The next morning after 2009 ended, after the ball was dropped, after everyone cheered 2010!!! for about ten minutes (appropriate yes?) longer than necessary, after people kissed, after the hangovers were slept off, and after I changed out of new years clothes and into the first outfit of 2010 (sweatpants, appropriate? eh it was comfortable) I realized something: 2009 was a marathon of a year.
It suddenly felt like my mind had just taking the SAT 30 times and ran the Chicago Marathon seven times in 40 degree weather while being told I'm the most successful person in the world and the biggest failure of the world. Basically the equivalent of an Iron Man competition, the entrance exam into Mensa, and psychotherapy combined. I realized not only was this year the most eventful of my life, it was easily the most emotionally and physically draining as well.
Think about it: college acceptance/rejection letters, the end of senior year, graduation, prom, a summer of working and hanging out with friends non-stop, orientation, moving out, first semester of college, grades, back home, and before I knew it there was a fresh new year, a new decade, being handed to me on a big shiny silver platter before I even had time to digest the old one.
I sat down in front of my room heater (I hear heat facilitates the growth of mental activity plus it was -10 degrees) and let my brain finally contemplate, ruminate, mull, study, ponder, and consider the year that had just wrapped me up in its hell-bent tornado and spat me out.
It was hard to imagine how exactly it all happened. Graduating high school is a big deal right? I did it. Going to college is a big deal right? Just did that too. However I have no recollection of really processing how important these two events were within the course of my life. I remember going through with the graduation ceremony as though it was another thing on my to do list- I just wanted to get the whole high school list checked off so I could move onto college. Summer was a big ol' sepia toned lick of ice cream sprinkled in tan lines and cliche top 40 hits. Absolutely perfect, but almost too perfect- by the time it rolled around to head toward Chicago I didn't want to leave the best friends that had made those three months so memorable. I got to college and was thrown into a chaotic mix of new friends, activities, classes, and exploring my new surroundings. I dove into anything I could find just to immerse myself in the "college life" and make a new perfect life at Loyola- just like the one I had left behind. It was a lot to handle: two jobs, three activities, a social life, and schoolwork (...priorities) and I never really took a chance to breathe or sleep. I just focused on the "now", what I was feeling that second, what I could do to to get instant gratification without stepping back and seeing how this semester was just one part of my four years of the college life. This year has been so monumental, so eventful that I felt that everything I did had to be another pivotal event in order to make my life successful.
But even as I did all this, I would still feel empty, like there was more I should be doing. I realized this was because I never stopped to think about what exactly I had accomplished. I was on this achievement high- everything I did had to have some monumental importance. Where are you supposed to go from high school graduation and starting college? Nearly everything is going to seem insignificant and purposeless when you start over at the bottom, and I didn't realize this. Thinking back on this year, I have had the most productive year of my life but I wasn't aware until it was over.
And then on top of these events in my personal life, the world was working through some sizable moments of its own. Of course, Obama was sworn into office, making him the first African-American president and a beacon of hope for a more diplomatic, peaceful, and healthy future. He was handed the biggest tangled mess of predicaments probably ever handed to an incoming executive and it has been a long tough year of discussion especially regarding the economy, health care, and most recently the war in Afghanistan. However when America wanted action most, its been forced to take a slow trek down Obama Road- a lot of talk and little specific results thus far. Though this is frustrating, I have faith. Just as I have to sit back and let my life run its course, I think as a nation we have to have a little faith that the nasty mess Obama has been given may take a couple years to clean up, and we're going to have to be patient to see what can happen.
There was also the Bernie Madoff scandal, Michael Jackson's death, Tiger Wood's scandal, Kanye West's impromptu speech, the Ling sisters not being allowed to leave North Korea, swine flu paranoia and the Fort Hood massacre to name a few of the top events. These events seemed to signify a decline in a national feeling of morality, safety, and security. If the leaders in economy, sports, pop culture, and the military can't even hold it together, how are we supposed to? In addition to dealing with the pressures of everyday life, we were pummeled with new stories about scandal and failures every morning.
However, though 2009 was a strenuous year, it is now over. We all have a fresh new blooming year and can use the strength and hard work that pushed us through this last year to its growth. I plan on taking more time to reflect on what I am doing and why I am doing it and whether I am doing these things just to do something or whether I actually think this will benefit me one day (I swear my life isn't as vague as that sentence). I want to have a lot of amazing experiences, but I'd like to actually take the time to appreciate that I lived the moment instead of hopping to the next one. I believe 2010 will be a regrowth year, and we're going to start off this decade stronger than ever.
Happy New Year! Thanks for reading!
Check back frequently, I plan on stepping up my blogging game this year (it may or may not or absolutely may be a resolution of mine) as well as expanding my social media network thingy by hittin' up every social media network thingy website I can! So add me on facebook, tweet me @karis02 (I pride myself in creative usernames), digg this blog, and tell your friends using those archaic mediums such as texting, calling, e-mailing, or mailing about this blog! Also please comment, I always love feedback. Thanks!
Also check out my personal favorite 2009 end of the year diddly-doos:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iNzrwh2Z2hQ
http://minnesota.publicradio.org/radio/services/the_current/features/specials/top89/
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/12/22/top-trends-facebook-2009_n_399929.html
12.07.2009
I'm A Little On Edge.
So its hell week, and I'm a little on edge. This makes me notice the little things that ordinarily would have brought out an eye roll or grimace now elicit a death stare and petrifying scowl. For example:
-Girls who talk about Twilight as though it is a real movie.
Sorry, but its not. This movie was not made for "the love of the book" or to bring to life the vibrant words and world Stephanie Meyer's so painstakingly created (sorry but have you even read the book? "I do want to know what you’re thinking — everything. I just wish… that you wouldn’t be thinking some things." -Edward Cullen, Twilight, Chapter 10, p.208. Captivating.) No, these movies were made with the sole purpose of squeezing every last cent out of another teen obsession that blinds young women to the perils of their fixation on a fantasy vampire/werewolf/wizard/mutant-superhero until they wake up from their coma at age 23, dizzy, confused, and $1927 poorer than at age 14 when they first began their descent into the cult of the Hollywood created man. So when you say things like: "You can totally tell that New Moon's director was so much better, it was much better quality and dialogue" it kinda makes me die a little inside. We all know all you Twilight nerds would go see every one of the movies multiple times whether it was directed by Martin Scorcese or my little brother, so stop acting like you know what directors even do in the film making process, and just stick to rereading the books, re-watching the movies, and unfairly comparing the males around you to a vampire created to be the epitome of every girl's fantasy.
-Girls who wear the same outfit everyday:
Northface fleece, scarf, designer jeans, Uggs. Its super comfortable, I agree. I have worn this outfit (sans designer jeans, I'm in college- how do you people have money?!) many a time, but eventually I start to want to differentiate myself from an animated cartoon where the characters wear the same outfit every day for 25 years. Unless you are planning to give up your soul to become a cartoon character (if you know how to do this, please let me know because that's pretty badass), maybe consider not pouring yourself into the same clothes mold every day? I hear that eventually the fleece fibers and sheepskin fur begins to weave itself into the spirals of your DNA and soon it grows as a second skin. Warm? Yes. Creepy? A stronger and louder YES.
I apologize for these scathing (and slightly hypocritical considering I have both seen Twilight and worn the outfit I detest) remarks, however the kind side of my brain is being overpowered by the cranky-psycho-student side. That being said, I have also noticed that the small occurrences in my daily life give me a little hope that I will get through this ridiculous week and continue to mock humanity for a very long time. For example:
-People who are caricatures of themselves
This phenomenon, not surprisingly, tends to manifest itself on the el. I was coming home from the Field Museum after doing a super-fascinating (is there a font for sarcasm?) worksheet for my Plants and Civilzation course (http://www.blogfordemocracy.org/littleshopofhorrors2.jpg) and just as I was about to fall asleep to the gentle rhythm of public transportation (terrible idea by the way) I was saved by Adventure Man. As soon as his Tevas hit the floor of the Red Line train to Howard, I swear the theme music from "Into the Wild" played faintly in the background and somewhere in the distance a wolf howled. Adventure Man walked, nay, swaggered to a seat with the deftness only someone who has frequented the Lincoln Park Athletic Club’s rock wall could have mustered. He surveyed his surroundings with what I could only imagine was a keen eye, though hidden by a pair of highly technical wrap around, mirrored Oakleys, complete with a strap around his neck in case the el suddenly screeched to a stop in which case he could jump up and assist in saving three elderly women, four babies, and an attractive but steely woman to with which to exchange in witty sexually charged banter and not lose those precious shades. Though I was wrapped up in a rabbit fur hat and Northface, he was content in Under Armor and zippered pants- yes, he was prepared for any temperature jump with a simple ZIP! Cargo pants, man-pris, or shorts. Three pairs of pants in one. The ultimate preparedness for the ultimately prepared man. We approached Bryn Mawr (a known rugged stop) and he prepared to set off on another expedition. He gripped the silver pole with leather, fingerless gloves (because real men don’t need their phalanges protected), and adjusted his hyper high-tech, GPS/calculator/seven-time-zone clock/computer/radio watch (approximate size: 4 inches) and readied himself to set off on his newest endeavor. He departed the train, into the setting sun, intent on exploring the new horizons and cultures that awaited him in this Edgewater neighborhood.
-Loyola squirrels
Though I have been informed by many that the squirrels at their school are the most insane, I find that very hard to believe. I think consumption of tossed aside chicken strips and half smoked cigarette butts may have forced the Sciurus carolinenis to evolve into a new species of squirrel that behaves in an oddly humanistic way. I have heard countless stories describing these squirrel-men partaking in strikingly strange behavior, including (but not nearly limited to) eating entire chickens, dive bombing innocent students on the way to class, winking, and dancing. Every time I see one of these funny creatures I get the feeling that it could easily communicate with me in some way, perhaps telepathically by maintaining steady eye contact with those beady ebony eyes, and it would not have very pleasant or sane things to say. In fact I think the diet of Rambler food, sloshed alcohol, and nicotine would probably render speech somewhat akin to whatever that crack lady who sits on the top of the magazine stands outside the Loyola el stop has to say (Insert incoherent gargle/burble/babble here).
Do you find specific things severely annoying during finals week? Do you find joy in the little things you can only see in Chicago/Loyola? Let me know: LEAVE ME A COMMENT :D
-Girls who talk about Twilight as though it is a real movie.
Sorry, but its not. This movie was not made for "the love of the book" or to bring to life the vibrant words and world Stephanie Meyer's so painstakingly created (sorry but have you even read the book? "I do want to know what you’re thinking — everything. I just wish… that you wouldn’t be thinking some things." -Edward Cullen, Twilight, Chapter 10, p.208. Captivating.) No, these movies were made with the sole purpose of squeezing every last cent out of another teen obsession that blinds young women to the perils of their fixation on a fantasy vampire/werewolf/wizard/mutant-superhero until they wake up from their coma at age 23, dizzy, confused, and $1927 poorer than at age 14 when they first began their descent into the cult of the Hollywood created man. So when you say things like: "You can totally tell that New Moon's director was so much better, it was much better quality and dialogue" it kinda makes me die a little inside. We all know all you Twilight nerds would go see every one of the movies multiple times whether it was directed by Martin Scorcese or my little brother, so stop acting like you know what directors even do in the film making process, and just stick to rereading the books, re-watching the movies, and unfairly comparing the males around you to a vampire created to be the epitome of every girl's fantasy.
-Girls who wear the same outfit everyday:
Northface fleece, scarf, designer jeans, Uggs. Its super comfortable, I agree. I have worn this outfit (sans designer jeans, I'm in college- how do you people have money?!) many a time, but eventually I start to want to differentiate myself from an animated cartoon where the characters wear the same outfit every day for 25 years. Unless you are planning to give up your soul to become a cartoon character (if you know how to do this, please let me know because that's pretty badass), maybe consider not pouring yourself into the same clothes mold every day? I hear that eventually the fleece fibers and sheepskin fur begins to weave itself into the spirals of your DNA and soon it grows as a second skin. Warm? Yes. Creepy? A stronger and louder YES.
I apologize for these scathing (and slightly hypocritical considering I have both seen Twilight and worn the outfit I detest) remarks, however the kind side of my brain is being overpowered by the cranky-psycho-student side. That being said, I have also noticed that the small occurrences in my daily life give me a little hope that I will get through this ridiculous week and continue to mock humanity for a very long time. For example:
-People who are caricatures of themselves
This phenomenon, not surprisingly, tends to manifest itself on the el. I was coming home from the Field Museum after doing a super-fascinating (is there a font for sarcasm?) worksheet for my Plants and Civilzation course (http://www.blogfordemocracy.org/littleshopofhorrors2.jpg) and just as I was about to fall asleep to the gentle rhythm of public transportation (terrible idea by the way) I was saved by Adventure Man. As soon as his Tevas hit the floor of the Red Line train to Howard, I swear the theme music from "Into the Wild" played faintly in the background and somewhere in the distance a wolf howled. Adventure Man walked, nay, swaggered to a seat with the deftness only someone who has frequented the Lincoln Park Athletic Club’s rock wall could have mustered. He surveyed his surroundings with what I could only imagine was a keen eye, though hidden by a pair of highly technical wrap around, mirrored Oakleys, complete with a strap around his neck in case the el suddenly screeched to a stop in which case he could jump up and assist in saving three elderly women, four babies, and an attractive but steely woman to with which to exchange in witty sexually charged banter and not lose those precious shades. Though I was wrapped up in a rabbit fur hat and Northface, he was content in Under Armor and zippered pants- yes, he was prepared for any temperature jump with a simple ZIP! Cargo pants, man-pris, or shorts. Three pairs of pants in one. The ultimate preparedness for the ultimately prepared man. We approached Bryn Mawr (a known rugged stop) and he prepared to set off on another expedition. He gripped the silver pole with leather, fingerless gloves (because real men don’t need their phalanges protected), and adjusted his hyper high-tech, GPS/calculator/seven-time-zone clock/computer/radio watch (approximate size: 4 inches) and readied himself to set off on his newest endeavor. He departed the train, into the setting sun, intent on exploring the new horizons and cultures that awaited him in this Edgewater neighborhood.
-Loyola squirrels
Though I have been informed by many that the squirrels at their school are the most insane, I find that very hard to believe. I think consumption of tossed aside chicken strips and half smoked cigarette butts may have forced the Sciurus carolinenis to evolve into a new species of squirrel that behaves in an oddly humanistic way. I have heard countless stories describing these squirrel-men partaking in strikingly strange behavior, including (but not nearly limited to) eating entire chickens, dive bombing innocent students on the way to class, winking, and dancing. Every time I see one of these funny creatures I get the feeling that it could easily communicate with me in some way, perhaps telepathically by maintaining steady eye contact with those beady ebony eyes, and it would not have very pleasant or sane things to say. In fact I think the diet of Rambler food, sloshed alcohol, and nicotine would probably render speech somewhat akin to whatever that crack lady who sits on the top of the magazine stands outside the Loyola el stop has to say (Insert incoherent gargle/burble/babble here).
Do you find specific things severely annoying during finals week? Do you find joy in the little things you can only see in Chicago/Loyola? Let me know: LEAVE ME A COMMENT :D
11.18.2009
My Name is Karis and I've Been Abused By The Chicago Wind
I apologize I haven't written in an unfortunately long time, but alas that honeymoon stage of classes in the morning, going downtown for a couple of hours, playing soccer for an hour or two, then staying up until 3 am working on homework and watching Hulu is now over, and the unfortunate realization that the "Just Because This Is College Does Not Mean I Am Invincible" thing has slapped me in the face and homework, coffee, and sleep have become my three occupations.
But now I'm back! Well, at least for an hour or so. Actually I shouldn't even be writing now because I have a Modern East Asia paper on the Red Guards to research, however the urge to write seems to strike me at these inopportune times. For example, when I wrote "The Stacks" it chomped an hour chunk out of the countdown to my 2:15 pm Brit Lit class for which I was writing a 5 page essay on Utopia. Of course I started at 11 pm and of course I would have a horrifying encounter with the Cudahy Tomb (I mean Library, ahem) that had to be immediately documented...
But in my defense, being in the IC for long periods of time makes me notice the little things. Like, for example, the 3rd floor silent study area is not silent in the least. Typing keys are extremely loud and distracting to people who are, say, looking for distractions from reading "The Rape of the Lock" (Not that we're being specific to any one person...). Also, there are small sections of the ceiling lights that are burnt out. Ordinarily this wouldn't be something to contemplate, but because the IC is so environmentally friendly, it scares me that it is falling out of repair. How long will it take for that lightbulb to biodegrade? Will it just disintegrate in a couple of days and a blob of organic matter will fall upon some unsuspecting student? I think if they let the IC go it would probably gently decompose and turn into a lush prairie filled with indigenous Illinois plant species throughout the course of finals week. Though I would miss those big windows and comfortable chairs, I suppose a prairie is probably the most environmentally friendly study space you can get. Wouldn't be too much fun in the winter though...
Speaking of weather, the Chicago wind and I have definitely moved past the honeymoon stage. In fact we are into the sleeping in separate beds while our divorce papers are filed and the custody battle for the dog begins stage. The other day it was predicted to be 50 degrees, and to my according to my Minnesota weather scale this means: Take Advantage Of The Warm Weather By Wearing A Cute Dress Because Pretty Soon Sundress Season Will Be A Myth Of The Past. So light sundress, jacket, scarf, and leg warmers it was. At first I felt confident in my outfit choice: I bounced down the stairs of Mertz, keeping rhythm with whatever Avett Brothers tune blasted in my headphones. As I started on the sidewalk toward the el, I felt a strong breeze pushing me forward. "Well Good Morning to you too, Chicago Wind!" I happily replied in my head. Suddenly the strong breeze died down then playfully switched to blowing against me, tousling my hair in the process. "Oh you're a tricky one Mr. Wind," I thought. "But I accept your challenge!" And I bent my head and continued to the crosswalk. The walk sign flashed and I went to step off the curb. The second my foot touched the pavement, out of nowhere, that "playful" Chicago Wind begins whipping around my bare legs and created an upward gust that made my sundress billow and bubble scandalously close to exposing more than I would ever like the people who hang out on Sheridan by the McDonalds to see. Shocked, I tried to control my dress with one hand while juggling my Red Eye, thermos, and UPass in the other, and I half sprinted into the safety of the wind free CTA station.
A strange feeling came over me. I felt...abused, by weather.
Environmental abuse is usually seen as humans against nature, but this time it was the other way around. It was like the wind was one of those creepy guys at a party: they seem normal until they randomly start grinding on you when no one else is dancing. No thanks.
When did the Windy City turn so aggressive? Later, I was coming back from the post office and had a package and three letters. Right as I was about to walk into my building, I briefly let the letters I was carrying rest on top of the package and immediately they were snatched off and scattered across the quad. I bent down to pick up each letter and was nearly blown over by the relentless gusts- I felt like a teased seventh grader picking up her papers off the hallway floor as the bully stands and laughs. It seemed the wind was trying to teach me a lesson- nature is bigger and better than you. Don't forget it.
And this is only the beginning; it hasn't even snowed yet. Looks like this winter is going to be more of the dreaded climb up the hill rather than the five second sled ride down.
What about you? Had an experience with wind getting frisky? Slapping rain? Leave me a comment.
But now I'm back! Well, at least for an hour or so. Actually I shouldn't even be writing now because I have a Modern East Asia paper on the Red Guards to research, however the urge to write seems to strike me at these inopportune times. For example, when I wrote "The Stacks" it chomped an hour chunk out of the countdown to my 2:15 pm Brit Lit class for which I was writing a 5 page essay on Utopia. Of course I started at 11 pm and of course I would have a horrifying encounter with the Cudahy Tomb (I mean Library, ahem) that had to be immediately documented...
But in my defense, being in the IC for long periods of time makes me notice the little things. Like, for example, the 3rd floor silent study area is not silent in the least. Typing keys are extremely loud and distracting to people who are, say, looking for distractions from reading "The Rape of the Lock" (Not that we're being specific to any one person...). Also, there are small sections of the ceiling lights that are burnt out. Ordinarily this wouldn't be something to contemplate, but because the IC is so environmentally friendly, it scares me that it is falling out of repair. How long will it take for that lightbulb to biodegrade? Will it just disintegrate in a couple of days and a blob of organic matter will fall upon some unsuspecting student? I think if they let the IC go it would probably gently decompose and turn into a lush prairie filled with indigenous Illinois plant species throughout the course of finals week. Though I would miss those big windows and comfortable chairs, I suppose a prairie is probably the most environmentally friendly study space you can get. Wouldn't be too much fun in the winter though...
Speaking of weather, the Chicago wind and I have definitely moved past the honeymoon stage. In fact we are into the sleeping in separate beds while our divorce papers are filed and the custody battle for the dog begins stage. The other day it was predicted to be 50 degrees, and to my according to my Minnesota weather scale this means: Take Advantage Of The Warm Weather By Wearing A Cute Dress Because Pretty Soon Sundress Season Will Be A Myth Of The Past. So light sundress, jacket, scarf, and leg warmers it was. At first I felt confident in my outfit choice: I bounced down the stairs of Mertz, keeping rhythm with whatever Avett Brothers tune blasted in my headphones. As I started on the sidewalk toward the el, I felt a strong breeze pushing me forward. "Well Good Morning to you too, Chicago Wind!" I happily replied in my head. Suddenly the strong breeze died down then playfully switched to blowing against me, tousling my hair in the process. "Oh you're a tricky one Mr. Wind," I thought. "But I accept your challenge!" And I bent my head and continued to the crosswalk. The walk sign flashed and I went to step off the curb. The second my foot touched the pavement, out of nowhere, that "playful" Chicago Wind begins whipping around my bare legs and created an upward gust that made my sundress billow and bubble scandalously close to exposing more than I would ever like the people who hang out on Sheridan by the McDonalds to see. Shocked, I tried to control my dress with one hand while juggling my Red Eye, thermos, and UPass in the other, and I half sprinted into the safety of the wind free CTA station.
A strange feeling came over me. I felt...abused, by weather.
Environmental abuse is usually seen as humans against nature, but this time it was the other way around. It was like the wind was one of those creepy guys at a party: they seem normal until they randomly start grinding on you when no one else is dancing. No thanks.
When did the Windy City turn so aggressive? Later, I was coming back from the post office and had a package and three letters. Right as I was about to walk into my building, I briefly let the letters I was carrying rest on top of the package and immediately they were snatched off and scattered across the quad. I bent down to pick up each letter and was nearly blown over by the relentless gusts- I felt like a teased seventh grader picking up her papers off the hallway floor as the bully stands and laughs. It seemed the wind was trying to teach me a lesson- nature is bigger and better than you. Don't forget it.
And this is only the beginning; it hasn't even snowed yet. Looks like this winter is going to be more of the dreaded climb up the hill rather than the five second sled ride down.
What about you? Had an experience with wind getting frisky? Slapping rain? Leave me a comment.
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