Roomies

The Killers are playing, wailing out their Sawdust album. My head is bobbing, and I'm flopped on my bed. I'm totally engrossed in my writing, eyes intent on my laptop screen. The musical notes weave into my thoughts, keeping them on a tempo. I am totally in the zone, and the words fly from my fingertips without hesitation. The music is the rhythm, the story creates the melody. Somebody walks into my room, singing along to some teenybopper tune. My sister. The precious few moments in my thought bubble are ruptured, all ideas gone back to hiding, leaving my head empty. Immediately, disharmony erupts between my sister and me. The glares begin and our music engages in a battle of rock alternative and pop. Notes ricochet off one another, leaving the battle to end in silence as our headphones are plugged in.

At some point, most people end up sharing a room. If not during one's childhood, then during the college years. Sometimes its nice; there's always someone within close pranking distance. Other times, it can suck. If you want space, there's no use hunkering up in your room. You are never alone. 

The same goes for working on a story. Writing a story requires mind space, full knowledge of your characters, awareness of the story left to tell. Writing a story is a lot like sharing a room--your brain room.

Generally, writers love what they do: writing. It's fun and liberating and a great outlet for the creative mind. It is likely safe to say that writers are at peace with writing. Writers tell stories, and let their stories make their home in their brain. Having those stories to sink into is nice. They provide entertainment, hours of it, and an escape from stress. Much like a friend, one could surmise. Or much like a roommate.

However, there are times when the story rears its head, and the writer charges the untamed beast with malevolent intentions. This is a way to characterize writer's block. There is the story, being a little piece of angst--a cat? Yes, a cat, scratching at the owner every time they come near. After some time sharing the same space, the writer and, yes, the story become a bit irritable. And then when the writer seeks an escape from the story, it strolls in, removing all sense of privacy. You are never alone. But never being alone can be good. Having the story always take up space can be a nuisance, but when the writer needs it most, it is there to pick up the pieces. Best. Roommate. Ever.

Fangirl and the New Year

Some of you may be aware that I have been working on a little thing called the Bookworm Project. In short, it is my way of getting back into the bookworm groove by reading a new book every month and then vlogging about it. This month, I read Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell.

Fangirl centers around Cath, a girl starting her first year in college. Her and her twin sister, Wren, are both huge fans of Simon Snow. Simon Snow is a book series turned movie series franchise, constructed to be a parallel to what Harry Potter is in our world. Cath and Wren have all the merch any huge fan could think of, and have authored their own fanfic. But when they go to college, Wren moves on from the fandom, and Cath clings to it. Cath is immensely overwhelmed by the huge change in her life that is college, independence, and new people. Throughout the story, Cath realizes that in order to begin weaving her own story, she may have to leave Simon Snow behind.

A fangirl in her natural environment.

I think I ran into this book at quite an opportune time. I will be moving off to college next year, I'm a huge fangirl, and some days, strikingly similar to Cath. I have talked about fandom before and how it lets us escape to another world, if only for a few minutes. So many people, particularly teenagers, find refuge in stories. Having this sort of escape can be nice, but sometimes it brings us too far from reality. We can get so wrapped up in a fictional universe that we forget to step out into the world and live a little. As Dumbledore said, "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

I, like Cath, will sometimes face great change through a sort of film; move to China, for example, and I will watch ten seasons of Classic Doctor Who. When Cath moves to college, she delves deeper into the Simon Snow fandom, simply because the pressure and the change is too much. My way of avoiding thinking about decisions for college was watching copious amounts of Doctor Who and sitcoms. But if anything, rather than a momentary escape to clear your head, too much fandom can cause you more anxiety. It becomes a vicious cycle: stressed, escape, stay in escape too long, repeat. The only way out is to face the world, head on.

And yes, I will connect this to the new year. Sure, you can set goals at any time of your life; there's no need for a party at midnight and the turn of time. But the new year is a celebration, marking yet another revolution of the Earth around the Sun. It's all big and astronomical and beyond what we could possible imagine. Perhaps it is the notion that we are still here, still evolving, still putting one foot in front of the other that makes this particular evening like a great jumping point for any goal. In any case, watching Cath deal with her stress in the same way I sometimes do was enlightening and reinvigorating. I could relate to her situation. More importantly, I could watch it from afar, gaining a better perspective. Fandom will always be there, but the world will not.

Watch Fangirl book review video here.

Feminism, Dancers, Media, Oh My!

This is actually a piece I submitted to a writing challenge at Brown University's feminist magazine, Young Bluestockings. High school students across the states were invited to write on a feminist related topic and submit their work. Every writer would receive feedback on their piece. I have published here the original. I got some amazing feedback, but haven't been able to organize my thoughts and further work on the piece (ugh, writer's block). However, here is the final I submitted to the challenge. Tell me what you think, or simply enjoy the words.

My prompt: How have media and popular culture (i.e. films, music, art, TV shows, etc.) affected the way you view and relate to yourself?

Long legs twirl and leap across the rubber floor. Leg warmers decorate semi-injured ankles and knees, and white tulle floats around the room. I watch, fascinated, as the rehearsing bodies keep in time with the music. My brain automatically names each step as it is performed. Chasse, relevé arabesque, susú, bourre; into the center of the studio and away goes a circle of dancers. As the music begins to close, I turn to face the giant mirror covering the studio’s front wall to get a broader view. The movement slows, and the dancers take up their final positions, poised to bow.

I go into class next, hair tucked in a bun and the rest of my dancing gear on. I take one peek in the mirror, and within seconds every flaw becomes painfully visible. Feet just a bit too small, legs long, but not lean enough, and that annoying little pocket of fat that resides in the lower tummy disrupts what could have been perfectly flat abs. Not good enough, and the frustration begins. These were my older days as a dancer. The daily self-criticism was a constant, and being midway through my teenage phase, not helpful in or out of the studio. This leads to some severe cases of what dancers call “Ballet Fever”.

Simply put, ballet fever is a sort of ballet high, specifically in focusing all of your energy to living like a dancer: rehearse for hours a day, eat yogurt to treat yourself, and do pilates and yoga in your free time. Going professional in the dance world means total dedication to the art, and often leaving your previously ‘human’ life. The year I turned sixteen was the year I went through some near-extreme cases of this ballet fever, and when I began paying attention to the media in the ballet world and the human world.

First and foremost: dancers are thin. The pros are pure, lean muscle. When you look at models shown in women’s magazines, they are all limber, with nothing extra on their bones. This automatically makes women set an unrealistic bar for what they themselves should look like. Like in ballet fever, women begin to obsess over what they eat, how they work out, and what they see in the mirror. Some say you can’t leave the dance world unscarred; I say you can’t leave the newsstand unscarred.

Of course, I was one of these misinformed women for a while. I read magazines for beauty tips (oh yeah, a blemish free face was a piece of work for a sixteen year old kid) and watched YouTube videos galore of dancers all over the world. I cried internally every time I watched a Russian perform; their technique is unmatched. I needed to be thinner. I needed to look like this image of beautiful given to me by popular media. I needed to be something I believed I was not.

Ballet had always been a safe haven, until media twisted it, making it perverse. I have been a dancer for twelve years now, always dancing out of my love for it. Thoughts of a professional career with it never quite crossed my mind until I was twelve, but at that age, I hardly paid any attention to the media (I was too busy reading Harry Potter, duh). However, when I did begin to see these pictures of perfectly sculpted models, I was disheartened. Naturally, I saw what I did not have. I got so caught up in the vanity of it all, that for a long time, I forgot why I danced. It took eight months for me to learn to be happy with myself: a summer staycation and a semester abroad.

Instead of spending 200 hours of July in the dance studio, I became a teenager, and built something pretty novel to me at the time—a social life. I made more time for friends, all the time reveling in our love for all things nerdy. It was a really nice break, and I think a well-deserved one. Stepping away from the dance world not only eased my aching muscles, but also ripped away some of the expectations I had set for myself in what I should look like. The end of the summer brought about the beginning of a thrilling new adventure. As my friends began their junior year in high school, I was flying across the Atlantic to live with a host family in Spain.

Now, in Europe, a majority of the people are very much in shape. They have access to fresh foods, walk everywhere, and lead much less stressful lives than the average American. But what was considered ‘in shape’ was far more diverse than what you would find in the United States. You had really thin people (as it happens, I fit right into this category) and then average sized people. All were considered in shape, and something beautiful.

In short, living the Spanish life for a few months, relaxed and healthy, proved quite therapeutic. I was happier, and by the time I left, could look in the mirror and smile. We were not all built to be size two ballerinas; what makes the human race so great is the diversity of our genes. It’s time we embrace our diversity, and diversify what counts as beautiful. And, in the wise words of Eleanor Roosevelt, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”

The Nutcracker

Amongst the many whimsical tidings of the Christmas season is the renowned ballet, The Nutcracker. Tchaikovsky's music is known to populations all around the world. In case you do not know what the Nutcracker is about, it follows a young girl named Clara, and her dream after a Christmas Party. For the first time in twelve years, I managed to land myself in a ballet studio that performs the Nutcracker in December (I still want to get one of those "My first Nutcracker" onesies). The ballet itself is a pleasure to perform, but the stress kicks in when theatre week begins. 

Theatre week, in a nutshell, is the week leading up to the show. There are rehearsals every single day, for a few hours. By the end of the week, and the final performance, there is total relief. I'm still sore, and probably will be for the next couple of days.

The funny thing about ballet, however, is that it is so engrossing, impassioned, and fun (in my case) that a few days without a single dance class or rehearsal is just devastating. Perhaps not devastating, but along the lines of what-do-I-do-with-my-life-now-this-is-too-weird. Dance is one of the greater parts of my life. It has become so built-in to my personal culture that not dancing is just...weird. But often, I get wrapped up in other stresses. Then life kind of plummets, spiraling into a numbing schedule. The routine is a killer of joy, as well as purpose. I have danced for so long that a couple of times I have become so swept up in doing everything right, mounting all stress and anxiety humanly possible onto already laden shoulders.

Passion for a particular activity+incomprehensible stress=forgetting why you do said activity

And of course, once I care more about doing things right than enjoying myself, I create my own personal black hole. Into the hole goes inspiration, happiness, passion, hope. It really sucks. Which is why, every once in a while, take a day off. Go sit in the woods, or hike a mountain, or sit on the back porch with your cat. Clear the mind. Remember why it is you write or dance or hunt or do anything. Make sure you aren't spending greater parts of your energy on things that don't really matter, or aren't devoting enough of your time to something you actually care about. When it's show time, show the world passion and joy, and they shall be entertained.

Christmas Jumper Day

The holidays are drawing near, and in most cultures, it's about time for some vacation and a bit of celebration. My house is decorated, the malls are plastered with sales. For the fellow citizen of the Northern hemisphere, the temperature outside is just a bit below freezing-your-butt-off degrees Fahrenheit. Of course, all this cold weather calls for a few things, like hot chocolate and a seat by a warm fireplace. There's nothing quite like huddling up with your friends and family on an evening in the snow. There's also nothing quite so itch-inducing and warm as a wool sweater, which brings me to Christmas Jumper Day.

Christmas Jumper Day, happening today, right now, in the UK, is how Save the Children is raising money this holiday season. Save the Children (a charity whose purpose I shall explain further in a moment) is encouraging people to wear a Christmas 'jumper', and to donate one pound if you do. All of this money goes to providing children in developing countries with life saving services (food or clothing, even education).

I learned about this event through BBC's Sherlock (another piece of evidence that fandom can change the world). I thought it was really cool. Get people to become more aware of a charity's presence, as well as more aware of situations in developing countries? Heck yeah, that's awesome. Not gonna lie, I did eventually go out to get my own 'jumper' (I was conveniently already in need of a warmer sweater). And I wore it, absolutely warmed by the garment itself and the message carried with it: save the children.

Some people will complain that most people throw their money at charities purely to feel good about themselves. These people can be designated as the 'no hopers'. Yes, there may just be a population of people with no true sense of giving. However, to those no hopers, I give you a story that may just give you a bit more hope for the human race (or perhaps that there are still people who simply do the right thing. Your pick).

I was driving to the mall just after a class this morning. At the intersection before hopping on the highway, there was a bit of a mishap. I'm not sure if they ran out of gas or killed the engine and the cold wasn't very accommodating in the effort to restart it. Whatever the case, they were blocking a lane of cars from getting through the intersection. One guy was in the car steering and his buddy was trying to push the car by himself. At this point, I have just pulled up to the light, am about to hop out of my car, when I notice some fabulousness. Not one, not two, but three people were walking out of their cars to help out. Needless to say, I drove away, unable to keep a smile off my face.

The 'Bookworm Project'

A few months ago, I talked about a plan to read a book every month, and then proceed to review each book in the form of a vlog. I kept up with it! Since August, I've read and reviewed four books, having just received the fifth in the mail today (con to buying books for the love of books: you end up with a teetering stack of them on your bedside table). The experience so far has been really great. Over time, my 'vlogging skills' have gotten much better (you can tell). With my internship doing video production, the video editing bit I think has improved. I have gotten back to my bookworm-y self as well (virtual high fives anyone?)

Basically, I am very excited to share what I have done so far. So for this post, I will be providing mini-reviews of each book I read in their written and vlog forms.

Book 1: Paper Towns. Paper Towns is a young adult fiction novel written by John Green. The story follows high school senior, Quentin, better known as Q by his friends, and the mysterious Margo Roth Spiegelman. Q's life, in a word, is boring. He has a routine, he knows what he will be up to next; nothing out of the ordinary is really 'penciled in' to his schedule. Margo, however, is iconic. She's popular, goes off to who-knows-where days at a time just for the heck of it, and is basically a plot twist waiting to spring any moment. After Margo and Q go on a little adventure, Q learns that Margo's identity as a person is totally obscured from reality. This is a great book, quite witty on all accounts. The plot keeps the reader engrossed throughout, as it has a vibe of mystery.

Book 2: The Scarlet Letter. The Scarlet Letter, by Nathaniel Hawthorne, is an American classic. The story itself takes place in the early days of settlements in the New World in the town of Salem (right by Boston). Big thing to know: religion plays a huge role in how the people in the town make their choices and how the laws were, at the time, written. A woman, by the name of Hester Prynne, commits the crime of adultery, and is forced to wear a scarlet letter 'A' on her breast forever. Background on Hester: she was once married. However, when her husband was crossing the sea from England to the New World, he disappeared, presumed dead. A new man comes into town when Hester receives her punishment, and is intent on finding the man Hester slept with. A lot of schools require this book in language arts courses. I will admit, there is a lot more depth in this book than I had anticipated. The language can get cumbersome for the younger, more modern mind, but this is book worthy of attention.

Can you tell I had too much fun with thumbnails?

Book 3: The End Games. The End Games is a zombie novel written by T. Michael Martin. The zombie apocalypse has taken over the world from what brothers Patrick (five years old) and Michael (seventeen years old) have seen. Ever since Halloween, they have been running. They receive instructions from the Game Master, and find themselves part of The Game. If they follow the rules, they can get to the Safe Zone, but when they come across other survivors, the rules begin to change. This is the first zombie novel I have ever read, and it was amazing. It was totally plottwist-y. Right when you were sure you knew where the story was going BAM--the story veers into a totally unprecedented direction. Great suspense from beginning to end, more than just gore, and a pretty great start to T. Michael Martin's career as an author (should he continue to write books).

Book 4: The Fault in our Stars. The Fault in our Stars is the most recent book by John Green. We are introduced to sixteen year old Hazel Lancaster, a girl diagnosed with terminal cancer. At the age of thirteen was when she was first diagnosed, but a miracle drug extended her life a bit. Hazel carries around an oxygen tank 24/7 to keep her lungs going, and stays home a lot. This is primarily because she does not go to regular school, due to cancer, and tends to keep to herself...also because of the cancer. Her mother has her attend a Cancer Support group every week, and it is at one of these meetings that we meet Augustus Waters, the boy that will change her life forever. I thought this book was beautiful, on the grounds that it was funny, but tragic, totally satisfying, but leaving the reader hungry for more. It is an impressive story, philosophical, witty, heart-wrenching, entirely bittersweet and perfect in every way. Read it.

The video embed isn't working too well, so click here to see the Book Review for The Fault in our Stars.

On Leadership

Most of us have at least a couple of memories from the playground days. And most of us will remember that one girl who bossed all the other kids around. This girl was superbly annoying, like in-your-face-my-way-or-the-highway kind of annoying. She sought for order amongst her playground subjects and her high throne was the best swing on the set (her name having been etched on the bottom of the rubber seat. Ownership rights right there). This girl was me. At least five year old me, when I ran crying to my father that my neighborhood buddies "wouldn't do what I said!"

While I no longer expect people to do as I say, and my labeled swing is half a country away, I have become a bit of a leader in and out of school (I prefer the term 'instigator', as 'leader' sounds a bit pompous and 'instigator' has a bit of a fun factor to it.) As I have moved into this sort of role, I have learned a lot, and have plenty more to learn still. Leadership is so much more than directing groups of people or looking fabulous. What's more, leaders are nothing without the team of people that helped make things happen in the first place. When so many people are relying on you to have all the answers, the stress is enormous.

In my school, I have started an online magazine (the name? East Coast Instigator). My school focuses on students building an education around their passions, and real world learning. Unfortunately, most high schoolers seeking a writing internship are disappointed by futile searches for opportunity. What my magazine serves to do is provide a platform where students can exhibit their writing, opinions, and art work. Students get to have their work published and build a writing portfolio that can hopefully get them their dream internship, proving themselves as writers. Of course, keeping a team of students together, and everyone meeting their deadlines, and work going missing... It gets a bit hairy (welcome to the world of publishing.) I've had difficulty motivating students to get work in on time, but it has gotten better. Being in charge is stressful. There is the meticulous planning of meetings, things going awry. What I have learned here is that having the power to give others assignments means nothing until they are actually motivated to do it themselves; essentially, they do it because they want to.

Really, I think that is the key to good 'leadership'. If you can get someone to do what you want without having to make them do it, you've done something right. And often, like me, people get thrown into these roles. Maybe my background as Ruler of the Cul-de-sac and the Supreme Reign on the Playground remained just under the surface, causing me to be thrown into the hot seat. I guess things began to click when the bossy five year old girl was thrown right into her element. In the ever wise words of Dumbledore, "Those who, like you, have leadership thrust upon them, and take up the mantle because they must...find to their own surprise that they wear it well."