This Year

This Skin

Kindness to this skin I live in has been an overarching thought this year. I’ve drifted beyond the question of popping the whitehead or not (spoiler alert: I usually pop it), and asked deeper questions: are the words I am saying sinking deeper beneath this skin? am I the best version of myself with the skin-covered beings that surrounds me? Am I hydrated? (if so, what by?) Could I have gone to bed three hours earlier last night?

How many milligrams of caffeine have I had today? Do I realistically have the stamina or the recovery time needed to pull an all-nighter? Am I reflecting on areas of possible growth without dwelling on my shortcoming?

Am I truly living in the present, or am I living in spite of my past?

I had an anxiety attack on Christmas that left me in a limbo of crying and shaking for hours. I don’t understand my body sometimes, but anxiety is an unpaved freeway I am still learning to negotiate. It’s okay to cry, to have a reaction to everything around you. It’s okay for the holidays to not be as joyous as the media has depicted them in holiday classics.

Kindness to this skin looks like mapping my anxiety and possible areas of crisis. Setting an alarm for when I need to get ready for bed, planning out meals, hydration, assignments, and giving time for the weather, the attractions, the friends, the foes along the way. (There’s really nothing like a text from your ex the night before a major term paper is due, which you just started.) I’ve learned that third year feels a lot like driving at night, in the heavy rain; knowing your destination but never knowing the roads that will lead there.

This Voice

Still with me? (This is a question more for me than you, honestly.)

I’m learning to be more intentional with my vocabulary, but with that comes a lighter tread in my voice sometimes. I have grown more conscious of the space that my voice takes up in certain spaces (white privilege, male privilege, settler privilege, socio-economic status based privilege, able-bodied privilege et cetera.) I am on a continuing learning journey of when to hold my tongue; when my voice does more harm to the conversation than good.

With that I find a certain passiveness has formed within myself, where it has now become easier to not say anything at all in most situations where perhaps I really should participate. The result: I am somewhat resentful at myself for what has become my overarching silence.

This voice struggles to articulate thoughts, metaphors, creativity. I think a lot of it stems from a pattern of self-deprecation as a certain style of writing that I ascribed to for a while (see: “How to Be a Hot Mess”). While satisfying and easy to play off as a sort of satire, I find that this particular path became a sort of manifest destiny above anything else.

Ultimately, I am my worst critic in all of this and I think the fear of judgment, of saying the wrong thing, of not reaching anyone and feeling alienated scares me as a writer, and living in that zone finds me producing nothing.

This Year

This year found me starting a relationship with myself: my health, my body, my pain, my tendencies, my wrongdoings. It’s a hard shell to crack, and the majority of the time I didn’t like what I saw within. For so long I had focused on the exterior; how I came off, how well I was liked/admired/respected, what my wardrobe choices said about me, what my resting face said about me, if I was pleasing to prospective romantic conquests. The interior is a whole other galaxy of planets, comets, meteors, lifeforms. It is the grey inside of a Lucky Charms rainbow marshmallow that I am learning to paint vivid colours this year.

Third Year: A Complicated Love Story

I’m struggling to write this. This is my first blog post in ten months.

I’m taking four courses, all in various areas of my major: Gender, Race, Sexuality and Social Justice (GRSJ). I never thought that would be my major when I arrived here, but there is no other department that has impacted me on a deeper level.

It is not a happy major, though, because the majority of my time is spent reading about various inequalities of the world: sexism, racism, homophobia, transphobia, xenophobia, ableism, nationalism, classism, et cetera.

I’ll see a movie now and point out the various points of wrongdoing throughout it, and I will very much be a “feminist killjoy”. It goes well beyond movies, though, most western media is a complete mess. (take for instance the media coverage of Paris, over that of the 147 killed at Garissa University in Kenya back in April — where was the Facebook filter for that? the tumblr logo changed? the YouTube homepage standing with Garissa?)

I’m struggling to write this. This is my first blog post in ten months.

I tried to blog about entering therapy over the Summer for my anxiety/depression/eating habits, but I thought it sounded too pretentious so I stopped. Therapy doesn’t work for a lot of people, and I’m very fortunate to have had a positive experience and to have the privilege to be able to get help.

I did try to write something during Thrive week, but I found it a little forced-sounded, so again I stopped.

I had a panic attack that lasted four hours this summer, and for me panic attacks feel like someone unexpectedly pulled my chair out from under me (that falling feeling on repeat). Needless to say I was not feeling very “Cool for the Summer” (I feel like that reference was really late to the party, but I’m in third year and I don’t have time to party.)

I have for many summers also neglected to eat regular meals. (One summer I would go on some cheerios and a kombucha for the day). So, eating disorder is perhaps a better way of filing this one, but I’m still in denial over it. My body is not represented in media, so I tried to look like what was around me for years.

I’m struggling to write this. This is my first blog post in ten months.

I’m trying not to censor myself, but it’s really difficult. Am I writing this right? Am I a writer yet?

I bought my first collection of poems called Prelude to Bruise by Saeed Jones about a year ago, and I really recommend it.

Can I tell you a secret? I applied to the BFA Creative Writing Program back in March, and I was rejected in May. It hurt a lot, as much as I tell myself it didn’t. Rejection was never part of “the plan”, and as much as I may exude a carefree energy, I am very much one for planning. The whole process was really invalidating as a writer.

I don’t know if I am doing this writing business properly. I am not published in enough places, and sometimes I freak out about that because what if I get rejected again? (Plot twist: I am applying again in March.)

I know someone who does a lot of slam poetry now, and I question if that’s what I should be doing. Isn’t that what writers do? I am not as good as the others. (picture me in a lapdog pool, versus them in a wave pool.) This self-sabotage must be part of being a writer?

I’m struggling to write this. This is my first blog post in ten months.

I’m struggling to write my research proposal that’s due tomorrow. I haven’t had to write one of those in two years, and I do feel rather out of my element.

There’s also a coupon for All Bran bars on my cabinet. (I forgot that when I went grocery shopping.)

Sometimes Academia is really scary and I don’t know if I’m cut out for this world. I have six papers left to write this term. Third year is a complicated love story of me and an institution, a major, a BFA application, my body, the jingle of “shouldn’t-i-have-applied-for-co-op?”, exchange, scholarships, should-i-be-considering-grad-school?, did I eat enough water soluble fibre today?

Third year is a not a rom-com, not a teen drama, does not carry the witty banter of an indie comedy, does not have time for the back and forth of a psychological thriller. Sometimes we don’t sleep in the same bed, sometimes I get mad about the duct tape on the walls, or the laundry comes out too wet and three hours pass in the dryer.

I’m struggling to write this. This is my first blog post in ten months.

But sometimes the coffee is strong enough, and there’s enough sunlight in the day, and the leaves on the tree outside my window are so gold I feel like I live on top of a podium.

We are young and naïve still (third-year and I). We love to say “I love you” as much as “I hate you”, and we don’t cherish the people around us enough, but we are slowly learning this complicated cohabitation. I promise we’ll be better roommates soon.

Wait For Life

Hola frienditos. Let’s get some late night nachos or something, ya dig.

It’s a new term. It’s a new year. Not a whole lot has changed, but perhaps I didn’t really need some radical change in my life unless I was like running a marathon or something. (which I am not) (shoutout to that one time I did the SunRun and like pushed it to every social media network.) (seriously, banana stuffed french toast > training for a marathon)

(The Twisted Fork has this dish I have described above if you’re now craving it like I am.)

—

I feel like just recapping my 24 hours, like a snapchat would. let’s do it:

Food:

(last night)
– some gummies, some more gummies, fuzzy peaches, those really big sour keys that unlock the depths of my bitter heart (jk I’m not that bitter)
– a bag of Brookstone Pomegranate chocolate little river rock things. seriously they are small like river rocks. mmm
– some stream water
– I’m totally kidding, it was tap water
– seriously, did anyone see Wild. She can’t get water at one point, and it was a scary time in the movie #oscarcampaignforReese

(today)

– do I have time for coffee? nonono, I’m going to be late for meeting my prof
– this is the part where I would have a really sad photo with no coffee
– I eventually got coffee at like 12:30
– also an almond croissant
– for a moment I spelled almond like this: almold
– this is turning into a really raw, vulnerable blog post where I bring all of my insecurities to the top
– Thai tomato soup
– a sandwich with some roast beef, jalapeño havarti and banana peppers
– my working title for this blog post was banana pepper
– I totally lied it was just banana
– seriously I am getting so vulnerable right now, like I am the ocean and you can see right through me
– banana
– I seriously had a banana
– cinnamon toast crunch
– yeah, okay, sometimes I relive the childhood of sugary cereal that I never had whatever it’s my life (it’s now or never)
– candy, mmm

Sküle

(last night)
– CRWR 301A:
– weow i’m so good at le poetry
– no but really I should’ve packed food

(today)
– GRSJ 224C:
– wow what a long article
– really, wow
– oh
– oh
– that’s what he meant
– re: I didn’t have time for coffee

CRWR 205:
– omg I am so good at le creative nonfiction
– wow prezi is so much better than powerpoint
– you know what’s cute,
-this almond croissant-

TV:

– American Freak Show
-well, American Horror Story (colon) Freak Show
-seriously, don’t/even/bother finishing the season
-control+alt+delete

– Mindy Projéct
– the accent is for fun
– they went to Paris
– jk they went to San Fran
– San France
– now the accent makes sense
– au revoir

– Girls
– Hannah is also in Paris
– she eats a lot of croissants
– we have a lot in common
– i’m kidding she’s in Iowa
– …
– … Iowa
– I’m sure the potatoes are sublime, though.
– wait
– wait
– that’s totally Idaho

– Shameless
– it’s summer in Illinois
– woo South Side
– Gentrification
– Starbucks Jokes
– Starbucks Lovers
– Taylor Swift “Blank Space”
– baby mama drama
– with the show, not Taylor

Music:

– Wait for Life – Emile Haynie ft. Lana Del Rey
– yeah, I titled the blog post after this
– shocker, right?

– Heart Beats Slow – Angus & Julia Stone
– I kind of forgot about them for a bit
– I missed them

– Roscoe – Midlake
– I heard it in a thrift store this one time
– yeah, cool it’s from like 2003 it’s basically vintage

– Lilies – Bat for Lashes
– We don’t really know where this came from
– I discovered her back in 2010
– then got curious
– curiosity killed the cat
– but satisfaction brought it back

– Hey Yo – Brooke Hogan ft. Colby O’Donis
– remember Brooke Knows Best Brooke Hogan
– remember the guy on “Just Dance” with Lady Gaga
– they made a song together!

Misc.

– I’m using a perrier bottle as a water bottle
– is this pretentious or thrifty?
– I haven’t quite decided yet

“Finals, Man…”

‘Twas the night before a final, and I was kinda freaking out, kinda wanting to go binge-watch Homeland.

You see, Carrie Mathison gets something about finals. She gets the attitude I have towards the profs that push me to this point:

If only I could call them. If only.

—

Basically, here’s how the pre-final experience goes:

10:30AM: wake up, and roll over.

10:31AM: nick nack paddy wack, give a dog a SOCIAL SECURITY CHEQUE BECAUSE THE DOG CAN’T AFFORD A BONE ANYMORE what

10:32AM: i’m gonna go na-nights again.

—

11:30AM: hello world.

11:31AM: it is raining and I don’t appreciate this.

11:32AM: I should probably eat.

11:33AM: I should probably study.

11:34AM: I should probably get a haircut and call my mom.

11:45AM: OH I’M SORRY WERE YOU EXPECTING PROGRESS? HAHAHAHAHA SO WAS I.

—

12:00PM: Do I have any bananas left?

12:02PM: I do not.

12:05PM: [search through friends list and see who would bring me a banana if I paid them in smiles and mediocre hugs]

12:05PM: I am also out of cookie butter and this is really, really tragic for everyone (read: me, myself, and I).

12:10PM: what’s [insert a type of affection] got to do with it?

—

12:11PM: Homeland.

12:13PM: buffering.

12:15PM: hi. still buffering.

12:17PM: I feel like I should’ve been offered some sort of valet parking service for the amount of buffering going on here.

12:19PM: WHY UBC INTERNET>asdfjkl;

12:25PM: I ate a whole Toblerone last night and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

12:35PM: I’ve watched a 1/4 of the episode and the rest is still buffering

12:40PM: Discover High School USA!

12:41PM: This show really isn’t that funny, but here I am.

12:51PM: Wow, the episodes are only ten minutes long.

1:01PM: It really doesn’t get any better.

1:05PM: guyz, Homeland (kind of) loaded

1:06PM: Is anyone else craving a loaded baked potato right now or is that just me?

1:07PM: It is just me.

—

1:58PM: I finished Homeland. I feel like, really productive.

2:05PM: I’m really hungry and I should probably go eat.

2:06PM: Do you ever just count the holes on your wall and wonder how they got there?

2:06PM and-a-half: Do you think they happened during finals season?

2:07PM: Do you think penguins get lonely?

2:30PM: acquire food.

2:32PM: inhale food.

2:33PM: food mini coma

2:35PM: should I get a happy planet?

2:36PM: WILL I BE HAPPIER ON THIS PLANET IF I-

2:36PM TTASTE WAS GOOD.

“Ate my dog, taste was good!”

2:38PM: Wow, I really should be getting more exercise.

2:40PM: What is exercise without the proper gear?

2:41PM: answer: an interpretative dance of the badly dressed

3:01PM: it is raining and I regret this decision. seriously.

3:45PM: I’m at Wreck Beach staring into the ocean.

3:47PM: [whispers into ocean] tell me the secret to my exam tomorrow

3:55PM: The ocean didn’t respond and I am feeling so attacked.

3:57PM: THERE IS A DOGE. IT IS RUNNING WITH ITS OWNER WOW.

4:15PM: I do hate stairs. I hate this.

4:29PM: SHOWER

5:00PM: I’m feeling sexy and free like glitter is raining of me.

5:14PM: DINNER

5:45PM: guyz, i called my mom finally.

6:03PM: I have arrived at the land of studies.

6:07PM: where do I sit.

6:10PM: seriously. where did all of these people come from????

6:20PM: I am back where I started and I need you all to know that this is not what I expected, I mean who are all these people, who do they think they are just paying tuition and using the library. NOT OKAY.

—

7:15PM: Oh, I didn’t see you there. Why, yes, I’ve been studying and not researching Lindsay Lohan’s most recent antics. (she’s recording with her sister Ali and Duran Duran.)

7:17PM: Based on these comments, people are not super pleased with Duran Duran for this move.

7:25PM: You are really interrupting me, and I was studying so nicely.

7:35PM: OH MY GAWSH. A FWRIEND? I DIDN’T KNOW I HAD ANY LEFT.

7:40PM: and then I was all NO WAY.

7:45PM: and then she was all YES WAY.

7:50PM: basically I wish we were brushing each other’s hair at this point. That would be comforting before finals.

—

8:30PM: I AM SO GOOD AT FLASH CARDS.

10:03PM: I want the record to show that some guy literally just asked me where the best place to poop was in Irving.

10:03PM and-a-half: is this a social experiment? am I being punk’d? Where is 2005 Ashton Kutcher?

10:04PM: he says he can’t make it to the fourth floor.

10:04PM and-a-half: he’s just going to “go for it.”

10:05PM: concluding statement to the conversation from him: “finals, man.”

—

10:07PM: oh no the end of the world as we know it

10:08PM: my phone is at 2%

10:09PM: WHAT EVER WILL I DO???????

10:11PM: welp, time to pack up. this was really solid.

10:16PM: you know, this studying thing is so good. I should do it more often.

but in all realness, let me just say: GOOD LUCK ON YOUR FINALS, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL. YOU GOT THIS AND I BELIEVE IN YOU SO MUCH. SERIOUSLY. LUV U BYE. xoxo

New York Realities

June 18th

It’s sometime past 6:30AM, and my sister wakes me with a soft knock on the dark wooden door.

Perhaps my reaction is a tad delayed in the fact that I am in fact going into New York city today, as I lie in bed for another five minutes or so, something I do when I’m at home and avoiding the moral call to get ready for work.

I shower with a bar of Aveda soap, and a travel-sized tube of St. Ives apricot scrub. It’s not until after I get out of the shower that I realize that I didn’t wash my armpits. The second round in the shower makes me confront my excitement for the day ahead.

I eat a bowl of multigrain cheerios in what is the immaculate kitchen of this Katonah, NY dream house. I’m a far cry from the still of Breakfast at Tiffany’s I have on my bedroom wall at home, but perhaps that isn’t necessarily a bad thing, as I sip a coffee that seems a tad better than the one Miss Golightly holds.

We enter White Plains, NY and I’m greeted by the greatest mall in the area: Westchester Mall. It’s a Wednesday morning, and arriving upon opening brings me stares from the mall employees. I always hate the first customers of the day, too.

It’s a cornucopia of American stores: Gap, Banana Republic, American Eagle, American Apparel, Starbucks, Urban Outfitters. It’s like I’m home again.

Urban Outfitters ends up being my only place of success, which is something of a surprise to me, but perhaps my high-standards are somewhat lowered in the face of two-dollar Girls calendars and ten-dollar BDG hoodies.

In my two hours, I’ve tried on more clothes than I have in a whole year, across the mall. I never try things on, but in the spirit of killing time, I indulge myself.

I walk up to my sister’s hair salon, and arrive a tad early. I’m greeted by her colourist, who informs me that I must go to “The Village.” I nod my head like he has just told me the secret to happiness, but inside my head there’s not a whole lot going on. The only village I know of is this really try-hard section of Park Royal with a Whole Foods and a Tommy Bahama’s.

We drive into the city, and I try to capture moments of the George Washington bridge as we drive by it. Sadly, there’s a lot of dashboard in these shots.

Ultraviolence plays the whole way into the city, with “Brooklyn Baby” played on repeat a couple of times. I don’t think I’ll ever be this close to Brooklyn with the lyrics of Lana this fresh in my head.

The day seems like a dream.

We park somewhere in a garage somewhere down an avenue that is in the forties. I watch the silver Jeep go up a lift, before I enter the humidity and hostility that is the air of New York City.

If there’s something to be said about this city, it’s that it’s alive. There is life every single place you look, there are people every single place you look. I can’t stop looking around as we dart through the people, only stopping when the light is truly red. It’s lunch time now, and the line-ups for food trucks are as big as they seem on The Food Network. My mind is on so many things, except where our end point could be.

Stop. We’re going the wrong way.

Turn around, dart faster, faster.

Dang, I am never doing NYC with a triathlon runner again, I think.

She darts into a building about five minutes later, and I chase after her striped dress, the door almost hitting me on the way in.

We’re at a show. The show has just started, but they still give us tickets. We rush up flights of stairs to our seats. It all starts to hit me that this is all really happening, and I’m about to see Michael C. Hall, Toni Collette, and Marisa Tomei in about thirty seconds. My sister remembered me briefly mentioning it, and totally surprised me! The show, The Realistic Joneses, takes just over an hour, critiquing human socialization, with a dark comedic edge.

It was one of the coolest shows I’ve seen, mostly because I haven’t watched anything like it before.

We’re ushered down the opposite spiral staircase to the street, and I sheepishly sneak my way back in to find a ‘restroom’ as the American’s call it.

—

We wander through Times Square, and I’m greeted by what is the biggest H&M I have ever seen, and a Gap that had a lot of the same stuff that my store had at home (ah, corporations.)

—

By this time, we’re reminded that our last substance was a package of mini-biscotti-esque cookies, and a lukewarm bottle of water.

We head to an area called Hell’s Kitchen, and head into a place called Mercato, as recommended by her colourist. It’s all very hip, and cute, with some patrons fawning over the World Cup near the bar. I don’t really taste the food as I shovel it down, but perhaps the point of this meal is the presence of my sister’s smile across the table from me.

—

We head towards Greenwich Village, taking the Subway. It’s a far-cry from the Canada Line, as their turnstiles actually work. Getting off near NYU, we walk to the Village, which falls short of the shopping I was promised. I see various stalls with vendors, a Chipotle, and a schwack of piercing places on the same block. Although tempting to add to my body mods while I’m away, I decide to save a sweet sixteen-esque, impulse piercing for another day.

We head for SoHo, walking by cool stores like Rag & Bone, and Brooklyn Industries on the way. In SoHo, I’m greeted by familiar stores like Zara, and Converse. Dean & DeLuca catches my eye, and I’m reminded of that moment in The Devil Wears Prada where they name-drop D&D for their pricetag of almost $8 per strawberry.

—

We subway back to somewhere near the forty-something avenue where the Jeep is, as it’s starting to hit dusk, and we’re both tired.

It’s been quite the day for me, walking through this city of dreams and dashed stars. I get to play Lana in the dark, as my sister drives back up-state.

You’re crazy for me, croons Lana in the outro to “Cruel World,” and honestly that couldn’t sum up my feelings for this city more. I am crazy for it.

—

I say a quick goodnight to my sister, and brother-in-law, once we arrive, and hear the echo of my patter on the hardwood, as I walk to my room.

I shut the dark hardwood door softly and wince in pain for a moment, as I look down at my right foot.

A small blister has decided to emerge on my pinkie toe after the day’s events.

There it is: my crown.

Derrick Gravener: Honorary New Yorker, for a day.

Course Selection Season A.K.A Ultraviolence

Much like the beautiful and tragic new Lana Del Rey album, we are greeted by something also equally beautiful and tragic: Course Selection Season.

It’s the thing that keeps you up at night, wondering if you’ve been good enough all year to not get a schedule full of coal. You can’t sleep the night before. You hold your stuffed alligator or what have you close to you at night, and let out a childish wimper, as this is something even your respective parent can’t fix for you.

Here’s some tips for making it through it:

1. Food

Rule #1 to any conflict in my life always revolves around food.

For course selection, might I suggest a handful of trail mix, or some camomile tea. Let’s aim for something calming. We all know that your Sociology discussion is probably going to fill up about fifteen minutes before your scheduled registration time, and spilt tea is a lot easier to clean up then like a two-six of Dr. Pepper.

2. Multiple Worklists

I’m going to say it again for everyone’s benefit: MULTIPLE

Keep a sheet of what courses you really need. The key is to register as fast as possible. I’m not saying course selection is like a race, but I’m also not, not saying that. You feel me?

3. The Worklist May NOT Match Your Registered Courses

Remember that if you don’t get everything on your worklist, and you end up frantically adding something else, it will only pop-up on your “registered courses” and not your worklist.

Make sure you make a final worklist of your registered courses, as to save yourself some confusion in the future. Seriously, trust me. I’m freaked out too many times when I thought that two courses were overlapping in term two.

4. Advising is Always (ok, almost always) There for You

Call your faculty’s advising line, or shoot them an email if you run into something major.

If you don’t know who to go to, talk to your Enrolment Services Professional (ESP. They know what’s up, and who to holler at. (Shoutout to Cara Low for being an awesome ESP!!!)

5. Profs are USUALLY Pretty Cool

What I mean by this is they are like usually really approachable over e-mail or something. Sometimes not, sometimes they don’t email you back, but like this is one of those YOLO moments. Sometimes they even let you into their class even though it’s technically full. (Thanks, Dr. Oh!)

6. Waitlists Happen

Don’t be scared off by the waitlist! Go sign up for it if you REALLY want that course.

7. Check the SSC a BUNCH during first week

People drop out of a lot of courses during first week. If you STILL want that course, go check for it during first week. It could save a whole lot of paperwork for you and your faculty’s advising department!

8. Go Online (At Least) An Hour Before

See if any of your courses are already full, and shift your schedule around a little bit earlier. This will save you a ton of stress, hopefully.

—

And finally…

New York Dreams

Sunday

It’s 12:38AM, and I lie here listening to the sound of a party in the distance. The bass is somewhat absent in what is the neighbour’s son’s College graduation party. People’s taste in party music has always been fascinating to me. It’s weird being alone in the basement of an Upstate New York house, on a mattress. A few days previously I was stressing about my final Creative Writing 200 assignment, and the state of my personal life. I lie here knowing that the end of the summer term left me more alone than I had originally thought.

Loneliness is a fear I have. Why? Because most of the time I think too much, and before you know it, I wake up having a panic attack. Sometimes my dreams are not too kind to me, but we can’t blame them for telling me things that I am too afraid to admit to myself.

I thought this trip thousands of miles away from everything would be like a trip to rehab, to be perfectly honest. I expected to go to a place with no internet, just the company of a pool and the scorching sun. Perhaps rehab is a hyperbolic comparison, but who doesn’t like a good hyperbole?

My brain was making all kinds of situations up, probably to distract myself from the fact that this would be the first time I flew alone. My journey to the New York/Newark airport was memorable for sure, thanks to my connection in Chicago at the Orly Airport.

Chicago Sunrise

I had the pleasure of being on a red-eye out of Vancouver. I trapped myself next to the window and fell asleep after I found out that the $9.00 internet did not let me watch Netflix [sigh]. We landed at 5:00AM Chicago time, which is about 3:00AM Vancouver time. As groggy as I was, I managed to get myself through Customs, and on to the train which would take me to the terminal where my connecting flight was. Once there, I discovered that my 1.5 hour wait for my flight had become a 3.5 hour wait. I trudged to the Starbucks nearest to my gate and drowned myself in a caramel macchiato. No one at my gate seemed too happy due to the delay, so I decided to go sit with people flying to Denver. Sitting with people who weren’t mad at United Airlines really helped my psyche — that, and the caffeine I had just ingested.

I slept all but fifteen minutes of my flight from Chicago to Newark, and woke up feeling human again.

The sight of my mother in the arrivals terminal brought tears to my eyes. I think the only thing I really didn’t like about flying alone was not having a shoulder to sleep on during the flight.

I lie here, in this cool basement, surrounded by my family. Not directly surrounding me, but they lie only two floors above me. It’s comforting.

—

There are moments that have happened today that I will never be able to recreate:

-When the navigator steered my mom and I in the wrong direction and we ended up knee-deep in the Bronx, for instance. The entrance of the area so congested, and humid that there were men selling bottles of water to the people stuck in Saturday traffic.

-The look on my father’s face as I snuck up behind him, and yelled ‘SURPRISE!’ He had no idea I was coming out to see him for Father’s Day.

-Winding down the night with the company of my extended family surrounding me, as they laughed at how I held a pool cue.

All of that makes the fear that I had seem so unnecessary. Sure, there will be hours alone while I’m here, but everyone is only an iMessage or a Snapchat away.

I lie here alone, trying not to drift away in my thoughts of what could’ve been my past summer term. I’m trying to dream up what I want to do when we go into the city, instead. I still don’t know, there are so many options. Instead, I listen in again to the faint guitar in the distance, at the graduation party, and I realize that facing the loneliness is not as scary as I thought it would’ve been.

Learning

hallo.

welcome back to the possibility wasteland. holla.

—

whoa i finished first year.. ssssssssssshhhhoooooooooooooot

Seriously, that’s basically me… ^^

Transit + Other Drugs

It’s been a crazy year, yo. Like, I can still remember my first days on campus, being woken up on the bus by some other student. And like, now I can basically wake myself up on the bus. T A L E N T.

um. what else. i don’t recommend catching the 4 late at night. take the 99 because it comes more often, and then take the skytrain because the broadway-city hall station is really close to a Whole Foods open ’till 10PM and a Save-on-Foods open ’till 11PM. seriously, late night snacking ftw. ALSO MCDONALDS OPEN 24HRS there.

personal tip is try to get to school before like the huge rush (8:30-9AM??) cause then like you can get Starbz in the SUB or something without a grande line-up.

erm what else idk. learn to sleep on buses, but don’t fall asleep on other people because then people write things about students that aren’t very cooool.

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Food

seriously i spent hella money on food this year and like pro-tip would be to bring it from home, or find someone that you kinda sorta look like and steal their meal plan, (pref. varsity plan) no srsly. kidding.

stealing is bad, tho.

but like there’s no such thing as a bad sandwich. (mhm. dont quote me on that. perhaps my sandwich game is just really stong.)

also:

-subway is mreh. dont go expecting anything amazing. they are not made with love.

-the salad bar is pretty overpriced.

-the deli knows what’s up

-the burger bar is pre sketch. like sometimes they don’t cook the chicken all the way. i saw it. the fries are aiight.

-bernoulli’s is what dreams are made of. cinnamon cream cheese on a chocochoco chip bagel. WORD.

-Vanier’s has rlly good pasta and like the wraps are good, albeit, overpriced. don’t be afraid to go and check it out, even if you’re a commuter or don’t even go to ubc. we know who you are.

-venturing into the village never killed anyone, and like that place down the stairs, by the McD’s has some really stellar options for cheap Chinese food after like 5PM.

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Bookz

the bookstore hates you and does not have your best interests at heart.

might i suggest doing some research before hand and trying to buy it off a student a la UBC Textbooks for Sale – Facebook Group??

Maybe buy it off Amazon?

Maybe go to that place in the village that claims to be cheaper idk.

BUT LIKE MAYBE ALSO DO YOUR RESEARCH SO THAT YOU BUY THE RIGHT ONE IF U TAKE MEASURES INTO YOUR OWN HANDS.

AND THEN YOU WONT BE OUT 30$ BECAUSE SOME CHICK SCAMS YOU FOR HER GERMAN 100 BOOK WHICH IS ACTUALLY NOT EVEN GOOD FOR REALLY ANYTHING. (im not bitter at all.)

Sanity and Goals and Self-Worth

YEAAAAAAAAH idk.

All I can really say on this topic is try to prioritize, and time manage as best you can, and get all your assignments in on time.

Pro tip # deux is surround yourself with cool people who motivate you, and think you’re hot apple pie, because there are days when you will feel like you are leftover fruit loops in the box, outside the bag, that someone forgot about.

you cannot do this alone.

try to get involved, and get outside, and get a reasonable amount of sleep, and dont drink too much coffee.

i know i sound like a really concerned parent raining on a parade of college freedom, but seriously your mental health is gonna take a really bad turn if you go on some sort of no sleep, full-sugar bender.

self-worth: find something you love and hold on tight to it, because there is going to be so much other stuff flying at you during the year, you may lose sight of it. whatever happens, don’t forget to look down at what you decided to hold on to for yourself.

goals: pfft those are for second year. pFFFFFFFFT.
no seriously, set realistic goals, and be prepared to make sacrifices.

Concluding Statements:

first year was pretty rad for me, but i certainly had some tough times.

i’d like to thank my family, and my social circle for providing food, and emotion support. y’all are like a river rock and you catch me when i’ve gone down the creek a little too far.

title for this blog was inspired by this:

more to come on first year advice. i got some stories, yo.

shoutout to all the peeps who got admitted to ubc, and all the peeps that start summer courses this week (me, holla). it’s gonna be CRAAAAAAAY. RAISE THE ROOF. FLASH THE PEOPLE DOING CONSTRUCTI– ok never mind, that was a tangent. this isn’t freakin’ Spring Breakers.

k byeee~

Move to Trash

~Shoutout to Wreck Beach for keeping me sane~

This blog would not exist if I wasn’t honest with what’s happening, and what’s not happening.

This month has really been a trying time for me. Real talks.

I’ve attempted to put this whole month into a blog post, like four times, already, and I’ve just ended up clicking the ‘move to trash’ button.

That’s the thing. It’s really easy to throw everything away, but starting over is a daunting feat.

—

I did something recently. It was kind of an impulse decision, but I still did it. I quit my job.

It’s something that I’ve been doing for just over three years, and sadly it grew extremely banal for me recently. That, and to be honest, my academic progress is rather lacking, to put it lightly.

I’m not putting the time I should be into school work, because frankly I find most of the stuff we’re doing to be trivial.

-pause for a moment, as I hover over the ‘move to trash’ button, yet again-

Nope, nope. I’m still here.

—

Here’s the thing: I’m lost.

I’m feel really lost, right now. In all of this stuff. It’s like swimming in the middle of the ocean, and I don’t see any islands or ships, and all I taste is sea water, which I liked to begin with, but now I’m just dehydrated, and burnt out.

I’ve been dealing with this feeling for like the last two weeks, and it’s heavy. It’s not something I wish on anyone; to carry this burden around of not feeling like you’re in the correct place.

Like, you’re some sort of visitor to your own life, and you have to wear the ‘Visitor’ lanyard, which sticks out a lot, and everyone knows that you’re not a regular.

—

I had all these plans for next year. They all seemed so grand, and everything. I said, “I’m not going to get attached to them. I don’t want to get my hopes or anything.” But I totally did. I attached myself to them, because it seemed like an upgrade to be in a different place.

And, now in this place that I didn’t really plan for, and I feel like I’m a warden of the State or something.

—

Starting over is something I hate.

But, it’s exactly what I need to do right now to get myself out of what I’ve landed in.

Perhaps, in the coming week, I will not eat an ENTIRE jar of Nutella. (pause of LOLs…) I mean seriously, I was just MAOWing.

Maybe, I’ll actually do some real editing of the stuff I need to turn-in.

Possibly, I’ll stop staying in bed for an hour, after I wake up.

HAAAAAAAAA..

—

I will find myself somewhere in the mountain of clothes on my bed, in the spilled wax on my chest of drawers, in the empty mugs on my desk, in the old to-do list, in not noticing cars when I decide to go for a run, in every mediocre grade.

Something good will come of this.

You know why?

Because everyone loves a comeback story.

Phreshman Year

hey, so i totally disappeared for a month, and i apologize for that, but sometimes writing is not really what you think it should be and you have like loads of things that you’ve started blogging about that are just sitting in your draft folder that don’t actually turn into anything.

—

click. clack.

—

So, I’m going to be super narcissistic and write about my uni lyfe. cause it’s all happening. and it’s happening fast.

here are the things about phreshmen year that are making me tick. and tock:

Identity Crisis
—

I had a pile of clothes and hangers on the ground today, because like, i dont actually know what my style is anymore. I mean like things are preppy and then some things are punk and then some things are straight up leopard print. like, what is MEE-OW?

but, like stocking up on more black, grey, white, and navy is always a thing close to my heart.

and then im like WOW i should be more social. i should friend more people on facebook and take an active role in making a name for myself. why dont more people like my profile picture? i need to instagram more. i need more friends on snapchat so that i can snap them more selfies of me eating out of the nutella jar.

and, then my writing style is a constant identity crisis, because there is how i’m writing right now, super casual, and then there’s also like write-your-seven-page-paper writing and then i’m all “pinkies up, fishes, we must attempt to convey poise and class.”

and sometimes i feel like the colour ink i choose is indicative of my life or something, and like i lost my fave ever red pen during reading week last week and read too much into what the symbolism of that might be and like omg my life is falling apart.

//but then i realize that i can actually buy another one.

i’m just out $6 because kewl pens are rlly expensive, and life lesson: swag costs money, kids.

Classes in General
—

So, honestly box, I’m not a huge fan of really any of the courses I’m taking right now, except for German.

–which, like really sucks.

——- because i’m paying money for them

———- and paying money for things that you aren’t getting swag out of is like eating biscuits without gravy. you feel me? (side note: honey butter is also acceptable)

but seriously, fri3nds, real talks,

take courses you like. and don’t take a coordinated arts stream unless you absolutely know what you want to do with your life.

because I most certainly do not, and here I am like knee-deep in a creek of ice cold media jargon.

Dreams
—

what are those????

no, seriously, I walked by Toys ‘R Us last night on Broadway at like 10PM when they were closed and it looked really bleak and I was like: “dreams die in there…”

But, seriously my last year of high school was all:

WOW. D R E A M

And this year has just been like:

Profs, tho.

So cheers, to the broke student life, and being realistic, and for getting shut down by profs. WINNNNNNING.

..tears

Food
—

I will never shut up about food, because seriously i can’t figure out how to do the thing most of the time.

I mean do i buy a whole pizza at mercante????? go to vanier caf? go to triple o’s? cry about the knorrs sidekick that is the pasta dish at Ike’s? rant about the sad selection of muffins at stir it up/ buy every candy imaginable there? go to the sub and survey every place ever just to decide that what I REAAALLY want is Tim Horton’s?

like,

what do>>>>????

Time Management
—

Let’s talk about that later.

—

seriously,

if i don’t plan most everything i basically fall apart and just end up napping the whole day or just marathon-ing Girls or something

Tangents
—

Full disclosure, I had to go to Tumblr to find that, and then I forgot my password, because I’m usually on my phone when i go on tumblr, and then i had to go check my Gmail, and then there were a bunch of other emails like the fact that Ingrid Michaelson is coming to down again, and is going to venue, and yet again, i will not be 19. and then i just pouted for a sec.

and then i went on youtube, because they also emailed me.

and then i forgot what i was doing.

and then i sort of reflected on the Oscars tonight and I still can’t decide how I feel about them…

DOES THIS EVER HAPPEN TO YOU?

DO YOU EVER JUST DROWN ON THE INTERNET IN WORDS AND GIFs and FEELS and PEOPLE.

UGH.

—

But, honestly, this is a cool time. and a not cool time. but mostly cool.

and i gotta just remember that.

—

let’s all raise a Starbucks and clink paper cups.

[clinks]

Day-Old Moonshine

Category Archives: is there an emoji to this emotion???

This Skin // This Voice // This Year

Third Year: A Complicated Love Story

Wait For Life

“Finals, Man…”

New York Realities

Course Selection Season A.K.A Ultraviolence

New York Dreams

Learning

Move to Trash

Phreshman Year