10/31, no. 60

I've been on blogger several times this past week and almost every time I visit this site I begin to write a post, only to realize that I have nothing to say, and I subsequently delete the blank post. I still have not much to say. I go places but I see nothing, I am touched but I feel nothing, I eat and I taste nothing (which is perhaps the strangest sensation of all); I feel detached.

I guess that's all.

An edit five minutes after publishing this post: despite my indifference, these are things that have happened recently: I didn't care, I ate Indian food, I quit Elements, I failed a test, I dressed up, I vomited, I cleaned, I went to parties, I watched TV

10/23, no. 59

Last night/this morning/today is important because today I decided to be okay with moving on. Hurray.

10/22, no. 58

Everything seems much clearer and sharper outside. Backpacking and camping gives me really vivid dreams, and little is complicated when it comes to the outdoors. I'm going to save up and invest in a pair of stereotypical liberal arts attire (backpacking backpack and Tevas) and go out to Mt. Rainier or the Olympics more often, because a) I need to start taking advantage of PSO (Puget Sound Outdoors, the second most popular club on campus that goes on multiple trips - including kayaking, canoeing, hiking, backpacking, camping, rock climbing, etc - every weekend) and b) I love campus, I think it's beautiful, but a small vacation would be really nice.
Go outside. Things are better there.

10/16, no. 57

My breath of fresh air, my primary source of comfort and entertainment, my company with whom I feel infinite, my exhale after months of inhaling and keeping it in...thank you friends, I love you all.

10/13, no. 56

I have a lot to do. I just took a shower and granted myself another break...but really, I have so much shit to do that I feel like I need to just sit down and plan out how I'm going to do everything optimally, when in reality the smarter option would be to just get shit down asap. I'm in the in-between zone of calm and stress. I'm okay right now but my stomach is churning and I have an impending headache and I can feel the symptoms of nostalgic but unwanted stress coming back. But writing about it is so much more cathartic. I have a lab to go to. The fire alarm broke my concentration. I took a hot shower. I'm cold. I need to do laundry. I need to study for math. I need to study for history. I need to start my psych paper.

Wait, okay, I think I can do it.

10/11, no. 55

To one of my oldest and closest friends, to the most driven and dedicated girl I know, to the one I know I can always have fun with: today you are eighteen, a number in which society has injected significance. It means you've got all these new governmental rules, rights, circumstances, etc...but like any birthday, no real change is ever felt immediately.
But I see change. It's been a pleasure watching you grow to where you are now, a state of oxymoronic immature maturity.
On day one we were frazzled sixth graders attempting to get to our lockers, and my biggest stress in the world was part of my backpack was stuck in someone else's lockers, so as I became increasingly freaked out, you gave me a pair of scissors to cut it off. I remember this very vividly.
In seventh grade we lucked out and landed in the same math class and we thought we were the shit because we passed notes all the time without getting caught. Ten bucks Ms Wassel knew what we were up to the whole time. We thought we were cool because we were older than the genius sixth graders in that class, yet we were such idiots.
Freshman year we became excruciatingly close friends, sharing all our secrets about boys in cross country. I always looked up to you, because while I struggled to keep up with my grade in Biology, you were excelling; while I could barely run a 6:30 min mile, you were racing to the sub-6 zone.
Thank you for everything you've done. Quite honestly you're the last person I'd find inspiration in - you pile yourself with academics, you rarely sleep, you stress out nonstop - and yet you're the closest friend I'm motivated by. We're so alike and it's so reassuring to know we'll always have each other, even if we get so caught up with life that we forget to even speak to one another for weeks.
Happy birthday, Michelle. I know school is hard and neither of us are completely settled in socially, but I'm glad we can go through hard shit together.

10/10, no. 54

Although I fought hard to propel myself to study medicine in the beginning of the year, I still made sure I'd somehow stick to writing - something I'll always have. So I sought out to join the staff of Elements magazine, the science journal published on campus. I'm not necessarily writing about my passions like I did in high school (one of the great highlights of junior and senior years were being entertainment editor of the school paper. Even though our paper was overall crap, it was still so much fun making layouts, writing articles, delegating stories, and just informing the general public about awesome ongoing happenings in the arts industry...I would get stressed out, but it was really the best kind of stress). Instead, I'm writing about things I'm honestly rather unfamiliar with - microscopic protozoa, infectious parasites, etc - but it's all part of the learning experience which I'm profoundly appreciating almost every step of the way. Right now I'm writing about Toxoplasma Gondii, and I'm having a surprising amount of fun researching the obscure yet quite active/existent single-celled organism. I'm having even more fun writing about it.
Even though I might not be crazy about science, I'm glad I have Elements to write for; it's an assurance that further solidifies my love for all kinds of writing.

10/9, no. 53

One thing I really love about college is the fact that I learn so much outside of the classroom. This past weekend alone I learned how to properly knit and ride a bicycle, both of which I've been actively and almost constantly utilizing now. Knitting needs little mental energy yet requires pretty focused concentration, which are two traits that aptly describe my favorite cathartic guilty pleasures (like painting nails). Biking is a literal source of escape, everything seems so much more fast-paced and urban when riding a bike (but I'm probably biased seeing as how the only times I've biked are after the sun's gone down).
And then there are the lessons learned that could very possibly help me out in random corners, significant or not, of life: how and why you should only drink black coffee, how to take care of a completely shitfaced acquaintance, how to make houses/shoe racks/bookshelves/etc out of cardboard boxes, how to engage in conversation better (people love to talk about themselves, so to lessen the awkwardness you just keep asking questions and seem interested. Luckily the latter portion of this protocol isn't too hard because people, as it turns out, are actually pretty cool).
I've learned other things, too. I talked to a close friend's cousin, a wise senior at Middlebury, and he explained to me that one shouldn't be whoring themselves off to different careers by changing or idiotically majoring in a subject they don't love; rather, we should be examining ourselves, seeing what we do best because "life is about doing, not just learning; you're not going to be reading essays and writing theses when you're 40, you're going to be doing." Thank you, by the way.
And during another phone call with the same close friend last night I was told something I've been severely overlooking during the past year: "Ashley, I know you love journalism and English. You've been wanting to do that for years. It might not be the most marketable major, but it's what you love to do. So do what you love to do, and be the best at it." (Thank you, too). And it's true. All throughout middle school I'd be obsessed with writing and I made sure I would be at the top of the class in the field of English - in the eighth grade, I had an immense desire to study journalism in Germany. But when I was handed a fat slap of reality, I guess I took it the wrong way and looked at other fields and freaked out.
I'm in a big state of transition right now. I'm just focusing on the doing as of now, because regardless of my major, the "doing" will always be marketable and important. I don't think my reasons for studying medicine were ever even very strong. Things are volatile and tentative right now, which makes me feel like I'm walking on eggshells, but I'll figure it sooner or later.
Essentially, all my ramblings in this post can be summed up with the words of one of my favorite authors: "Education is an admirable thing, but it is well to remember from time to time that nothing that is worth knowing can be taught."

10/7, no. 52

My roommate (largely my primary source of socialization) is out at a Yom Kippur service so tonight is just me and a large cardboard box.
According to an article on HubPages, here are my options:
1. Cut windows and door holes in it. Instant house!
2. Open-side up: Go for a boat ride!
3. Hide in the box, crouching, open side up.
4. Walk around your home with the box over your head so that you cannot see.
5. Open-side down: New kitchen table!
6. Don't have pants? Cut a hole the size of your waist in the bottom of the box. Then wear it! It's just like pants, only better because it's a box!
7. Call your friends and tell them to come over, because you have a big surprise. Then show them the box!
8. Invent a new sport or game!
9. Ring neighbors' doorbells, holding box. Ask them if they lost their box.
10. Keep stuff in it.
Although this list becomes progressively lame, it boosts my self-esteem by making me feel somewhat creative. It's going to be an interesting night.

10/4, no. 51

Premise: I'm a student not of the current "omg look at me I'm taking so many pictures in college of me and alllllll my new friends, look at us here at parties omg greek life omg football games omg night out haaaa i'm having so much more fun at college than you are!" trend. Sometimes I envy those who publicize their great and fun new lives, but I'm not going to pretend that I'm having a blast. I'm not. I have fun here and there, but in many ways has UPS surprised me (unfortunately for the worse).

First, the University of Puget Sound is a nationally ranked liberal arts school in the Pacific northwest. The campus sits in an awfully suburban area of Tacoma, which lies about 30-40 minutes away from Seattle. Luckily, the campus is beautiful, but as aesthetically pleasing as UPS is, it is still very physically small, which means two things: yes, you don't mind staying on campus, but its location renders it too easy to get stuck in a suffocating bubble. Moreover, the school (although private) runs on an extremely tight budget, as UPS is virtually in debt. I feel like the cause of this is because UPS offers immense amounts of scholarships, which is good, but in the long run it often seems as though public schools offer more opportunities and services than UPS (lack of transportation, relatively large class sizes even for a liberal arts school, etc).

Second, UPS is a liberal arts college. Liberal arts schools are notorious for harvesting a collective student body that emanates two things: diversity and a love for learning, neither of which can be easily found here. It's essentially a slightly more mature version of high school. UPS seems very hypocritical to me in that the school prides itself on diversity. Sure, there are tons of students who differentiate from one another in sexual orientation, but in terms of ethnicity? Not so much. Moreover, I have only met a select few students (in all grades) who have really showed a love for learning. Everyone else seems to be on one set major tract, complaining about all other required classes, which in itself is a direct contradiction to the philosophy of a liberal arts education.

In short, UPS may have the best intentions, pride that brags about their quintessential liberal arts approaches, and advertisements that boast diversity, but ultimately the school falls short on all three. Because of this, in March I will apply to transfer to eight schools, primarily in the east coast.

Don't worry, Boston, I haven't forgotten about you.

I'll probably be posting another blog post soon, one that appropriately summarizes my issue with choosing the right major. Until then.

10/2, no. 50

50th post. Hurrah.

A word about guilty pleasures: I'm full of them. 'Party in the USA' by Miley Cyrus, 'Too Cool' from Disney Channel's Camp Rock, ABC Family's Pretty Little Liars, 90210 on CBS, Give Me Everything by Pitbull...but they're just biting my nails, they're French fries from McDonald's, they're bean and cheese burritos with extra guacamole from my favorite Mexican joint, Pedro's.

10/2, no. 49

The absence of my roommate on Friday night left me with immense hours of pure solitude and free time. I stayed up until 4:30am (a recurring weekend trend apparently) cleaning the dorm to perfection so as to surprise Rachel, and with the few extra empty hours I lazed around researching internships, crafting my own personal letter of inquiry, watching Mad Men and It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia (two great watches, by the way), and listening to/watching/feverishly stalking Adele and the beauty that is her voice. I also made an attempt at writing a blog post, during which I had to stop because I couldn't handle the incredible artificiality that emanated in my blogged voice. I also had to stop because I realized that I tend to write extremely long, run-on sentences - just a bad habit, you'll find me doing that quite often (exhibit A: second sentence of this blog post).
Anyway, Friday night was good and it actually really made me feel somewhat at home (finally) with all the freedom to do whatever as I was completely alone in my living quarters. I read books and course requirements and other helpful sources that allowed me to narrow in on what I want to do in life (that's what it was! I was blogging about my problems in deciding a major because I had so many issues with chem this week...note to self, Ashley, you write HORRIBLY when you're stressed and wired). And I concluded that it's okay if I am not completely sure as to what I want to do right now, but seeing as how I started the year with the intention of completing a pre-med-based course requirement schedule, I'm going to finish the semester completing the hell out of those requirements. So I made an elaborate plan to sleep in on Saturday (yesterday) and get shit done.
But instead...I went to a cheese festival, a thrift store, and a cupcake shop, during which I planned to study like hell Saturday night (last night).
But instead...I imbibed in my first glass of college. Vodka in teacups while discussing Russian history with my roommate and two other friends wasn't a bad idea. The entire time I was amazed at how quickly alcohol affects the body, and I kept trying to look that up, and I was both amazed and embarrassed at the rapid effects of Asian glow, and I kept laughing at everything, and I kept announcing that I had to document the moment because it was my first time drinking in college so I wrote in my journal in front of everyone and I took a couple pictures.
No, I did not get drunk. I still hate the taste of alcohol. I only had a little bit (the equivalent of 1 1/2 shots, apparently) which was enough to make me giggle obnoxiously at everything. But I made people give me math problems to ensure I was alright. Okay, there we go - I've discovered something about myself: I'm lightweight. Laugh all ya want.
I now have a closer understanding of why people drink. I probably won't do it too often. I really don't like the taste.

On another note, I made (and by 'made' I mean 'threw a frozen pre-made platter into the microwave') paneer tikka masala with spinach basmati rice last night, and it was absolutely delicious.
On another note, I made (same definition of 'made' as above) samosas...and they were subpar, unfortunately. At least this will make me appreciate samosas at decent Indian restaurants more.
On another note, I already knew this part before but I must broadcast: Masala flavored naan and spicy hummus from Trader Joe's...the two foods that comprise my new 'eat good shit' diet.