so fast that we'll never have time to stop and embrace? Or are we regressing back to the Puritan era? Well, either way, go ahead and condemn me as a Hugger with a capital "H." I'll proudly bear the scarlet letter. (That unnecessary "H" in my name is my pride and joy, after all.)

Memories of a Past May

I continue to be highly amused by my old Xanga posts. This one's from the last Tuesday in May, 2005. I was a sophomore in high school. And the sophomore-in-high-school version of me amuses the sophomore-in-college version of me to no end. Part of my reason for blogging is definitely for posterity's sake, but I often forget how nice it is just to look back. (And laugh, as the case often is.)

Summer is here at last. And it feels damn good.

I'll be the first one to admit that I am one of those banal people that absolutely adores this season. Sure, I'm a Yankee at heart, but I have never been a fan of cold weather. Anything below 50 degrees is just a little too chilly for me. My body temperature is always lower than it's supposed to be, so there's no need for my surrounding environment to exacerbate that sense. (Unless I happen to be somewhere gorgeous but cold. Then I'm willing to compromise.)

Plus, I love the feeling of soaking up some good old UV rays and letting the sun's heat permeate into my bones. Sure, tanning is incredibly unhealthy, but we all have our bad habits. That one has just matured into an addiction. Of course, it's only fun in the company of friends. Otherwise I get bored within 30 minutes. So thank goodness for fellow sun-revelers.

Naturally, the best thing about summer is the lack of school. Try to withhold your shock, because I know many people assume I enjoy school, if only because I do well in it. But you know what they say about assuming. At least school ended well this year. As if it ever hasn't. Endings, in this case, are warmly welcomed. Exams were easy except for Spanish 2, but I expected that. It's not like it made much difference anyway, since most people, including me, had over a 100 in that class.

Now I'm ready to face my report card. And yes I'll be seeing the same predictable letter grade I always see, but I'm in need of some decent final exam grades too. They help determine your class rank, and I need to be ranked 25th or lower so I can be a Junior Marshall. This all sounds so mediocre to most of you, but it's a necessity for me. My success in school will determine if I ever get out of A-hell. Not that it's that bad, but this whole area is suburbia, and I can't see myself spending my entire life here.

On that note, I must go and live my provincial, yet thus far adequate, life.

Lordy, I was such an overachiever. Okay, still am. But in a much healthier way, in my opinion. I choose the areas in which I overachieve, at the very least. And I am considerably less stressed-out. And I will never, ever care about getting straight A's again.

Hating suburbia, on the other hand? Well, some things never change.

In Memory

I won't lie; I generally consider Memorial Day to be a bonus day added to my weekend, rather than a holiday designed to honor our nation's military. Usually, I'm just about as grateful for the day off as I am for their services.

And, to be honest, I treated this one like all the rest. I lounged around, played Solitaire, and made progress on my epically-long room cleaning extravaganza.

Then I read this article. Thoughtfully composed and beautifully written, this piece about fallen soldiers caused me to stop and think about those who have risked (and lost) their lives so I could complete the banal task of artfully arranging my food studies books.

So thank you. I mean it. I hope to someday defend your rights as you have defended mine. (Though not with a gun, because we all know that would not turn out well.)

The LeaderShape Institute: Review

All better! Well, actually, I've managed to replace one affliction with another, trading an emotional breakdown for pink eye...

I feel relieved nonetheless. I have all these lovely pictures through which to peruse, and I'm realizing that getting off the plane to Raleigh was by no means an end, though the usually well-suppressed pessimist in me was screaming otherwise. Despite spending an entire week repeating the phrase "healthy disregard for the impossible," I had promptly discarded all that I learned.

Although the name of the program implies that one will be shaped into a leader by attending, I think I had that part under control from years of being an older sister and an overachiever extraordinaire. What I took from LeaderShape reinforced my hope in people. Remember how my first year of college did that for me? Well, I love being reminded.


Thus, I'm feeling way better about life. I can see my vision falling into place with tangible (and edible) results. I can also see myself 20 years from now still talking (and arguing) with fellow LeaderShapers.

The LeaderShape Institute: Recovery

I can't believe that this time last week, I was packing for Illinois, and now I'm back already. To be quite honest, I am utterly depressed. You know that feeling when you recognize that one of the best moments of your life has passed? Perhaps not. I get them from time to time, and I swear they suck all the happiness out of me. I think Audrey Hepburn's character Holly Golightly accurately described them as the "mean reds" in Breakfast at Tiffany's.

In any case, it's not the week that caused the mean reds. It's the aftermath. I want my life to always feel the way it did in that small town outside of Champaign. Instead, I'll spend the next three weeks working two jobs and preparing for D.C. I know this summer is going to change my life (it already has), but the waiting hurts.

I am physically and emotionally exhausted right now.

I'll post "The LeaderShape Institute: Review" when I'm feeling a little better.

In like a lion, as promised

March has really pulled through on fulfilling that old weather adage, "In like a lion, out like a lamb."

Well, actually, so far we've only got the former confirmed. But warm weather absolutely must arrive ASAP. Try as I might to summon up spring-and-summer feelings with bright clothes and optimism, my enthusiasm is fading fast. I need the real deal, real soon!

It rained all weekend, then gradually got colder, then culminated in an overnight snow flurry that covered campus Monday morning.

In my mind, the only purpose snow really serves is to get residents of the South out of unfavorable obligations. In this case, classes and work. But in typical Carolina tradition, everything operated on a normal schedule beginning at 10 a.m. Which is conveniently the time of my first class.

I would happily stay a second semester sophomore for quite awhile. Can that opportunity please, please come packaged with sunshine?

Two-Two

I always thought that Karen from The Baby-sitters' Little Sisters series was rather irritating, though I still read and reread those books like nobody's business. Of course, now I realize that she is a visually impaired, bossy know-it-all who has a hard time using her "indoor voice," so I can't easily hate a character who is clearly my literary counterpart.

And lately I've been thinking a lot about those books again, though I'm sure the author had no intention of facilitating any profound thoughts for a girl three times the age of her average audience. But in the book, Karen refers to herself as a two-two since she has two different homes as a result of divorce.

Well, feeling like a two-two is about the most apt description I can come up with to explain my current mindset.

My house in Cary is home. You know, with two cats in the yard and life having been hard at some point I can no longer recall. (See: Our House) It's chock-full of memories and delicious food that I didn't have to make. But home is also my teeny-tiny dorm room in Chapel Hill, with one short roommate and the hard work that must be endured by all college students. (Ahem.)

I love coming back to see my family. But somehow, it's like the new, abridged version of my bedroom serves as a palpable reminder that I've outgrown that home. And the old things I used to do still feel old. Outdated. Yet Chapel Hill is too new, my life here too transient to attach myself permanently to the place. Thus, I remain a two-two.

If home is where the heart is, mine must be lying somewhere on I-40, unable to commit to a permanent pumping grounds.

November Synopsis

Because I don't have time for an in-depth post, here are the highlights of my life this November. It always proves to be an exciting month.

• Obama was elected
• I turned 20 and thus became a mature adult
• He called me and wished me a happy birthday, a message I promptly deleted
  
• I went on a retreat and made best friends
• Three Asians (Chinese, specifically) came home with me for Thanksgiving
• I was accepted into the Institute for Political Journalism, Summer 2009
• I am going to D.C. in 6 months!
  

There's Something about the South

Okay, fine. I'm ready to make a confession after oh, approximately 10 years of denial.

I like the South. I might even love it. And I don't resent my parents for moving us below the Mason-Dixon line.

In fact, I think the decision was an excellent one.

Between my trip to New Orleans and the one I took to Memphis this summer, I have come to realize my great appreciation for southern culture, and perhaps even acknowledged the existence of southern hospitality. (Isn't it funny how going somewhere else is often the only way to know where you are?)

Whether on Beale Street or Bourbon Street, there's no denying an identity unique to the South. I know that those iconic streets don't have the most wholesome reputations, but they remain unapologetic. They are what they are. Even northerners can relate to that.

And the cities themselves are a delicious combination of sensory experiences. There is more than just bright lights and traffic. The food, the music, the people... I've learned that little of it is greasy, whiny and podunk, as I'd previously perceived.

This new perception comes at an interesting period of my life. I've decided that throughout my undoubtedly privileged life, what I have always lacked has been a sense of culture.

Christmas and the occasional deli order of liverwurst. That is essentially the summation of my religious upbringing and understanding of my German heritage. That's fine. I went to the Greek festivals, to Chinatown, to several thousand Italian restaurants thus far. I know I have cultural options if I seek them out, but I feel like I'm lacking the birthright.

I'm probably being silly, because I was lucky to grow up eating out of the American Melting Pot. Sometimes I just wish my spoon knew where to rest its head at night.

The South could be that place for me. I'm not going to live on fried chicken or (ever) listen to country music, but I could definitely return here, upon spending a few years gaining a worldly perspective and whatnot. There's certainly a lure in metropolises where warmth is locally grown.

Maybe there's just something in the water of the Mississippi.

No More Singing the Bus Ride Blues

Yesterday, as I sat on the bus, headed for the chiropractor, I heard two older women discussing the many afflictions with which they were plagued. Actually, now that I think about it, I would have had plenty of complaints to contribute to the conversation, already, at my age. Mostly courtesy of my spine.

Anyway, one woman had just had her gallbladder removed. (If anybody knows the purpose of that particular organ, please let me know.) She also just underwent hip surgery. The other had just endured a particularly nasty ant attack while in the garden, which reminded the first woman that she'd recently been bitten up by chiggers while lying in bed. Who even knew those still existed?

Their conversation did it for me. Those women officially secured my complete and utter adoration for riding the bus.

There's something so rewarding about taking public transportation. It's giving your seat (to one of those old ladies) just because it's polite. It's reading the tattoo of the rider next to you and wondering what compels him to "write," as spelled out on his arm. It's overhearing a seemingly taboo conversation between two strangers.

I find reassurance in the activity. Sure, the interaction is forced, in some regard. We all have places to go and people to see. People, presumably, other than those on the bus. But for that brief time, I feel so at ease with the knowledge that we're all people, and we're all in this together. (Accidental Ben Lee reference. Good song though.)

In this digital age, I fear we are beginning to forget. Twitter and Facebook status updates keep us linked, but remotely. Can much of an emotional reaction be summoned by 10 words on the screen written by that guy you used to know and don't remember how but the relationship must be important because, after all, you're Facebook friends? But then, what if he was right next to you on the bus?

If the opportunity arose, I would still rather have my car on campus. It's convenient. It's quiet. But I'm also glad I don't have that luxury. I still enjoy being packed into a dangerously crowded bus. Technology makes it easy to hate people, just as it simplifies everything else, but learning people's medical histories on the bus endears me to them once again.

A Big Mountain & The Big Easy

Today I am exactly one month from going to New Orleans.

Let's hear it for alternative fall break trips!

As well as trips in general. I went to Montreat this weekend for a leadership retreat and it was glorious. I love the beach immensely, but I always forget how nice the mountains are, what with their significantly lower temperatures and legitimate hills.

The peak of the weekend was climbing a mountain on Saturday. How punny.

But more on that later. I have reading to do!

In the name of posterity & nostalgia and all things amusing

Today it occurred to me that even if I don't have time to actually post a substantial entry, I should always try to write something. Looking back on my Xanga Archives from 2004-06, I realized the importance of documenting life, from the mundane to the momentous. Experiences I thought would be in my memory forever have escaped me, and I'm left treasuring these sporadic Xanga posts from high school as my only documentation of those four years. (Granted, they weren't the highlight of my first 19 years, but living one's greatest legacy in high school would be tragic indeed.) Despite my often petty remarks, I won't even pretend that I wasn't talented. And those intensely coded layouts I created... What happened to that Web-savvy girl?!

From now on, I am going to try sincerely to update weekly. Writing is and has always been my creative outlet. (Thanks mom, for transcribing my earliest works!) So, as this entry title suggests, I'm going to take this time to look back. Here's me, 4 years & 2 days ago on a Monday just like this one, except as a sophomore in high school:

"Oh yeah. Another exciting Monday over and done with.

Just got back from the Key Club meeting. God I feel like such a loser saying that. Seriously, I wish I didn't have to be a well-rounded person and join all these clubs just to get into college. If they knew me, they'd love me, clubs or not.

So today. Oh-so fun.

Civics and Economics- Took a quiz, aced it. This class is a joke for the most part. We just learn about Mr. Huff's life. Today we found out how he got out of his many tickets for speeding, etc. Of course I remember the stories but I don't remember of the stuff we "learned." He knows that though, which is good. He really doesn't care. Thank goodness I have this class first thing in the morning!

Geometry- I sat there bored for most of the period. I should probably pay more attention, but whatever. I'm doing okay so far. I'll start to listen when I start doing bad in there. At least I have Katherine in there, she makes the class 9,873,458 times better.

English- Went to the library again today and worked on our Finding Nemo project. It ain't gonna be good, that's for sure. I mean, we definitely worked for the whole period but it was realllly hard to get it all done. Who knows if our skit will even meet the 3.5 minute mark. Oh well. It's a minor grade?

Spanish- Um. We studied the pledge. I'm thinking of memorizing it by tomorrow so I can get extra credit and be an over-achiever. Somehow I don't think this language gets easier, so I'll probably being needing the extra credit at some point.

And that's it? Basically today was a waste of time. I'll be the first one to admit that I like learning new things, but not like this. I hate waking up early, I hate doing hours of homework, and I hate having to sit for like 6 hours a day.

But on a lighter note, my life is going well :-) I won't complain too much, I mean, I know I just did, but everything's going by really fast. And I think this whole year will go by fast. (With luck!)

Hope everyone's doing well. Just remember that you create your own happiness. So if you don't have any, go make some.

Try not to take that in the cheesy advice column sort of way!

I'm gonna start writing my "Slackers' Way to Success" Book soon... so be on the lookout for it on the New York Time's Bestseller List. Yeah. Nice idea Katherine!"

Upon re-reading that, I've determined that perhaps I'm not so different after all. Except, of course, I would never, ever, say, "I'm doing bad" regarding anything. I don't "do bad," but if I had to do something similar, I would "do poorly" instead. I still, however, go into manic panic about my future, though instead of getting into college, now it's all about getting a job.

I do enjoy the perspective I've gained from this little nostalgic activity. I worried about classes then, I'm worried about classes now. Why do I create that stress for myself? My time and energy would be far better suited for other pursuits. I need to stop being such a worry wart. I also need to stop wishing that time would move more quickly because, if anything, I've learned that the only time we have is now. I guess that can be my goal for the semester, in addition to completing assignments two days before they're due. How's that for an unattainable goal?

And, okay, I will take some advice from my past self. I can create happiness in every moment of my life if I so choose. While I'll always need a reason to be upset or angry, I never need a reason to be happy. The power of the blog will not allow me to forget this epiphany, a service that is definitely necessary. Otherwise all of my nails will be bitten away by this time next week.

Time is in my side

...that is, until school begins again and time continues at this rapid pace. Then I'd prefer Father Time to put every day in slow motion so I will be able to sit back and bask in contentment. I just can't believe that a few posts ago, I was lamenting the two months I had left of summer. And now I'll be back in two weeks!

Fortunately, now that I'm done with my babysitting job, I have a bit more free time. Thus, I have been researching/starting craft projects like a woman who just discovered she had arms. I already made a vase out of old magazines and am currently seeking a sturdy ceramic piece to make a lamp base. I'm pretty excited about testing out my wiring abilities. (My mom, on the other hand, has her doubts.)

I absolutely cannot wait to move into our dorm room and decorate. I've been hoarding interior design ideas like it's my job (and sometimes I do it instead of my job, whoops.) There are so many great blogs I've added to my RSS feed, I'm overwhelmed. In fact, I believe I'll go look at them now...

Seeking Unnecessary Employment

I'm not sure of the exact moment that I became addicted to applying for and accepting jobs. It must have been around the same time that I realized that I have expensive dreams.

How does one even combat such an addiction? All I need is computer access and I can be gone for hours, lost in the digital world of endless opportunities. I hesitate to compare my problem to the one men seem to have in regards to porn, but the similarities are there. They fantasize about unrealistic sexual situations and I fantasize about worldly travels and big city living.

I suppose my fantasies may be slightly more attainable. Right?

And it's about more than just money. I crave the experience that goes along with a job-- particularly an exciting one. Plus, the money I earn allows me to add even more experiences to my memory bank through vacations and spontaneous trips with friends. Those moments define ones life far more than most jobs could.

My fears also drive me. The current job market and my dad's tumultuous job history simply make me nervous. I figure that if I can became a Jack-of-most-trades, I'll also always be armed with a back-up plan or two.

So right now, I have four(ish) jobs. I work every day of the week. Just like any addict, I'm not leading the healthiest lifestyle, but I can't seem to stop the endless pattern of working, sleeping and eating. Repeat. As opposed to a drug or sex addict, however, I'm living for the future rather than in the present.

This summer, while definitely exacerbating my desire to return to school, has taught me a valuable lesson. The effort I'm putting into planning the rest of my life will ensure that I never, ever have to work four jobs again. That is both an observation and a promise to myself.

I will always work to live, not live to work.

So if anyone out there in Cyberland is seeking a writer/blogger/babysitter/baker/customer service representative/intern, I'm sorry, but I'm not available.

Until August.