Hello,

It’s me!

32349421_1485945594861283_8100753089889304576_nI’ve had the longest break from WordPress I’ve ever taken since I’ve started this blog.  It’s weird because even when publishing that last ominous post, I had no intentions of changing my blog activity — no little voice in my head thinking I should go on HIATUS.  Yet here I am…five months later.

Looking back, there were direct, sudden causes and cumulative causes.  The direct ones: I recently became an editor at my school newspaper, which has taken up most of my writing energy, as well as free time.  Also, in December, I had a medium-sized emotional breakdown — all my insecurities about having a love life in college crashed down on me, pretty much.  I think my feelings were short-circuited for a while.  I remember a conversation in January with my roommate:

Me (flatly): I just feel super depressed.

K: Like, depressed depressed?

Me: Not sure if it’s long-term, depressed depressed.  I guess I’ll let you know.

Luckily, I did feel better by the time February started, and I’ve actually had one of my favorite semesters at Penn so far.  (But the way I feel emotions has changed, thus my coping methods — writing — have changed, too.) Continue reading

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Revelation, 2017.

Even though she didn’t like Vronsky, even though she knew she should be happy for them, there was a visceral reaction within her that rebelled against being “replaced,” that demanded to be wanted.  But didn’t she know better than this?  Hadn’t her whole life solidified her understanding that no human being belongs to another, that everyone has the right to demote others for happiness?  Why couldn’t she internalize what she so strongly believed in?

And she eventually realized that her rational philosophy to let people live without revolving around her was thwarted by her voracious addiction for attention and validation, as if she had a bottomless deficit to fill.  And this selfishness, when it came down to it, was due to her insecurities, the lifelong feeling that she was a misfit accident that needed to be “approved,” that she was undeserving of love.  She had the knowledge to free people from her idealizations; her infirmities caused her to grab on tighter, still, like a reflex.

And while she did not think that all people who are kind also have to be secure, she knew this for herself, at least: she needed to love herself to be fair.  She needed to love herself in order to be a good person. Continue reading

a brief history of me and love

My first love was in kindergarten, in the curly blond hair of Nicholas and his round white cheek that I sought with pursed lips.  He dodged my advances, but still played with me all the time.  I think we were best friends.  Then he moved away, and in an act of operatic melodrama that I wanted others to see, I sat on top of the playground and sang sad songs.

My idea of love was standing in front of my parents with a Bible in my hands, pretending to be a priest that married them after they had a fight.  As if each re-marriage would start their love anew.  I now think that they probably needed a divorce.

Love in elementary school was crushing on every boy who sat next to me when the seating arrangement refreshed.   Continue reading

Asterisms

An exercise for my creative writing class

1.

I never knew there were so many stars.  In a dewy clearing ringed with evergreen, fifty other students and I stared up at the upside-down bowl of the sky.  In the clear Poconos air, every star clamored for attention, and I thought that there were almost too many.  The sky nearly looked cluttered with white pinpricks.

At my school, a student can sign up for a camping trip before the official start of freshman year.  I thought it was a good chance to fulfill my longtime dream of adventuring the wilderness.  We were sitting in rows in the grass when a camp leader started a monologue:

“Look at the stars.  The Milky Way.  Light from stars travel billions of miles to reach your eyes at this spot, at this moment.  The light itself is ancient.  Some shine from stars that have already passed away.  This can make you feel temporary.  Fleeting.  And small.  But you also know, looking up, that you are not alone.” Continue reading

Teenage Manifesto

In one week, I will be twenty years old.

During my teens, I would be kept awake by the thought that I would forget what it feels like to be young.  Maybe it’s narcissism, but I think that adolescence is an incredibly formative and dynamic time that deserves attention.  I vowed to write as much about teens — real and fictional — to document the experience.  Aside from narcissism, I think this was also an act of self-preservation: I could feel myself being replaced by incrementally older versions of myself and the memory of What it is Like to Be Michele at This Second blown away like forgotten dust.  In each moment of my life, I desperately did not want to lose the version of myself at that time.  I guess this is another way to say that I’m afraid of dying. Continue reading

Shedding Light

For my creative writing class, I’m writing a lot about how scattered small/distant lights influence my life.  (It’s abstract and artsy, I know).

Walking around the campus of my east coast school in autumn, I was trying to figure out why the season evokes such a sublime sensation within me.  It was mostly to do with the beauty of trees during this time of year, I thought.

It wasn’t until I came across a sidewalk strewn with orange, red, and yellow leaves when I realized that fallen leaves are a variation of the random lights that I write about.  Leaves are, if you think about it, concentrated reservoirs of light (OK: more accurately, they are sponges that absorb light in which plants do their most important chemistry).  Continue reading

reflecting on freshman year

Read my first semester summary here, and here

I’ve been delaying this reflection.  Mostly, because when I try to describe my freshman year, contradictions crop up early on.  For instance, I can start by saying that this first year felt much denser and more eventful than all four years of high school—“I’ve aged ten years,” I joke to those who ask about it.  So, a lot happened.  But then again, not really.  I mean, there were a few milestones of course.  But other than that…nothing that dramatic happened to me. I think about how by the end of the year, I still felt mostly like myself.  It wasn’t, like, I metamorphosed into a different person or had a ton of wild shit happen to me.  But even though the before and after pic is not very altered, distance does not equal displacement.  There was a winding path in between my starting and ending point.  Though not a lot changed, technically, the emotional journey feels long and profound for me.

I can still say, without a doubt, that after this year I know myself much better, and I can say that I feel more grown up.  I can also say that I really like the person I’ve matured into.

Here’s why: Continue reading

Chew

Companion journal entries about overthinking

I’m glad I (briefly) got messed up with you this summer – at least it gives my brain something to chew on.

Maybe my whole life is all about me finding the next morsel to stuff in my mouth, regardless of whether it’s good for me or not.  Regardless of whether I bite off more than I can chew. Continue reading