Who knew Tuesday nights could be so fun?

Yesterday I made sure to get my paper edited and printed out before 6 and all my assigned reading for the evening had already been completed. Now if you should know anything about me, it is this: I hate the majority of school work and am an expert at procrastination.

While I felt somewhat dirty finishing work with time to spare, it was for a good purpose. Death Cab for Cutie was playing here (RaRa Riot was opening), I had a wristband to get in, and I was going to sing and dance so much that I knew I would not be able to properly function afterwards.

Have you ever been to a concert and, in a soul-crushing moment of clarity, realize that the band doesn’t sound nearly as good as they do on their CD? Well, that wasn’t the case with DCFC. The concert was amazing. They played a good amount of my favorite songs (Summer Skin, Soul meets Body, Crooked Teeth, etc) and did justice to some of their bigger hits – especially “I will possess your heart”.

I have a problem when it comes to going to concerts –I’m short. At concerts such as this where there is a large crowd between me and the band, it is always a struggle for me to see the concert. Girls, this is where having three extremely tall guy friends comes in handy. The three guys I went to the concert with are all at least a good 8 inches taller than me (one of them is over a foot taller than me). This was such a blessing because they were able to lift me up to better see the stage from time to time.

One thing I don’t understand about people at concerts is how they can just stand still, arms crossed, and only listen to the music. I remember looking around the crowd and seeing very few people even tapping their toes or nodding their head along to the music. I screamed over the music to my friend “HOW CAN THESE PEOPLE STAND STILL?” as I danced, probably looking like a complete idiot, but loving every second of it. Albeit, some of DCFC’s tunes are a little slow and depressing, so I excuse people from not dancing to those. But come on people! How can you not want to dance with all the energy on stage when the band is playing “No Sunlight”? Do you know how ridiculous you look when you just stand there? What are you doing? Absorbing the music? Try FEELING it!

One really surprising thing about the concert was the crowd that it drew. Of course, more of the emo and indie kids were there, but I was pleasantly surprised at how very few people were smoking weed. At almost every huge concert I’ve been to, there has been an ample amount of ganja going around – so the fact that very few people attempted to smuggle in some pot was a point of interest for me. Its more than likely that many of them drank and/or smoked before coming to the concert, but I was glad to see that a good amount of people were there to actually enjoy the music and could do so while being sober.

I think my favorite thing about going to concerts is the connection you feel with a band’s music after hearing them perform it live. I felt this way after seeing Aerosmith a few years back – all their songs are much more appealing and meaningful to me. The same goes for Cake, Jon McLaughlin, Hellogoodbye, and all the other bands I’ve seen. Now I most definitely feel that way about Death Cab for Cutie. Before the concert I wasn’t very partial to their sadder sounding stuff (which is the majority of their music), often skipping over tracks such as “Transatlanticism”, in favor of songs like “All is Full of Love”. But now all of their stuff sounds amazing and all day I’ve been delving into all their music with enthusiasm.

Alright, this post has gone on for too long – I’m going to go chill out to some DCFC. :)

Soldiers in the Congo

Today I attended a presentation given by a former child solider from the Congo and a man that works with her to spread awareness of the topic. Of course, I’ve heard of other countries and their uses of child armies, but I had never heard of girls being forced to serve in the army.

The speakers’ stories, and the two short films that were played, were both fascinating and heartbreaking. The girl who spoke today was kidnapped at the age of eleven and forced to serve in the army. But there are other young girls who decide, on their own, to go. This was shocking to me – why would any young girl feel that she needs or even wants to join an army?

I plan on doing some research in the new future and finding out how I can become involved in putting an end to this nightmarish situation.

Languages are my passion

I have a goal to learn 7 languages by the time I’m 30. I know, I know…that seems like a bit of a lofty goal, but I’m part way there!

If I put a lot of effort into it (but knowing me and my lazy ways, I won’t) I could quite possibly have those 7 languages down by the time I’m 25.

I’ve studied French since freshman year of high school and am now conversationally fluent, I’m currently taking German classes, I’m in the process of learning American Sign Language (which does count as a language in my mind), and next year I’ll be learning Italian. So there’s 4 languages. Add my native language, English, and you have 5. After returning from Italy next year, I plan on taking some Spanish classes (language #6). Finally I’ll attempt to pick Portuguese or Japanese – I’m still undecided about which one to learn – to achieve my goal of 7 languages.
Now many people ask, as you may, what I plan on doing with all these languages. To that question I reply: I have no idea.

How do people ever get anything done when there is gelato and sorbet to be eaten?

Oh my goodness. It’s as if the universe decided to drop a little miracle in the downtown area. I must have done something really good and racked up some good karma points because I just experienced the best sorbet ever. My friend and I ventured into a little Gelato shop last night that neither of us had ever been to. When we walked in my eyes must have bulged out of my head because the ice cream looked surreal – there were so many colors and exciting flavors lined up behind the glass counter that it looked like something out of Willy Wonka’s factory.

I’m lactose intolerant (and very bitter about the fact, especially when I find myself in the gelato shop from heaven) so I only focused on their sorbets. They had mango, lemon, raspberry, chocolate, and pear flavored sorbets. So amazing! I must have sampled all the sorbets 3 times each before finally deciding on raspberry. It was perhaps the most satisfying thing I’ve eaten in a year.

Last night I dreamt of the sorbet…I woke up this morning craving some chocolate sorbet, but was thoroughly disappointed when I opened my freezer only to find a box of frozen chicken breasts and four microwave dinners. I have a feeling I’ll be making a trip downtown this evening….

Enligtenment is just a couple reincarnations away

I remain unconvinced that the Dalai Lama is just a person like me. Contrary to what he said in his talks that I listened to today, I think that when someone reaches enlightenment, they cease to be different from the normal human being. Being able to feel only compassion for people who want to kill you seems a little God-like to me.

Regardless of whether the Dalai Lama is human or not, I do think everyone could learn a lot from his teachings. I’ve been a fan of his philosophies for years and hearing him speak this morning was a treat. If only everyone were willing to put aside their trivial differences, open their hearts to their fellow human beings, and feel compassion for others, the world would most definitely be a better place…is an overnight spiritual revolution too much to ask of humanity?

I must say, I was pleasantly surprised when I found out that thousands of students here were interested in hearing him speak. Perhaps there is more common sense and decency here than meets the eye.

After his speeches were done, I sat in meditation for a few minutes in an attempt to sort out some of my own emotional issues and hopefully get a little bit closer to nirvana. Needless to say I remain unenlightened, but I think I’m making some progress.

One midterm short of a heart attack

In an hour I have a midterm that counts for 25% of my grade in the class. I feel horribly unprepared even though I have studied to the best of my ability for it. I don’t think I’ve ever felt confident going into a test of any sort – I always fear for the worst. More often than not this fear has served me well. I study more than I need to for tests, always feeling like I could have a better grasp on the material ; as a result I end up with A’s and B’s.

However, I can feel this habitual stress wearing down on my body and my health. My stomach does flip-flops before any sort of exam. However, I don’t mind giving presentations or writing term papers because those tasks are designed to let me plan ahead and perfect the assignment before it is actually due. But tests challenge me to think of the spot and recall from memory. I don’t have the comfort and luxury of referring back to notes or a textbook.

In a way I envy the majority of the students around me who studied for an hour or so and, upon sitting down in class before a test, don’t seem at all intimidated by the fact that very shortly they’ll be expected to answer 100 questions in 50 minutes. Of course in these situations I want to do well and am glad I studied, but the idea that someone could actually feel prepared for a test and not have a nervous stomach ache just seems too surreal for an over achiever like me.

After this test, I’m done with class for the week. Finally…I am in serious need of some relaxation.

Party Town

This town is a noisy one. Friday evening rolls around and you can forget about having a quiet evening in and watching a movie in the peace of your own apartment because outside – not only in your apartment complex but for a quarter of a mile radius – all hell is breaking loose. A twenty person game of beer pong is taking place next-door, a techno dance party from the floor above causes your head to pound with the unnecessarily loud bass, and drunken students in the street break out into a fight below your window, all the while screaming obscenities and smashing empty beer bottles on the ground. After somehow finding a way to relax and fall asleep amongst all this mayhem, you awake in the morning to see that the usual beer cans floating in the pool are accompanied by three bikes and a lawn chair. Weekends like this force me to ask myself the question: what the hell am I doing at this school?

I’m not the typical college girl. At least not the kind of girl you’d find here at one of the biggest party schools in the nation. I’m full of these ridiculous things called “morals” and would rather read a book than go out to a party and drink until I pass out, throw up, or lose all my common sense. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy going out and being social, but this backdrop of a carefree life of alcohol and sex isn’t exactly my scene.

So what am I doing at this school? Wouldn’t I be better off at a school where the student body places more importance on intellect than how many shots of vodka one can take? Yes and no. I originally came here because I did not get into Stanford or Berkeley. This was a safety school for me. I often find myself thinking that had I applied to other schools or gone to a university that was in a more cultured and diverse city I would be happier and have more mental stimulation. But, against all odds, I have come to love this school and the life I have created for myself here. I have friends I love and an exciting life I am proud of. Had it not been for the extreme environment here, I doubt that I would have become the person I am today.

So even though the partiers in the street disturb my sleep multiple times a week, I have to love them for teaching me exactly who I am and who I don’t want to be.