tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65513183446128456792024-03-19T02:28:08.886-07:00All The Things I Never Saywritings about life, university, growing up, the whole shebang. leggo.Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6551318344612845679.post-42157957321879698482022-11-17T22:20:00.003-08:002022-11-17T22:39:39.209-08:00Anxiety Brain and Me<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-family: arial;">I’m finally putting into words what anxiety feels like for me.<br /></span></b><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Sometime <a href="https://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2020/05/the-uncharted-territory-of-my-20s.html" target="_blank">in my 20s</a>, I dug up my anxiety and have been trying to bury it ever since. Unsuccessfully so, I might add.<br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNLU4bNGHXJKX5fGkDw3ufb6CS7avkBzw_c4TpnwNmwSZmDHlZGH_9IlgpRlcFtJZnmt60gcJ-0nIKawnwt35KV2hF3JxKbBQVBgxdzkTNnXZnNejoCCsRDw6n44GCc1PfMa8FLboCto0q4slPtOf1uz9HOf75YuP2Y44XnZ6yXO9w6Y8bJoc3PO6l/s6720/sleigh-ride-silhouette.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4480" data-original-width="6720" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNLU4bNGHXJKX5fGkDw3ufb6CS7avkBzw_c4TpnwNmwSZmDHlZGH_9IlgpRlcFtJZnmt60gcJ-0nIKawnwt35KV2hF3JxKbBQVBgxdzkTNnXZnNejoCCsRDw6n44GCc1PfMa8FLboCto0q4slPtOf1uz9HOf75YuP2Y44XnZ6yXO9w6Y8bJoc3PO6l/w400-h266/sleigh-ride-silhouette.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">what you don't see is that hours before this photo<br />was taken, I was an anxious lil cookie.<br />(PC: John Cassidy)</td></tr></tbody></table>It has become a project of sorts, something I will stop at nothing to fix. I started therapy. Still anxious. Started praying more. Still anxious. Started back running. And reading. And resting. Still anxious. Tried setting boundaries and saying no. Still anxious. Learned to listen to myself and ask for breaks. I meditated and partied, then realized partying wasn’t the answer, then spent more time laying in the sun listening to music and napping and enjoying nature and, guess what, still anxious. Moved back <a href="https://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2022/08/why-you-coming-back-to-trinidad.html" target="_blank">home</a> (big win!) and I STILL GET ANXIOUS.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br />Given the number of times I’ve googled anxiety symptoms by now, I should be able to rest assured that I am not alone. Anxiety is common and there is nothing wrong with me. And yet!</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br />My experience doesn't exactly match the google searches. I still haven’t found the article or scientific study or Reddit post that perfectly fits what I feel.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br />The internet <a href="https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/323454#symptoms" target="_blank">describes</a> incessant worrying and unease that affect your daily functioning. At what point would I characterize my anxiety as affecting my daily functioning? What if my anxiety comes in bursts, when I'm overthinking and alone? How is it possible to feel so anxious at some times and so normal at others?</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgium8LXd0lRxkz-kLkSGHg_DjbRvTu0qbNdhrIYI4RbDNfulXWeuuSFhVU4rEvWoa8w4ywnSLVlwdJgzjKoGlF3R1T1k_7wef8MUzBJD0-ONRl3TIhAXvs5D5yvTt3LB-U4X_hz-7Gf2rijQsBweXzkjbzemoptRT_xG_WhWfF3YOUggStf6kJYYFe/s4032/portola-valley.HEIC" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgium8LXd0lRxkz-kLkSGHg_DjbRvTu0qbNdhrIYI4RbDNfulXWeuuSFhVU4rEvWoa8w4ywnSLVlwdJgzjKoGlF3R1T1k_7wef8MUzBJD0-ONRl3TIhAXvs5D5yvTt3LB-U4X_hz-7Gf2rijQsBweXzkjbzemoptRT_xG_WhWfF3YOUggStf6kJYYFe/w400-h300/portola-valley.HEIC" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here is a nature pic for good vibes.<br />Portola Valley, California (2021)</td></tr></tbody></table><br />These are the questions I haven’t found answers to.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br />They always say to write the book you’d want to read. So here I go, writing the blog post I haven’t read, instead of depending on the internet to validate my experience.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br />This is what anxiety feels like for me.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">***</span><br /><span><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">For one, my anxiety doesn't come everyday, but when it shows up, it's hard to ignore.</span> </span><span style="font-size: medium;">Anxiety brain, as I like to call her, is like the devil on my shoulder fighting for my attention when I’m just trying to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=koVHN6eO4Xg" target="_blank">live my life</a>.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br />Anxiety brain feeds on my insecurities, amplifies them, and uses them to drown out my gratitude and blessings. She surfs on the waves of my hormones, riding the highs and lows of my moods.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; font-size: large;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlBs7xv0nv7tqMG5JLDk6ZfYiHHkWqQ9hCiDfl0Dd3TgZmvxeD4IscKeRvHI9uQrT8LhdoiDUqxrGe7HGTRgT3x_6J5zwaTHi_oc-Eag9SUwOdIXqk5cgrRXrJppzJysueTscOdXJ-vCkKFIslnU3yuQI6FjLlgNoZfrhv5s-Qacp4Uu9OCja9azTl/s4032/yosemite3.HEIC" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlBs7xv0nv7tqMG5JLDk6ZfYiHHkWqQ9hCiDfl0Dd3TgZmvxeD4IscKeRvHI9uQrT8LhdoiDUqxrGe7HGTRgT3x_6J5zwaTHi_oc-Eag9SUwOdIXqk5cgrRXrJppzJysueTscOdXJ-vCkKFIslnU3yuQI6FjLlgNoZfrhv5s-Qacp4Uu9OCja9azTl/w400-h300/yosemite3.HEIC" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yosemite, California. (2022)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">She creates mountains out of molehills and sends scapegoats out to graze.</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> It’s disgusting, really, the way she tries to sabotage the good things in my life then look for someone or something to blame it on.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br />Anxiety brain makes me doubt whether I can do this whole live-and-work-and-provide-for-yourself-and-your-family-for-the-rest-of-your-life thing. She tells me that my hard-won coping skills mean nothing because she’ll always find a way to squeeze through.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br />She sometimes keeps me up at night, sneaking in when I’m most still, eluding me of the peace I desire. Even though I keep telling myself that daily life should not be this hard, she tells me that it <i>is</i> this hard and always will be.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">She makes me want to crawl out of my nervous skin, just unzip it like a body suit and step out into fresher air.</span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I try to keep her separate from the rest of me, but she insists on making herself known and at home inside my body. She knots my stomach and knocks at the back of my brain.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br />Sometimes I feel like I’m going insane with the thoughts that bombard me like incessant thunder. My brain lights up with a nervous firing and firing and firing, neural paths crisscrossing, creating connections that I never asked for and cannot undo.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />She imagines worst-case scenarios and rehearses arguments as if she’s preparing for battle. She braces me for a pain I cannot imagine and may never feel. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">She makes me feel like I’m at war with myself.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">She sharpens my senses to the point of overstimulation, then numbs me whole to block it all out.</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> Anxiety brain, she knows no nuance! </span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">She’s the reason I feel to throw my phone across a room, when I'm all scrolled out and fed up of being a virtual persona.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />Anxiety brain is a fighter. She’s cunning and persistent and opportunistic. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">She may act like she’s <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/CjRXjd8NwKI/" target="_blank">a part of me</a>, but I refuse to accept that I’m an anxious person. Anxiety brain is not me, and I am not her.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: arial; font-size: large;">So I push back. </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I rise, I eat, I exercise, I work, I play, I rest, I read, I smile, I laugh, I care, I write, I pray, I sing, I dance, I cry.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">I revel in the saga of this life, appreciating the highs and accepting the lows. And though <a href="https://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2014/12/a-letter-from-your-emotions-why-they.html" target="_blank">my emotions</a> run left, right, up and down, I know that if I look at my life in the bigger picture, I AM OKAY. More than okay; I am HUMAN.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And how wonderfully human it is to experience this life, including my anxiety, in a way that only I could ever express. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><blockquote class="instagram-media" data-instgrm-captioned="" data-instgrm-permalink="https://www.instagram.com/p/CewHWceJvY4/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading" data-instgrm-version="14" style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border-radius: 3px; border: 0px; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.5) 0px 0px 1px 0px, rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.15) 0px 1px 10px 0px; margin: 1px; max-width: 540px; min-width: 326px; padding: 0px; width: calc(100% - 2px);"><div style="padding: 16px;"> <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/CewHWceJvY4/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading" style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); 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font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 550; line-height: 18px;">View this post on Instagram</div></div><div style="padding: 12.5% 0px;"></div> <div style="align-items: center; display: flex; flex-direction: row; margin-bottom: 14px;"><div> <div style="background-color: #f4f4f4; border-radius: 50%; height: 12.5px; transform: translateX(0px) translateY(7px); width: 12.5px;"></div> <div style="background-color: #f4f4f4; flex-grow: 0; height: 12.5px; margin-left: 2px; margin-right: 14px; transform: rotate(-45deg) translateX(3px) translateY(1px); width: 12.5px;"></div> <div style="background-color: #f4f4f4; border-radius: 50%; height: 12.5px; transform: translateX(9px) translateY(-18px); width: 12.5px;"></div></div><div style="margin-left: 8px;"> <div style="background-color: #f4f4f4; border-radius: 50%; flex-grow: 0; height: 20px; width: 20px;"></div> <div style="border-bottom: 2px solid transparent; border-left: 6px solid rgb(244, 244, 244); border-top: 2px solid transparent; height: 0px; transform: translateX(16px) translateY(-4px) rotate(30deg); width: 0px;"></div></div><div style="margin-left: auto;"> <div style="border-right: 8px solid transparent; border-top: 8px solid rgb(244, 244, 244); transform: translateY(16px); width: 0px;"></div> <div style="background-color: #f4f4f4; flex-grow: 0; height: 12px; transform: translateY(-4px); width: 16px;"></div> <div style="border-left: 8px solid transparent; border-top: 8px solid rgb(244, 244, 244); height: 0px; transform: translateY(-4px) translateX(8px); width: 0px;"></div></div></div> <div style="display: flex; flex-direction: column; flex-grow: 1; justify-content: center; margin-bottom: 24px;"> <div style="background-color: #f4f4f4; border-radius: 4px; flex-grow: 0; height: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px; width: 224px;"></div> <div style="background-color: #f4f4f4; border-radius: 4px; flex-grow: 0; height: 14px; width: 144px;"></div></div></a><p style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 8px; overflow: hidden; padding: 8px 0px 7px; text-align: center; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/CewHWceJvY4/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading" style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">A post shared by Official Chibird ⭐️ Jacqueline (@chibirdart)</a></p></div></blockquote> <script async="" src="//www.instagram.com/embed.js"></script></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div><br /></div></div><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p></p>Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6551318344612845679.post-16959684484875623502022-08-13T01:06:00.003-07:002022-08-13T01:40:57.257-07:00"Why you coming back to Trinidad?"<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqeXyQgNLSvCxvOjfiA2SVRsGoXqqzHbMSzOaF-wayJIt50sU_bTDk4OObujeocmG_CjcBj2QATHIOeV4yE61epcViCkM_CsenlTNnDsaVsok-yW-X0pVyN0ikv-jG8NUpRrv41eJpJPmdYHRJSJtNPIZEE7h45tX2eRoD9OlDbk3P18AzKbaAvklQ/s4032/IMG_5535.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqeXyQgNLSvCxvOjfiA2SVRsGoXqqzHbMSzOaF-wayJIt50sU_bTDk4OObujeocmG_CjcBj2QATHIOeV4yE61epcViCkM_CsenlTNnDsaVsok-yW-X0pVyN0ikv-jG8NUpRrv41eJpJPmdYHRJSJtNPIZEE7h45tX2eRoD9OlDbk3P18AzKbaAvklQ/w240-h320/IMG_5535.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">touched down in the 868!</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">"What you wanna come here for?"</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">"Why you want to move back to <i>Trinidad?"</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">"Trinidad have nothing for you."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">"Girl, find yourself an American man so you could get citizenship and stay there."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The people want to know why on earth I would come back to Trinidad and give up on living in the U.S., the land of opportunity<br /> and all that jazz. Well, besides the fact that I have to move back home for contractual reasons (iykyk), more importantly, I <i>want </i>to move back. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I've spent seven long, fun, transformative, life-changing but arduous years in the US of A and now it's time for a new phase of life. Leggo.<span></span></span></p><a name='more'></a><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">* * * </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="color: #6fa8dc; font-size: large;"><b>Bippity boppity boo - I'm back on the blog!</b></span> <span style="font-size: medium;">Back to the place where it all began. I </span><a href="https://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2014/09/20-facts-about-me-yo.html" style="font-size: large;" target="_blank">started</a><span style="font-size: medium;"> this blog in Trinidad during a time of transition (my gap year) and I'm returning to it in another time of transition (the big move back),</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">A lot has changed in eight years. Well, in some ways.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">In 2014, when I started blogging, I was 18, passionate about reading, sick of my smartphone and absolutely mind-boggled by how much I'd learned about life and myself in that year. (The original title of this blog was "Life hacks I learnt the hard way")</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Now, I'm 26, still passionate about reading, still sick of my smartphone and still mind-boggled by how much I've learned in <a href="https://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2020/05/the-uncharted-territory-of-my-20s.html" target="_blank">my 20s</a>.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">In 2014, I started this blog as a way to keep writing "as a hobby".</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Now, I <i>am </i>a <a href="https://www.astridcasimire.com/" target="_blank">writer</a>. This is my chosen profession and life mission regardless of what job pays my bills.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">In 2014, I fretted about not knowing what I wanted to study, or where. The future was like a grey fog that I couldn't see through.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="color: #6fa8dc; font-size: large;"><b>Now, I still don't know what the next years of my life will hold, but the future feels open and airy and endless, instead of dark and nebulous. </b></span><span style="font-size: medium;">I am stepping into a field of possibility, and it's bright. It's light. It's unrushed, taking its time to figure itself out.</span><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; font-size: large; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7IsXzGUl57Rv8-GyvSrNr-TPA8tctceKMvPT2P3nVMuN_9dYSjoVGCaN9InPtSKZ9f5-9d4ExCbx6lP2ff8hhB2Qi5eUeHs0_mBodDucpyNIamgRWuWK4ac3n7vrsVUD0gG-oEi7HfuUE7yxoA6wXznBtZCLE03F7-Lmp0tMrz9gd8bihSC7br1da/s6000/las%20cuevas%20late%20afternoon.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7IsXzGUl57Rv8-GyvSrNr-TPA8tctceKMvPT2P3nVMuN_9dYSjoVGCaN9InPtSKZ9f5-9d4ExCbx6lP2ff8hhB2Qi5eUeHs0_mBodDucpyNIamgRWuWK4ac3n7vrsVUD0gG-oEi7HfuUE7yxoA6wXznBtZCLE03F7-Lmp0tMrz9gd8bihSC7br1da/w400-h266/las%20cuevas%20late%20afternoon.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a light, bright scene at Las Cuevas beach</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">This stepping into the light isn't just a metaphor. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The last two years of my life, of <a href="https://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2020/03/coping-and-mourning-in-unprecedented.html" target="_blank">this dangalang pandemic</a>, have been...a lot. Definitely some of the most transformative and big-growth years of my life (maybe every year is like that in your 20s though?). But also some of the darkest. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I found myself in some <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/CeVeBnxrACh/" target="_blank">deep pits</a> of sadness, unsure how exactly I got there and how exactly to get out. Depression, in whatever form, for however long or however serious, is no joke. And that's a whole 'nother blog post.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">* * *</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Back to the open, sunny future.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I spent years wondering: what career do I choose? How can I help people without necessarily <a href="https://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2016/09/should-i-become-doctor.html" target="_blank">becoming a doctor</a>? How can I write <i>and </i>do good in the world? What am I supposed to be doing with my life???</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Now my perspective has shifted. Enough with the questions. Yeah, I'm still curious about the answers to these questions but I'm realizing that maybe the pursuit of the answer <i>is </i>the answer. Like maybe the wondering, and wandering, and trial and error, and experiences I collect along the way to answering these questions have way more value than whatever answer I think I'm seeking.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">All I mean to say is, I'm no longer focused on the very narrow concept of "what should I be doing for the rest of my life" but I'm thinking about the values that matter to me. </span></p><p><span style="color: #6fa8dc; font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><b>What <i>kind </i>of life do I want to live?</b></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> I may not have a career answer but I know I want my life to have <a href="https://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2017/06/the-beauty-of-community.html" target="_blank">community</a> and creativity, I want to be of service to others, and I want to be connected with God and at peace.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I know, too, what I <i>don't </i>want. I DON'T want to be a rat in the rat race, grinding all the time, too tired to actually ENJOY my life, or waiting for things to get better.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">In some ways, that's what the last couple years in the U.S. have felt like - like I was waiting for my real life to begin, or waiting to find a <a href="https://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2020/06/finally-i-graduated-and-im-not-burnt-out.html" target="_blank">work-life balance</a> that mostly eluded me, or waiting to feel better about myself. I tried to be present but it still felt like I was biding my time before moving home.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Now that I'm here on the other side of this highly anticipated move, the waiting is over. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">* * *</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">You might be wondering: so what about <a href="https://youtu.be/qMxX-QOV9tI?t=60" target="_blank">money</a>? You can't support yourself, or a family, on peace and vibes.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpcJgPBh5FAhlOgblgDwpqhwh9Qz7HEtryNpIBVB-0NVXJDL6DBaoNBD9sEro1fxnSHJBS3cyXB_jLkg-6dCJhbL3aDKssti4QOqJQx0vj2eNdvRyUbhs-Cpu0-RLBSpc-Mxw39Gs_A7GYvoLBncbmQaUDHsRZ5XwVQePMLnwvDgB5t0xjtsRxXZPk/s851/isaiah58.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="851" data-original-width="650" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpcJgPBh5FAhlOgblgDwpqhwh9Qz7HEtryNpIBVB-0NVXJDL6DBaoNBD9sEro1fxnSHJBS3cyXB_jLkg-6dCJhbL3aDKssti4QOqJQx0vj2eNdvRyUbhs-Cpu0-RLBSpc-Mxw39Gs_A7GYvoLBncbmQaUDHsRZ5XwVQePMLnwvDgB5t0xjtsRxXZPk/w305-h400/isaiah58.jpeg" width="305" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I've thought about this too and honestly, I'm not worried. Maybe naive? But I truly believe in a God who will provide all my needs and then more, who will give back to me more than I can imagine if I put my trust in him and try to fulfill his will and purpose for my life.<br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I'm letting go of a lot of worry. (As I have to - I literally can't afford to be as stressed as I've been the last couple years).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Of course, this letting go is easier said than done. And it's much easier said when I know I have financial safety nets. Perhaps I don't know what real trust is until I have no safety net. I also wonder: how can I fully trust God and not focus on money while still making smart, future focused, financially conscious decisions? I guess we'll see.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">This is all part of the journey right now. Catch me in five years when things maybe feel way less cushioned and safe...I better still be trusting God then. 😅🙏</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">* * *</span></p><p><span style="color: #6fa8dc; font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><b>Bottom line, I don't want my worth to be pinned to my career. </b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I don't want to measure my success by my job, my productivity, or how much I can do.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">(Does it or did it ever make sense for us to pin our financial security, peace, purpose and worth on...a job? I'm not sure.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Because I've been there, done that, and it wasn't pretty. I put so much of my worth into my work that I fell into bouts of anxiety and sometimes depression when I felt work wasn't going well. Yeah, there were other mental health triggers for sure, but the work thing was a BIG ONE.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">So in this new era, I'm more focused on how I want the rhythm of my life to play out rather than the fine details.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Luckily, there are countless ways to find community, creativity, peace and service in this life.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">* * *</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><span style="color: #6fa8dc; font-size: large;">So a lot of people I've encountered in Trinidad want to know: why move back?</span></b><span style="font-size: medium;"> Especially when I've had the gorgeous opportunity to work in the U.S.?</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">And I get where they're coming from because life in Trinidad can be hard. People can't find jobs. Everything is getting more expensive - gas, flour, food. Doubles are $6 now. And trying to get things done in most government offices <i>will </i>result in a runaround.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I don't want to fool myself into thinking I'm somehow immune to the hard-knock life in Trinidad.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">But I don't want to be jaded either. I'm too young to be jaded!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">That's where the trust comes in.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><span style="color: #6fa8dc; font-size: large;">Here are some of the reasons I wanted to move back to Trinidad:</span></b><span style="font-size: medium;"> I missed home. I love my country. I love my family. I love steelpan. And I've been itching to re-immerse myself in my culture, my people, and my history, to look around and not be one of the few black faces around.</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: large; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyIx3OJ8tigmYYYmwd4w5k7veGIpBZC07xoTKgXJ0gdTi2-pbLNvUDVsUjPHsVqHdEQGdMZL5D20vxQayR_sA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We have so much talent and beauty in T&T. We make jokes out of everything. We don't take ourselves too seriously. We know how to have a good time. We have an incredibly rich and creative culture. Yeah, we have our issues but honestly, what place doesn't?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">For me, there's nothing - NOTHING - like the sense of ease and familiarity I feel when I'm at home, in a place I <i>know </i>I belong, no doubt.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Since leaving to study in 2015, there has been something <a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2017/07/a-note-on-nobility.html" target="_blank">pulling me back home</a> - pushing against the tide of supposed sensibility and security of life in the U.S.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">But I don't see the point of living life apart from where my heart has been leading me all this time: home.</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE23nojB2cyXKVckTVUF6a_ggdJtE_MEgKK-CwRHJweb9zB0zmJlODFYX0Rc0HLPlqwFridZPwqzEC00INBbSB1Wch19O9LX9vl0leT28OTbiXCudzyMz0jBAluN4fLJBaU9mWKFNforuQIMlu15FCkmvn8sdhEo3N-_c5-liaGhJlm8dMBhq8Pcpx/s2592/tobago%20beach.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1936" data-original-width="2592" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE23nojB2cyXKVckTVUF6a_ggdJtE_MEgKK-CwRHJweb9zB0zmJlODFYX0Rc0HLPlqwFridZPwqzEC00INBbSB1Wch19O9LX9vl0leT28OTbiXCudzyMz0jBAluN4fLJBaU9mWKFNforuQIMlu15FCkmvn8sdhEo3N-_c5-liaGhJlm8dMBhq8Pcpx/w400-h299/tobago%20beach.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">near Stone Haven Bay, Tobago</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Stay tuned to see what happens next...anyone else going through big transitions? Or grappling with the idea of home or career or what comes next? I'd love to hear your thoughts too :)</span></p>Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6551318344612845679.post-91929212786099378882020-06-15T13:41:00.000-07:002020-06-15T13:50:01.568-07:00Finally I graduated and I’m not burnt out!<div class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"><b>Until now, work-life balance felt like a myth.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> I struggled through four years of undergrad before learning how to respect myself, my time and my health. Now I can finally look back and see how far I've come.</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">Yesterday, we graduated! I’m not going to dwell on how underwhelming virtual graduation was, because it’s actually okay. I’d rather be underwhelmed than overwhelmed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">Last year when I graduated with my bachelor’s we did the full shebang: my family came up to California to celebrate with me, we had all the ceremonies - black grad, grad mass, commencement ceremony in the stadium and the department ceremony under a huge tent on the main quad. I walked across the stage and got my diploma and introduced my family to my friends and we took hella pictures and I said goodbye to my friends and packed up my room and finished my final assignments and took down all our dorm decorations and played my last pan gig all in the span of one week. And that was all well and good but I’d be lying to you if I said it wasn’t <i>utterly overwhelming</i>.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial";">snapshots from graduation 2019</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">Senior year had been my most stressful year of university, which made sense. I'd push through hard times, <a href="https://www.stanforddaily.com/2019/03/13/feeling-the-heat-a-closer-look-at-stanford-burnout/" target="_blank">burn out</a> at the end, then try to sleep it off and come back stronger after a period of rest.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">The thing is that time to rest isn’t always enough. I could journal and self care and sleep and talk to my parents about how the next year would be different, but at the end of the day I couldn't do it on my own and I didn't get the help I needed until things started literally falling apart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f57c00; font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">It broke my heart when I searched old chats a couple weeks ago and found that since my </span><i style="color: #f57c00; font-family: arial; font-size: large;">very first quarter at Stanford</i><span style="color: #f57c00; font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">, I'd talked about going to counseling. But it took me years to make that appointment. </span><span style="text-align: left;">I don’t believe in dwelling on regret, but there is a part of me that wonders how much easier my university experience could have been had I made that call early on, way back in November 2015.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibb4GqSLpb-WCgoIlFp-yWAaGS53IY8EjaSM_UjmSgAanCr-3d6GLIL5W7uDCNjflPiFH3vYzAPtzxqw8K2vLXxVwQD-3gJbF6ivJclEqWAtZzjkbgI9jLAivJqFOu7PoBCOGnA5fsf3s/s1016/caps_whatsapp.PNG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1016" data-original-width="735" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibb4GqSLpb-WCgoIlFp-yWAaGS53IY8EjaSM_UjmSgAanCr-3d6GLIL5W7uDCNjflPiFH3vYzAPtzxqw8K2vLXxVwQD-3gJbF6ivJclEqWAtZzjkbgI9jLAivJqFOu7PoBCOGnA5fsf3s/s320/caps_whatsapp.PNG" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial";">2015 </span><span style="font-family: "arial";">conversation</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial";">Fast forward to October 2019. I’m in a one-year master’s program and starting to spiral hard. I will not dwell on that either but I will say it was a dark time. We’ve all had them. I think for me, it was inevitable.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: "arial";"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">I’d like to say that I made that counseling appointment last year because I finally saw the light and got the courage to make the call but that’s not true. It’s only because I went to the doctor for some physical symptoms - some of which were stress-related - and she told me to make an appointment upstairs with the counseling services.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">So I did.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">A week later I had my first ever one on one appointment with a therapist and it changed my life.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">I’ve <a href="https://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2020/03/coping-and-mourning-in-unprecedented.html" target="_blank">talked</a> about this in other posts and I will keep saying it because therapy taught me self-respect and gave me tools for coping. I felt validated and empowered in a way I hadn't before.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"><i><b style="color: #4285f4;">Side note before I continue:</b> This is not to say that I haven't been surrounded by extremely support family, friends, teachers and mentors. I have and I am so grateful for that. But therapists are therapists for a reason. They are </i>trained professionals.<i> This is their specialty. Friends and family can be amazingly supportive but they aren't therapists, and they shouldn't have to be.</i><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"><i><b style="color: #4285f4;">And another side note:</b> I know I have immense privilege in having access to therapy and in finding an amazing therapist the first time around. A lot of people don't have access, or can't afford, or have long-wait times, or have to try different therapists before finding someone they can vibe with. For many, the system sucks. Maybe things are changing, or maybe I'm still one of the very lucky ones. That's another discussion. Okay, back with the program.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f57c00; font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">The biggest thing I’ve learned is that now that I’m an adult, it’s up to me to parent myself, console myself, take care of myself, </span><i style="color: #f57c00; font-family: arial; font-size: large;">respect </i><span style="color: #f57c00; font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">myself and hold space for myself. </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">It meant setting boundaries in my personal relationships. It meant pushing through present discomfort to save my future self from even more discomfort. It meant going to bed when I was tired instead of falling asleep with the lights on because I was trying to work even as my eyes were drooping. It meant eating proper meals, on time, instead of working without food and using food as a reward.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large; text-align: left;">Another big element was the idea of holding space for myself, physically and emotionally. </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large; text-align: left;">Accommodating my needs above other people’s needs. Seeing myself as someone worthy of expressing and owning my feelings without feeling like I’m taking up too much space.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">In short, therapy empowered me. <span style="font-size: large;">At least once during our sessions, I thank my therapist for helping me through and she always says, "Thank yourself. You're the one going back and implementing what we talk about." She says this every time and it got me thinking, <i>huh, I guess I really am doing the work. I'm making the changes.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">Here’s what that looked like in real life.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f57c00; font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">This quarter, when the pandemic turned all of our worlds upside down, I decided to prioritize work-life balance. </span><span style="font-family: "arial";">When we were ordered to stay home mid-March, my roommate and I started cooking meals on evenings and watching shows and movies at night. </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">It was a great routine, and easy to keep up during spring break. But when classes started back in April, I was worried that schoolwork would take over.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"> </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC3nwQUvY4oVJSVJIr7Pb7LCFoPN-dh8KNJaWv2QIc0uJfqac12nM9d0npX-T6EE700GwGlG5UQW0DbzKO14tS7IVHVoHdRXZ4ufSsU0ESmU0agr5OeEqm63Bxefgg2RSeGYewTie6h-4/s3264/food_collage.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1088" data-original-width="3264" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC3nwQUvY4oVJSVJIr7Pb7LCFoPN-dh8KNJaWv2QIc0uJfqac12nM9d0npX-T6EE700GwGlG5UQW0DbzKO14tS7IVHVoHdRXZ4ufSsU0ESmU0agr5OeEqm63Bxefgg2RSeGYewTie6h-4/w625-h210/food_collage.jpg" width="625" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial";">photo (& food) cred to my roommate David</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">Then I thought: why do things have to change? Why can’t I work during the day, and be free on evenings?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> So said, so done. In the past, before therapy, I always felt I knew exactly <i>what</i> I needed to do to get back on track but couldn't figure out <i>how</i> to do it. That changed. Therapy helped me bridge the gap between talk and action.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">I’m not going to pretend that working from home didn’t make things easier. I can’t say that any of this would have happened had this year been pandemic-free and business as usual.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBE0V-3G7ueXrOUxM1PskNChfc6A1zLIL2k-pL5XX_coCRQMTIOw3zr7l9-9Tld6RTUDMExA3FLRYJT8wMi51eMS8RoIT1P0RuOZWXqmrAQWte3Quh8xj8_Y-WdkKsaOFi82kV_AU6gqU/s1080/babyworkfromhome_meme.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBE0V-3G7ueXrOUxM1PskNChfc6A1zLIL2k-pL5XX_coCRQMTIOw3zr7l9-9Tld6RTUDMExA3FLRYJT8wMi51eMS8RoIT1P0RuOZWXqmrAQWte3Quh8xj8_Y-WdkKsaOFi82kV_AU6gqU/s320/babyworkfromhome_meme.JPG" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial";">working from home sometimes looked <br />like this LOL (also isn't she the <br />CUTEST!)</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">Because I was working from home, I didn’t have to worry about waking up 2 hours before my classes to get ready and catch the bus. Instead, I could roll out of bed 5 minutes before class time, and log onto Zoom, no problem. That meant 2 extra hours of sleep!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">I didn’t have to worry about packing lunch everyday or finding spots to work on campus. I could lay down during the day to restore energy between tasks. I could do mac & cheese on the spot if I was hungry.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">Still, </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">I’m really proud of myself for protecting my evenings and valuing that cooking and tv-time with my roommate. I didn't blow it all off for work.</span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"> I feel like that’s such a norm in university: at any given time or day, you could be working. Work is always hanging over your head. Even when I was relaxing or tired, I felt pressured to work and exhaust every last bit of energy I had because the assignment had to get done at all costs.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">That didn’t happen this time. I confined my work to “work-hours” as much as I could. I did what I could and whatever I didn’t finish by 5 or 6pm I’d save for the next day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">It was frustrating because my work pace was slower than it’s ever been (plus we're in a global pandemic, so I cut myself some slack there). <span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">I had to adjust to the fact that I could only do so much.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">Of course, there were some days I had to work for longer. But that was no longer the norm, and over time, I found that I couldn’t work after a certain hour even if I tried. I am better off because of it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f57c00; font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">This is the first time I’ve finished a school year not feeling utterly burnt out and unable to function. Looking back, it’s because I was not working until I had nothing left to give. I slept, rested, cooked, relaxed. </span><span style="font-family: "arial";">And guess what? The work still got done! I still graduated. And I am proud of where I’m at.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: "arial";"> </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQMjUX9yX7ZhUvUwHleVyNkMMvLbfZpL9brsVqHhihTksAvpliwKBcjSojZn4jQwVrP2CWpiROdjNZEpFOCAS-5rb5da7lZss-ju6sVIDG5iiB2ElI9ZGB0U0Wj0M5n9OX64alEvT3pd0/s1280/grad2020selfie.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQMjUX9yX7ZhUvUwHleVyNkMMvLbfZpL9brsVqHhihTksAvpliwKBcjSojZn4jQwVrP2CWpiROdjNZEpFOCAS-5rb5da7lZss-ju6sVIDG5iiB2ElI9ZGB0U0Wj0M5n9OX64alEvT3pd0/s320/grad2020selfie.JPG" /></span></i></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial";">lil grad 2020 selfie<br />(taken from my bed)</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">Before this year, I would have been rattled and repulsed by the thought of doing any ounce of work after the end of the school year. I usually cannot function for a while after school ends. Now, I feel normal. <span style="font-size: large;">I have the energy to tie up loose ends (ie my thesis).</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">I know that not everyone has the luxury of work-life balance. I feel lucky that I do. There’s a part of me that wonders if this will all change when I’m working for real and feel a new sense of pressure to excel at my job. And I'm still figuring out how to balance and maintain personal relationships while prioritizing my own wellbeing. But there’s a bigger part of me that knows that I’ll be okay.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-converted-space">I'll be okay because I've learned to respect myself, and that's something no job or person can ever take away.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"><!--more--></span>Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.comPalo Alto, CA, USA37.4418834 -122.14301959.1316495638211563 -157.29926949999998 65.752117236178847 -86.9867695tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6551318344612845679.post-78816229192920736002020-05-25T16:31:00.001-07:002020-05-25T16:49:11.493-07:00The uncharted territory of my 20s<div class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Hint it’s uncomfortable and involves a lot of unlearning the ways of functioning that I’d built up throughout my life. Been broken down now I’m building back up!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB-_pl-k280OeJo1SI6EVVuQO0HtOFONczWGb9b3WxzmBnMPXnPd7fGLNmbJSsenaDtwiaL6Ys8X-LrmtZsp_C0_mrWdsEgqh0bz5bkqEt4Xvrc0H3wPguRTXzFbUWgHzXup8tkZBwC9g/s1600/drone+pic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB-_pl-k280OeJo1SI6EVVuQO0HtOFONczWGb9b3WxzmBnMPXnPd7fGLNmbJSsenaDtwiaL6Ys8X-LrmtZsp_C0_mrWdsEgqh0bz5bkqEt4Xvrc0H3wPguRTXzFbUWgHzXup8tkZBwC9g/s400/drone+pic.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">me, attempting to fly a drone</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Where do I begin? Maybe with how introspectively uncomfortable I am these days. I’m no longer satisfied with my own status quo of functioning because I’m seeing a better way, but the better way is far off in the horizon. And I’m starting to make a dent towards the better way but it’s hard. It’s like wading full-body through a sticky mess and you keep going forward because you know you get to the other side eventually.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It’s not messy because it’s bad. It’s messy because it’s growth, it’s uncharted, it’s new, it’s figuring things out and making mistakes and learning from them and making a different mistake and feeling frustrated because progress is sloooooow.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">The whole mess I’m referring to is the task of trying to carve out a way of living and functioning that’s different from what I've always known.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> I’ve always been guarded...always? Or was it learned? How much of who we think we are is simply a reaction to the things we’ve experienced? How much of our essence are we already born with? I’m not gonna pretend I can separate the two, but I’m tempted to say that the parts we’re born with are inherently pure and good while the parts we learn can go a number of ways - they can be detrimental or helpful or </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">useful for growth until we outgrow them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I think we only outgrow the learned parts of ourselves when we're out of the situations that made us learn them in the first place, when life shifts somehow. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It doesn’t have to be a life-shattering shift. For me, that shift has been going to university abroad and being “on my own", ie not living in my parents' house, for almost five years. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And between being away from home, being at school, people I’ve met, experiences I’ve had, my own struggles, and starting therapy, I’ve learned a lot. I’ve seen new ways of being that are different from what I've learned (consciously and subconsciously). </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: x-large;">Now I have to make a choice about whether I want to continue functioning the way I’d been before or chart a new course.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn95RV6TtHTRHGGF67OpYzHuEN82IQVdduz8uQsd7xMwMtmDPpNkTdllQXGtMtxc8VeE6D5VAVLcdTgbg5CYLk13DsLdeJzC-BPGGPvo1bitBIyMnApeYa5JwmiGlsMCXX3ax1tDv7HFc/s1600/akwasi+quote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="221" data-original-width="750" height="116" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn95RV6TtHTRHGGF67OpYzHuEN82IQVdduz8uQsd7xMwMtmDPpNkTdllQXGtMtxc8VeE6D5VAVLcdTgbg5CYLk13DsLdeJzC-BPGGPvo1bitBIyMnApeYa5JwmiGlsMCXX3ax1tDv7HFc/s400/akwasi+quote.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">had this convo with a friend a while back...totally agree with this (s/o to Akwasi)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I’m choosing to chart a new course. I’m not saying I’m completely veering in the opposite direction of where I was always headed. I’m charting a new course in small ways. I want to be less guarded all the time. Less accommodating. I want to advocate for myself more. I want to form my own opinions about things and stand firm in them instead of deferring to other people’s. I want to be able to speak my mind without second guessing myself. And I want to trust my instincts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It’s funny because I’m tempted to write these off as ‘small things’. Nothing big, just a little self-improvement, right? After all, there are people out here literally recovering from violence and abuse and disaster and other traumatic life events that are far more earth-shattering than me trying to be more outspoken. EXCEPT here’s the thing. I don't think I can set up a comparison like this. It’s like comparing apples and oranges. My self-improvement goals are not small things. This is a different kind of turmoil that’s all internal and all introspective and all inside your head. All constructed almost. But isn’t everything constructed?</span><br />
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— chlosed for renovation (@ChloeCadet) <a href="https://twitter.com/ChloeCadet/status/1264556218372304906?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">May 24, 2020</a></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Over the years I’ve constructed this sense of self and way of functioning which got me to where I am today. For that, I am grateful. But now that I’m entering a new phase of life, literally on the brink of graduation and the ‘adult world’, some of my past ways of functioning are no longer serving me. It does not do to be accommodating. It’s okay to have wants, needs and boundaries. It’s okay - beneficial even!! - to express these, but this is something I have not had much practice with over the years.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I always thought I was super introspective, and way too self-aware for my own good, but now this lockdown has brought my self-awareness into even sharper focus. It’s almost too much. It’s like I’ve unlocked another layer of self-awareness, where I’m realizing all the ways I <i>can</i> be different but I haven't finished cultivating the tools that would let me be different. It’s uncomfortable as hell.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">It’s uncomfortable because I’m noticing the things I want to change faster than I can change them.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I guess it’s phase one of being better. You know what they say, the first step to change is self-awareness. Or something like that. It’s just that the self-awareness is pretty uncomfortable when you’re aware that you want to change but aren’t yet changing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It’s like <a href="https://www.simplypsychology.org/cognitive-dissonance.html" target="_blank">cognitive dissonance</a>, a term I didn’t really understand until this year. It’s like you’re acting out of accordance with your values/beliefs, so you need to find a way to reconcile things by either changing your actions or justifying your actions to align with your beliefs. I think the dissonance comes in when you can’t reconcile anything, and you’re sitting there in the discomfort.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I suppose I just have to be patient with myself but it's so slow and frustrating. I don’t like being uncomfortable. I want to speed through to the end when I figure it out.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Yet part of what I’ve been learning in my life stumblings is how to be comfortable with discomfort.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> Because being uncomfortable means there’s an opportunity for growth. If you can only stick through the discomfort and work to get to the other side, it’s worth it.</span></div>
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I hope you stand in the discomfort of growth instead of retreating to what you know is not good for you.</div>
— Dr. Thema (@drthema) <a href="https://twitter.com/drthema/status/1204878873176838145?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">December 11, 2019</a></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">All I can do is keep moving forward into this sticky mess. Besides, if there’s any time of life that’s allowed to be sticky, it’s your 20s. (But catch me saying this in my 30s too because it turns out that life is never not sticky! Ha. Jokes on me).</span><br />
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Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6551318344612845679.post-80622047447732476972020-03-31T00:09:00.001-07:002020-03-31T10:36:55.391-07:00Coping and mourning in unprecedented times<h3 style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Here’s to mourning the things we lost, realizing it’s okay to slump, and knowing we don’t have to go it alone. Plus, yay therapy!</span></h3>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Not gonna lie and pretend that I’m thriving during this time because I’m not. It’s difficult. I saw a social media post that read “Damn…I picked a bad year to get my life together” and I felt that. Because I started therapy at the end of last year and was <i>finally</i> learning to address my anxieties. </span><span style="font-size: large;">I was finally learning how to push through discomfort and stay present and in tune to my body even when my mind sends me into a tailspin. I was </span><span style="font-size: large;">learning how to be kind to myself and parent myself and BAM. Covid-19 comes and sends me spinning. So yeah, I'm upset.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: "helvetica neue"; font-size: x-large;">The very structure and stability I’d begun to adjust to are gone, replaced with a completely new, unprecedented world for which there are no rules, no guidelines. </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And I appreciate the people who try to keep it positive and tell me <i>hey let’s use this time to be mindful, let’s use this time to take care of ourselves and do the things we never have time to do</i> (because I agree), but I know that I need space to <a href="https://hbr.org/2020/03/that-discomfort-youre-feeling-is-grief?fbclid=IwAR2jELCgpWyVhsYCYGTgmkyrj-J6C2seeFg6To3AT0eDBmH2ZRV0WCiaNAw" target="_blank">grieve</a> too. I think it’s okay to acknowledge the things that we lost, instead of trying to ignore them and pretend that we can still thrive without batting an eye.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is not to say there is nothing to be grateful for (there is lots) and there’s no hope to be found (there is some) and there are not people who have it way worse during (there definitely are). This may be an opportunity to grow, but it's still a period of sadness. There's no reason for me to pretend it’s all good.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: x-large;">Perhaps I'm also mourning the optimist I used to be.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> In secondary school, I’d write positive quotes on the board everyday. I was known for being the positive chick. But since starting university almost 5 years ago, I’ve felt that identity <a href="https://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2016/11/growing-pains.html" target="_blank">slipping away</a>, which worries me. Who am I if I’m not the optimist I always thought I was? Who am I if I can’t find a way to smile and think positive during a difficult time? Who am I if I can’t pull myself out of this slump? (and trust me, in these 5 years, there have been many <a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2016/10/the-great-unsettling-of-sophomore-year.html" target="_blank">slumps</a>, big and small).</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I guess that’s where therapy comes in. I realize I don’t have to figure it out on my own. And there’s a huge part of me right now that’s thinking: <i>Thank God I started therapy before this all went down</i>. Because this is the ultimate test of all the coping mechanisms and anxiety tools I’d been working on. Go figure.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I cannot emphasize enough how much therapy has improved my life. It’s not that therapy itself is the solution to my anxiety, my unhealthy coping mechanisms, my negative self-talk etc (wow I really am my own worst enemy). It’s that therapy has empowered me to find solutions within myself. It’s pushed me towards growth and shown me that I have the tools within me to make better decisions to improve my quality of life.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: x-large;">Therapy has given me language, a framework, a lens through which I can look at my spirals and slumps for what they are: spirals and slumps, not indicative of my abilities or worth. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Therapy has showed me that </span><span style="font-size: large;">loving myself means taking care of my mind, body and spirit. It is as simple as eating a meal when I'm hungry instead of starving myself in order to finish an assignment. I used to use food as a reward sometimes: <i>I won't eat until I finish this work! </i>But that just meant I was depriving myself of the nutrients and sustenance I need to focus in the first place.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: x-large;">Before, I’d ignore what my body was telling me to get work done. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Somehow, I’m always functioning as if I owe the world my blood, sweat and tears, working hard at the expense of my own health and sanity. I'd been doing that for all of uni. It was the definition of unsustainable and </span><span style="font-size: large;">things slowly began unraveling last year (queue my hair falling out which drove me to seek help in the first place. My body was clearly breaking down and crying for help, and that’s a whole other story). </span><span style="font-size: large;">If insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, clearly I was insane.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: x-large;">Therapy helped me break the cycle that kept breaking me down, and now I’m seeing myself through a new light. I'm building a foundation for a better life. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Deep down, yes I am still hopeful. I am still optimistic. I believe there is good in the world. I believe that I can achieve my dreams. But as I grow older I’m seeing the world, and myself, for what we are: multifaceted, complex, ever-changing, not all good but not all bad either.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And recognizing things for what they are is a part of healthy coping too - recognizing my anxious thoughts as just thoughts, not truths; recognizing an assignment as just an assignment, not a measurement of my worth; </span><span style="font-size: large;">recognizing that my best efforts are truly my best efforts, nothing more, nothing less, and nothing to beat myself up over; </span><span style="font-size: large;">recognizing this covid drama as truly unprecedented and a huge adjustment no matter who you are, what you do, or where you live.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: x-large;">It’s freeing to recognize life for what it is because we live in real-time, in a real world, that throws things at us that cannot always be solved by an optimistic spirit. </span><span style="font-size: large;">The world requires grit, planning, healthy coping mechanisms, stress management, and so many things that I thought I had to figure out on my own.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large;"> I was riding the struggle bus all the way down. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now, when I feel like dirt - as I often do these days - I know I do not have to sit alone and try to use the power of positive thinking to pull myself out of it. I can ask for help. And I’ve been texting friends and family. One suggested a walk. </span><span style="font-size: large;">One </span><span style="font-size: large;">sent me a </span><a href="https://www.ohsu.edu/sites/default/files/2019-04/Michaelis_selfcare_printable_0.pdf" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">checklist</span></a><span style="font-size: large;"> of things to ask myself when I feel to give up. One sends memes. One told me to take it one small task at a time. My parents call to check in and my roommate and I make plans to cook together. They are there to help.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So yes, I may have slumped for hours and days during the last couple weeks. But I’m recognizing that that’s a perfectly okay response to what is going on. Maybe other people are using this time to exercise and learn new skills, write novels and record music. That's them.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicaQfHqhQk2tPtqx1uciSmV_T2IG6ylgbkyoW4aFEb9iqRnFMfGPPIA6khunpmbl6fLJ2BH4Z4ADRXYqfV5JcD1HGdCUA3mwFJDR2_Tl3MdqAkEMlOonbmVbjLbhoC3GZ5KQSpt2jZkMs/s1600/ugh+cartoon.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1190" data-original-width="1192" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicaQfHqhQk2tPtqx1uciSmV_T2IG6ylgbkyoW4aFEb9iqRnFMfGPPIA6khunpmbl6fLJ2BH4Z4ADRXYqfV5JcD1HGdCUA3mwFJDR2_Tl3MdqAkEMlOonbmVbjLbhoC3GZ5KQSpt2jZkMs/s200/ugh+cartoon.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">source/artist: Fiona Rose <br />
full cartoon: @feffley on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/photo?fbid=1530523267087358&set=a.224280691044962" target="_blank">facebook</a> and <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/B99-FulhHT1/" target="_blank">instagram</a></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: x-large;">I need this time to rest and digest. That's me and that’s okay. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Last week I chilled all week. I saw a post on social media about someone's quarantine routine: "1pm - 3am: vibe”. I felt that. Waking when I feel to. Listening to music all day. Reading. Journaling. Youtube. Cooking with my roommate. Just chilling. Yes I’ve been spending too much time on my phone, but hey, today I turned my phone completely off. Free from the shackles of social media (I'd been trapped in the Twitter-Facebook-Whatsapp-Youtube-Snapchat web), I did whatever I felt to do. Woke up late, sent some emails, cooked pancakes for dinner and now, this blog post.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: x-large;">So here’s to the things we’ve lost.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> That’s what brought me here in the first place. Here’s to the stability and structure we’ve all lost and are trying to re-gain in these unprecedented times (I've always loved that word: unprecedented).<i> </i>Here’s to the social gatherings we’re all missing out on right now. Here’s to the things we were looking forward to - taking classes and hanging out in the beautiful spring weather, wearing shorts and dresses, enjoying our last quarter at university. Here's to the loss of our graduation, which will probably not be the huge celebration we were looking forward to. That is a huge loss, one I don't think I've fully accepted. Of course we’re mourning! Here’s to our hopes for future jobs and internships that are now up in the air, if not gone. Here’s to the uncertainty that’s plaguing everyone’s life right now.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">grateful for my undergrad graduation last year!</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: x-large;">Here’s to the dark thoughts and anger and sadness and anxieties that we try to suppress but cannot. This stuff is hard. </span><span style="font-size: large;">I started off my two-week spring-break-in-quarantine with a list of things I wanted to do: braid my hair, blog, read, write, journal, cook, clean, taxes, emails and so much more, because when next will I have all this free time, right? But that’s too much pressure. Instead, I’m focusing on the basics. Getting out of bed, and doing one thing each day that I need to do, and seeing what I have capacity for after that.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: x-large;">These days, I’m not even trying to thrive. I’m just trying to survive. Covid or not, I’m starting to think that maybe they’re the same thing.</span></div>
Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6551318344612845679.post-29903367672100211262019-09-17T00:42:00.000-07:002020-03-15T13:19:16.220-07:00Struggling to adjust to a new home<style type="text/css">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Since when is it a daunting task to leave my room or make a sandwich? What is going on?</span></span></h3>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4-UHDQ28dQUjokPEgsCRkPjqkrqbKnCK7ivHvVHnWUstTE-we5LZL2RL0Hc6BaLQOh33H5wAxrNVq5sd-OP0sgzx3HFxEDujcHP3i-LWqZp7_Z46IyzqznDTsTuav5C9smNHMG99tRo4/s1600/new+church.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4-UHDQ28dQUjokPEgsCRkPjqkrqbKnCK7ivHvVHnWUstTE-we5LZL2RL0Hc6BaLQOh33H5wAxrNVq5sd-OP0sgzx3HFxEDujcHP3i-LWqZp7_Z46IyzqznDTsTuav5C9smNHMG99tRo4/s320/new+church.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New church in my new town. Moving can be exciting, but also a little scary.</td></tr>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />Basic life update/recap: I graduated in June, went home, survived a full-time internship (all by the grace of God) and now I’m back in the bay for my master’s degree (who sent me?!). I’m no longer on campus, but an 18-ish minute bike ride away and living in a legit house - not a dorm with a dining hall and RAs and more people than you can befriend in a year, but a house. </span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Turns out, introversion affects all areas of life. Actually, it’s more than that. I have this toxic combination of perfectionism and introversion that make me afraid of confrontation, making mistakes or asking questions.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So here are some things that happened in the last few days that have me reevaluating my approach to life.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">First of all, </span><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">I don't leave my room sometimes because I’m scared of running into someone else by surprise</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">. Like the thought of opening my door and finding someone in the kitchen when I thought it was empty scares the hell out of me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It’s like I have this strong desire to control every aspect of the environment I’m in. And if I can’t, I avoid. So the latest game has been me trying to optimally time my room-exits and kitchen-entrances (which are really just the same since my room is right off the kitchen) either: a) when I think no one else is around b) when I think no one is going to enter and find me there and c) not too soon after someone has left so they won’t think I was trying to avoid them by waiting until they left. But these criteria leave me with no time that’s a good time because, duh, I can’t predict anyone’s moves.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Aside from the need for control I'm afraid of being watched. </span><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">The thought of someone being in the kitchen while I do <i>anything, </i>even something simple like microwaving bread, is daunting</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">. Maybe it's just a today thing. But it's definitely a me-thing and not good for my health because I resort to the most basic meals. This morning, for breakfast, I just grabbed my family-sized pack of popcorn and 2 tangerines and returned to my room. Only later in the afternoon, when I knew the coast was clear, did I venture out to make a sandwich.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The way the last few months have gone, </span><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">I often wonder if I have social anxiety</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">. But I <a href="https://www.helpguide.org/articles/anxiety/social-anxiety-disorder.htm" target="_blank">looked it up</a>, and I don’t think I do. Most websites describe social anxiety as having an intense fear of anxiety-inducing situations, so much so that it disrupts your life to a large extent and you go to great lengths to avoid such situations. On one hand, I don't think I've reached that point. I mean, while popcorn and tangerines aren't an ideal breakfast, at least I’m not starving myself. On the other hand, I wonder what's the threshold for something to be considered as disrupting your normal functioning? Is there a universal threshold or does it differ by person? Because I keep convincing myself I'm okay, and that others have it much worse, but in reality I do feel like I'm being affected to a not-normal extent.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Turns out, some <a href="https://www.helpguide.org/articles/anxiety/social-anxiety-disorder.htm" target="_blank">common social anxiety triggers</a> include meeting new people, being watched while doing something or making small talk. Turns out, moving into a new dwelling-place is a combination of ALL of these things so I’d better get used to it fast. But it’s hard and it often results in my feeling paralyzed, too scared to make a move or ask a question because the optimal window of opportunity hasn’t presented itself. </span><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">So I’m stuck in this world of limbo trying to find the “right time” to do anything: leave my room or ask about laundry or whatever the case may be.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But I think this whole struggle is less anxiety-related and more introvert-related. I shared some of this with a friend who spoke of the cognitive dissonance of being an introvert in a new living situation. You know you need the time alone to recharge (and being at home in the safety/comfort of your room is the ultimate recharge station) but feel like you <i>should </i>be interacting.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">It's not that I'm anxious about talking to new people, it's that I don't have the social energy it takes to do so right now, and it's making me want to hide</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">. I'm trying to diagnose what's wrong with me when I'm really just going through the motions of introversion, as I have <i>for my entire life.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So why all the questions and overthinking now then? What is going on?</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I think I’ve been thrown into more new situations recently that I can handle. It was like this at my internship almost all summer. I was scared to make the slightest move - going to the lunchroom, asking my supervisor a question, or even leaving the building at the end of a work day! (I’m so upset I didn’t blog about this earlier because I have so much to say. It would have been “Struggles of being the new intern” and I could list at least 10 things off the bat that were difficult and took me almost all 9 weeks to adjust to).<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, back to housing. Luckily I’ve found some time and the courage to get out of the house - believe it or not. Like on Sunday, I went to church. I needed to impose structure on my life and having a legit reason to leave the house gave me that structure (which is why I can't wait for classes to start). So yes, I left the house on Sunday and also ventured to the shopping center.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SamTrans bus...a new comfort space. <i>Source: flickr.com</i></td></tr>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I like being out and about on my own actually. When you’re on the go, there’s no time for anyone to stop and stare. There's a comfort in moving through the world anonymously encountering people, knowing that you'll probably never cross paths with them again. It relieves a lot of the pressures of being perfect.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Everything was going fine until I finished the self-checkout at Target, and realized that I’d left the toothbrush holder behind in the trolley - unpaid for.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> So I had a couple options: a) Do what a normal person would do and take it back to a cashier to pay for it or b) Leave it there and do without it until my next shopping run because it would be too awkward to go back into the store, with all my bags, and pay for it.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">What if someone thought I was trying to steal? Does anyone else feel weird walking through stores with shopping bags from previous shopping? Like you know you paid for it, but you feel like everyone’s watching you.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Back to the toothbrush holder. I stared at it for a second, then left it. Too awkward. Too bad.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3ai4HyJ9Nb9c-QXQrnSLNHfYKcNluo8gu71f-Vm3TXc9oMuw5TD0mFrJhYCY7mJ5qwLcqLANMgoMD5AKh8jtE_PPeCBc21Sh2ugDqlCFE9CXR0A-63n0qnDmZxhrhbgK1PLTcADoN6nY/s1600/bitmoji+washing+machine.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="996" data-original-width="804" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3ai4HyJ9Nb9c-QXQrnSLNHfYKcNluo8gu71f-Vm3TXc9oMuw5TD0mFrJhYCY7mJ5qwLcqLANMgoMD5AKh8jtE_PPeCBc21Sh2ugDqlCFE9CXR0A-63n0qnDmZxhrhbgK1PLTcADoN6nY/s320/bitmoji+washing+machine.png" width="258" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adulting? We got this.</td></tr>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But aside from the challenges and ongoing struggle of adjusting, there are some small victories. Like the first time I put the dishwasher to run, without asking anyone how to do it <i>just to make sure </i>even though I’d run the dishwasher at home a million times. And the first time I did my laundry -<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>big win! I put my clothes to wash <i>and </i>dry and nothing went wrong! There was also the fact that I moved my extra stuff into the storage shed on my own. Everything had been sitting outside my room for a day because I hadn’t yet mustered the courage to ask for help clearing some space.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Turns out, it wasn’t that hard clearing the space; I was just scared I would have to move people’s stuff or I might break some unspoken rule about the space that I wouldn’t know until I broke it. But it turned out fine and there was something empowering about neatly fitting my belongings in the shed like I knew what I was doing.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">On second thought, a lot of these wins only felt like wins because I did them without asking for help, which contradicts everything I believe about vulnerability and compassion.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> I think asking for help is important and I think people are more willing to help than we often give them credit for. So I have some mental unpacking to do there. But in the meantime, I will still celebrate the small victories of moving in.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Actually, here’s a victory in which I <i>did </i>ask for help, and the world didn’t end, shocker! There were ants in my room, so I asked my housemate for bug spray, sprayed the ants, and the ants went away. Voila, problem solved. Easy-peasy lemon-squeezy. Why do I feel like I deserve a trophy for that?</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, I saw this post about adulting that pretty much sums everything up.</span><br />
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</span>Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6551318344612845679.post-41257873296334630952018-11-22T07:17:00.005-08:002018-11-22T07:27:41.849-08:00When self-care feels selfish<div style="color: #454545; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Crying because Lilly Singh aka Superwoman, one of my favorite Youtube personalities, recently <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-5OfFk5c01o&t=330s">announced</a> that she’s taking a break for her mental health. I’ve laughed along to her videos and seen her grow for the last 4 years, and now, hearing her talk about the importance of taking care of yourself has struck some chord in me that lay dormant for a while. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #454545; font-size: large;">She said, </span><span style="color: #45818e; font-size: x-large;">“Taking time for yourself and addressing mental health is <i>positive</i>. There’s nothing to feel guilty about. There’s nothing to feel <i>bad</i> about. It is what it is.”</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-size: large;"> 😭</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I’m thinking, <i>if Superwoman can take a break and not feel bad about it then maybe so can I.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">During my uni years, I keep dragging myself through thick and thin and thick again, wearing myself down until I reach the point of utter exhaustion. During the holidays, I’m almost dysfunctional - sleeping late hours then not getting out of bed because I don’t have the energy to do anything. This is me right now, more than halfway through Thanksgiving Break, having done </span><i style="color: #454545; font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: justify;">none </i><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">of my school work and having spent the majority of my days in bed. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stanford is beautiful. The stress is not.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">This quarter, I’ve been struggling to balance things, to adapt to a new role and <a href="https://www.stanforddaily.com/2018/10/23/the-scary-side-of-chasing-your-dream/">chase</a> after my writing dream while facing the daunting reality of graduation and trying to keep up with the pace that Stanford demands.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Every single week has been a grind, and I can’t seem to catch a break. Because </span><span style="color: #45818e; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">when I <i>do </i>catch a break, I feel guilty about it and it barely feels like I’m resting at all.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I joke a lot about “treating yourself” and justifying things in the name of self-care, but that’s only when self-care is something prettily packaged like painting my nails, or doing a face mask, or eating extra dessert. The quick fixes that make me <i>feel </i>better. But when it comes to the type of self-care that addresses root causes and actually eases my stress, I feel <i>bad</i>. I hate having to turn down an opportunity, or say no to someone, or cancel a lunch or meeting because I’m overextended. Yet, that’s what this quarter has come down to.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">About five weeks in, I made some drastic <a href="https://www.stanforddaily.com/2018/11/16/six-small-changes-to-make-in-your-life/">changes</a> to my schedule in order to regain control of my sleep and sanity. The only thing I <i>could </i>control at that point was my social calendar, so I canceled every single social engagement I had, even if it was just a short lunch with a friend. Yes, I still ate, but on my own schedule. And those chunks of time that I saved were the difference between a bad week and a hellish week. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">things I have to ask myself to stay functional</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But to cancel on my friends, I had to send several texts that went something like this: “I'm so sorry to cancel but I’m sleep deprived and behind on everything and trying to get back on track. I’ll check back in next week. Again really sorry for flaking 😟".</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yeah, it felt awful, but also freeing. I knew it’s what I needed to do. And of course, everyone was super supportive, wishing me the best, telling me that they understand and I should take the time I need. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The problem is, I still haven’t caught myself, and I haven’t really checked back in with people. It’s more like they checked back in with me. It’s not that I don’t care, it’s that I’ve reached my limit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">There’s a part of me that wonders if people will eventually get frustrated with my failure to invest time and energy into spending time with them and just give up on me and our friendship. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh3wqGZgsN5OWVPrV5XzsVaoj8jBZa0xj4rAUeYfRV4H8tRa96ah-PbuCfDj9dKIu3RLURswIMyVgXVUB3zFqhrp87JYuqroNFjN0xk6LhJKKkz57zojd1kHU3n4PncSvIbL1s970igQA/s1600/IMG_3330.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh3wqGZgsN5OWVPrV5XzsVaoj8jBZa0xj4rAUeYfRV4H8tRa96ah-PbuCfDj9dKIu3RLURswIMyVgXVUB3zFqhrp87JYuqroNFjN0xk6LhJKKkz57zojd1kHU3n4PncSvIbL1s970igQA/s320/IMG_3330.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">people I care about up on my wall</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #45818e; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">It doesn’t feel right that I’m sacrificing one of the things that is most important to me - human relationships - in the name of self-care.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Can I really claim to care about community and connecting with people if that’s the one thing I can’t handle when I’m stressed out?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I feel like I’m just disappointing people, and myself, and I’m not really sure how I got to this place. I keep trying to think of what else I could give up…what commitment can I drop in order to regain control of my life? No matter how many times I go through the list of things I’m doing, I realize that there’s nothing I could back out of at this stage in the quarter. It would either make someone else’s life way too hard, or create a huge mess for someone else to clean up, or would mean sacrificing my personal goals and dreams.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So I’m sticking with what I’ve committed to this quarter, while brainstorming ways to make my next 2 quarters better. I don’t want to leave Stanford more burnt out and anxious than I came in, but with my current trajectory, that’s exactly what will happen. To avoid that, I already have a list of concrete things that I will <i>not </i>be doing in order to free up my schedule in the Winter. This feels like progress. There is definitely hope for improvement.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But in the meanwhile, I’m mentally exhausted and emotionally drained. I’m overthinking everything because I have no time to process things. </span><span style="color: #45818e; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">I’m staying up late because the late night/early morning hours are the only hours I have to myself, and that’s when I can finally <i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kN0iD0pI3o0">breathe</a>. </i></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivLD3c56luo4QKTpWwuz_KzJQK58l91GzJfsA57HEIlZ11ax5sBGTi7mfE0qqOBejlUe_xZ1DOQfafhFcebBpeRFlF49ujfI3kMI_vaRSxBqxuTvMg3LM4FWCjQb0JZ3oxD9yJjYH6kvc/s1600/IMG_3327.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivLD3c56luo4QKTpWwuz_KzJQK58l91GzJfsA57HEIlZ11ax5sBGTi7mfE0qqOBejlUe_xZ1DOQfafhFcebBpeRFlF49ujfI3kMI_vaRSxBqxuTvMg3LM4FWCjQb0JZ3oxD9yJjYH6kvc/s320/IMG_3327.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my room finally feels like a home</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">That’s why I mostly blog at 4am - because my mind is free enough to get the creative juices flowing. A couple weekends ago, I stayed up until 3am decorating my room because I finally felt calm and present enough to do it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">On the outside, I appear to be functioning okay - to be thriving even - albeit noticeably sleep-deprived. People often describe me as “put-together” or “chill” or “handling things so well”. I take these as compliments and roll with it, but it sometimes feels like a front. On one level, I suppose I am thriving because I get stuff done and submit assignments of decent quality (even if they’re late or right on the nose of the deadline). But what people don’t see, and what I also underestimate, is the personal toll on my health and sanity: the late nights and sleepy days and difficult moments.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I’m running myself down down down, and when I have a break, I try not to hate myself for being in bed all day doing nothing. That’s been the cycle this entire week.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #454545;">I need to get over myself though. The only person making me feel bad about resting is </span><i style="color: #454545;">me</i><span style="color: #454545;">. </span></span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Everyone else fully supports rest, and I fully support my friends when they rest. The </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">support</span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> has been rollin' in all week.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #454545;">One friend told me, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #674ea7;">“YAS. We deserve it,”</span><span style="color: #454545;"> when I told her I’d been in bed all day.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #454545;">When I texted another friend saying I’d been sleeping a lot, he said, </span><span style="color: #674ea7;">“Good, I hoped you were.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #454545;">And my mom, out of the blue, messaged me: </span><span style="color: #674ea7;">“Next week this time you would already be back to classes. This week will fly, please rest & enjoy.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Everyone is fully on board with getting rest, and I guess it’s time for me to be too. There’s still a small part of me that feels bad about being a flake, but I think the truth is that it's not selfish to take care of yourself when you need to. Especially at this time in my life when my obligations are mostly to myself. Right now, there are few things worth sacrificing my health for. I'm thinking that things get more complicated as I get older, but for now, I have to do the best I can for myself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #454545;">Besides, </span><span style="color: #454545;"><i>yes</i>, I work hard</span><span style="color: #454545;">.</span></span><span style="color: #454545; font-size: large;"> </span><i style="color: #454545; font-size: x-large;">Yes, </i><span style="color: #454545; font-size: large;">I go above and beyond when I don’t always have to. </span><span style="color: #45818e; font-size: x-large;"><i>Yes, </i>I deserve a break. Imagine, I sometimes forget that!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">At the end of the day, I have so much to be thankful for, and the privilege of being able to stress about university life is not lost on me. I like to describe Stanford as hard, and stressful, and a high-pressure environment (not because it’s competitive, but because everyone is so internally driven), but also <i>comfortable</i>. We’re stressing out in the comfort of our dorm rooms, surrounded by (mostly) great weather, readily available food, and support and resources for every situation. This doesn’t minimize the exhaustion I feel, but it puts things into perspective, which is important. I can take a moment, look around me, and find a reason to smile. Not everyone can do that. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Most of all, I’m thankful that I <i>can </i>take a break when I need to. I just have to be brave enough to let myself rest.</span></div>
Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6551318344612845679.post-13185277188688847102018-10-15T17:10:00.001-07:002018-12-21T13:01:59.070-08:00Sleep Deprivation is Changing Me for the Worst<style type="text/css">
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>When you spend the first weeks of the school year being sleep deprived and overextended, everything that happens suddenly turns into a drastic situation<i>. </i>Plus, senior year is tough!</b></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">been sleepy since freshman year</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">College is rough, as evidenced by my <a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/search/label/university">many previous posts</a> ranting about the ups and downs, busyness and stress that comes along with trying to be and do everything in a short 4 year span.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But here we are, in senior year, because <i>somehow </i>I made it through. And honestly, I'm ready to leave already. 😅It's more complicated than that though.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">One part of me is ready to savor every moment of senior year and enjoy this college life while it lasts. Because when next am I gonna be living in a place where</span></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I don't have to cook or clean</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I can create my own class schedule</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">and so much more?!</span></li>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well plot twist: another (huge) part of me cannot wait to be out of here. Because never have I been in a place where</span></div>
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<li class="li1"><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I feel constantly pressured to work</span></li>
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<li class="li1"><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">my calendar looks like some twisted game of tetris and the game is about to end</span></li>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Perhaps a part of being a senior is being <i>so done</i> with the whole college thing. But another huge part of senior year is being stressed about what comes next. Everyone I meet wants to know: <i>what are you thinking of doing after college? </i>I have a plan that I feel decently about, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready for the reality of graduation and <i>moving on.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But I am here to talk about sleep.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">family caught me slippin' on our vacation</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">For my entire life, I've been really bad at having a healthy sleep routine and have become notorious for falling asleep in all manner of public places: in the chapel during my high school’s morning assembly, on a crowded bus in Paris, on a glass-bottomed boat going out to sea, in any and every car ride lasting more than 5 minutes...and the list goes on. For the most part, this is not something I’m necessarily ashamed of. It’s cool that I can sleep through anything, and apparently, <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2016/12/16/world/what-in-the-world/japan-inemuri-public-sleeping.html">in Japan, napping in public is a sign of hard work</a>! This particular skill does get dicey when it comes to class, like falling asleep at the front of my Nutrition lecture, the one taught by my major advisor; or nodding off during a 5-person Spanish class abroad. Admittedly, I’m not as proud of those moments.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I’ve made many past attempts to fix my sleep habits. Never have I succeeded in becoming a real morning person (I don’t think that’s in the books for me), but there have been times when I was more intentional about my sleep schedule. For example, my sophomore winter, I prioritized sleep like never before and my life was <i>so much better, </i>if only for a brief 10 weeks. The sad things is, I can’t think of a more recent example of healthy sleep habits, which brings me to my current issue: the non-existence of my sleep schedule this quarter.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Don’t even ask me what time I usually go to bed, because in the last 3 weeks, it's ranged from 12 midnight to 4:30AM and everything in between. It is <i>not a good situation</i> but in ways I hadn’t expected. I know <a href="https://www.hopkinsmedicine.org/health/healthy-sleep/health-risks/the-effects-of-sleep-deprivation">sleep deprivation and lack of a sleep routine throws your body out of wack in a slew of cognitive, psychological and physical ways</a>, but I really didn’t think it could change who I was and how I responded to things so drastically.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">There have been a couple instances in the last 2 weeks where I found myself reacting uncharacteristically badly to situations. Exhibit A: our neighbors pranked us in the most innocuous way - a little chanting outside our house at 11pm and some notes slid in through a window. What we have going on is a fake rivalry for all intents and purposes. But that Tuesday night, I remember sitting in my room in my usual sleep-deprived state, and clearly I had a chip on my shoulder about <i>something. </i>Because when I heard the chanting outside my window, I slid into my house slippers, grabbed my keys and marched downstairs like <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=mr+nebbercracker+monster+house&oq=mr+nebber&aqs=chrome.0.69i59l2j69i57j0l3.1464j1j4&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8">Mr. Nebbercracker from Monster House</a>, the crabby old man who chases away anyone who steps foot on his lawn. I was on a mission. <i>Who </i>did they think they were chanting outside my window at 11-freakin’-pm?</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Downstairs, I throw open the front door to a mob of college students with silly grins on their faces like <i>heha we got 'em</i>.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ2VDusPsfeE250-9YWFmoMoC3SrdzAte-l7lFQX4eJk0wA2j2GalGSwD5hj7G-9kz2sYZR2Y0lMQN2e72mbbMbcnPonqX5eRikB0-7lGjKaIwX93QutJaqMruokwThm_txvITTR_hQAs/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-10-15+at+4.29.22+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="346" data-original-width="440" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ2VDusPsfeE250-9YWFmoMoC3SrdzAte-l7lFQX4eJk0wA2j2GalGSwD5hj7G-9kz2sYZR2Y0lMQN2e72mbbMbcnPonqX5eRikB0-7lGjKaIwX93QutJaqMruokwThm_txvITTR_hQAs/s320/Screen+Shot+2018-10-15+at+4.29.22+PM.png" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">where it all went down: outside my beautiful home</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">photo credit <a href="https://rde.stanford.edu/studenthousing/self-operated-houses">Stanford RDE</a></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Hey, we’re not about to do this,” I declare. Someone tries to get past me into the building and I bar them from entering. “No, no, goodnight, goodbye.” <i>Click</i>. I close the door and head back upstairs, feeling frustrated, ticked off, irritated, and every other word that means “annoyed”.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Later that week, as I debrief this incident with my friends/co-staff, I realize I may have overreacted. Since <i>when </i>could I not take a joke? I mean, I take most things more seriously than most people, and if you crack a joke it might take me a second to catch on, but I was getting my knickers in a twist over <i>this? </i>Some friendly fake rivalry? <i>Who </i>had I become?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #45818e; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">And that was the first moment I realized just how irritated I had become. Being irritated was no longer a reaction, it had become my default setting.</span> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Everything seemed to get on my nerves, and became a bigger deal than it actually was.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Exhibit B: my poetry class. I joined this class late, so I went to class for the first time feeling already behind and unqualified. On top of that, the syllabus read: “come prepared to class with all the readings. I will know if you don’t do them”. There was a very <i>I’m-watching-you </i>tone to it. First of all, no, Prof, you won’t know if I didn’t do them because since freshman year I’ve been mastering the art of contributing to a class even with limited reading knowledge. And second of all, why all the pressure, Prof?! I’m already stressed. So that was strike one.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then, for the next class, he sends out an assignment description and poem packet that reads: “Do NOT read the packet 2 hours before class. Read it NOW and work on your poem in advance”. Of course, I only see this when I open the packet an hour before class, and I’m doubly stressed out. I’m in the library, printing my assignment at the last-minute, reading the packet, feeling like I’m already failing myself and the prof. And the words “do NOT read 2 hours before class” are running through my head, taunting me every second. I felt personally attacked.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Because I <i>am </i>the type of student to do the readings 2 hours before class, but not always because I want to. Clearly, I’d much rather be reading ahead and staying on top of it but that’s just now how the cookie crumbles most of the time. Most of the time, I don’t have time to do things way in advance, and I’m scrambling to do them at the last moment, which brings all the self-hatred bubbling to the forefront as I rush through the readings and ask myself: <i>Why am I like this??? </i>So I felt like the prof was trying to make me feel even worse. I wanted to tell him, <i>we’re college students</i>! We’re all trying our darn best to make the most of our crazy schedules and commitments, and you shaming us into doing your work is really a mean move. I don’t need the additional pressure.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So I attend the 2nd class feeling terrible and nervous because I feel like the professor can see straight through to my soul and just <i>know </i>that I didn’t finish all the reading. Strike two prof.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then he mentions in a somewhat brusque manner that the class isn’t participating enough, reminding us that participation is a huge part of our grade, so we need to speak up a bit more. Okay, the way I just phrased it sounds reasonable, but the way he said it made me feel attacked once more. <i>I’m trying my best okay, </i>I wanted to say. Strike three prof!</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">For the next week, I complain about this situation to anyone who would listen. They all sympathize with me and it is nice to feel supported. Then I attend class the next week - when I started getting more sleep - and I struggle to remember why I was so incensed the week before.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The professor actually just cares a lot about poetry. When we handed up a list of images the week before, he compiled his favorite from each student into a handout. Then he individually complimented each image. Yes, that gave my self-esteem the boost it needed and reconciled the professor in my eyes. It also put things into perspective. </span><span style="color: #45818e; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;">I was shocked at how I’d reacted to the previous week and how I'd taken everything <i>so darn personally.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_d1D2ujgS8klktWuIygl6SEW04-o2mXEOCC9_6SZwhL-zFg18rEBmv7KPuTNqC5L86Mn9GzTd1VtFIRg2pJo33iQsKJy9xkZOUrjUMervh0MA2AiCNwD7Ekd5KYJyr1-xXAGV4_sf_MA/s1600/IMG_3148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="750" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_d1D2ujgS8klktWuIygl6SEW04-o2mXEOCC9_6SZwhL-zFg18rEBmv7KPuTNqC5L86Mn9GzTd1VtFIRg2pJo33iQsKJy9xkZOUrjUMervh0MA2AiCNwD7Ekd5KYJyr1-xXAGV4_sf_MA/s320/IMG_3148.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">someone shared this meme on facebook today &</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Could it be, </i>I wondered, <i>that my sleep-deprivation and uncharacteristic irritability was causing me to see everything through a distorted lens? Is this the opposite of the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rose-colored_glasses">rose-colored-glasses</a> world view?</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I mean, there’s no way to say for sure that sleep deprivation was the cause of all this. I was also pretty overwhelmed and in a state of constant mild stress over everything that was happening. I had not a moment of free time to process anything or think about things. Self-care was non-existent. Honestly, it’s all probably intertwined.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But I do know for sure that there’s a marked difference in how I feel and behave when noticeably sleep-deprived versus when I’m not. When I actually get enough sleep, getting out of bed doesn’t become easier, but facing the challenge of the new day does. My calendar doesn’t daunt me as much, and I feel emotionally prepared for situations. Take away my sleep, and suddenly I don’t know who I am or how to react.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Long story short, it’s probably time to attend to my sleeping schedule and fix it before it gets even more out of hand. Exhibit C: I stayed up until 4am writing this, until my eyes were drooping and my contacts were drying out. Not a great move, but I really wanted to write this. So here we are.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Whoever you are, whatever your stage of life, please get enough sleep tonight!</span></div>
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<br />Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6551318344612845679.post-54658025965036729012018-08-07T00:21:00.000-07:002018-11-22T06:22:23.443-08:00On Adult Friendships<style type="text/css">
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Moving on from high school and being at university has me thinking a lot about adult friendships. My friendships no longer fit into a mold, and that’s both wonderful and scary. </span></h3>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAe2YpttM7_8dYP8g0B77_V72wp1-uTD3UJ-MCPRmKp5ULXwjwJMIUmGQ22-QqOBckJxtAJFtbLBegTOfSUs5ei075hX_E-IKJ5i0i5vu0PmLn6JJ5KpsKCjZdlVbphWGMGMmdz9Qz1mQ/s1600/tobagobacks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1141" data-original-width="1439" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAe2YpttM7_8dYP8g0B77_V72wp1-uTD3UJ-MCPRmKp5ULXwjwJMIUmGQ22-QqOBckJxtAJFtbLBegTOfSUs5ei075hX_E-IKJ5i0i5vu0PmLn6JJ5KpsKCjZdlVbphWGMGMmdz9Qz1mQ/s400/tobagobacks.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Last week, I took a #GirlsTrip to Tobago with 4 friends from secondary school. It was a much-needed, long-awaited trip, but in the days leading up I was more nervous and agitated than excited. I hadn’t seen these girls in over 6 months, including my long time bestie from high school whom I’ve officially known for just over 10 years. Our relationships hadn’t been the same since we'd graduated, and it’s been interesting navigating these changes. Like everything else in high school, friendships were molded by the structure and routine of school. We had classes together, ate lunch together, studied together and went out on weekends or during school breaks. There was always a time and a place for friendship, and leaving school suddenly left me in a place where I had to re-evaluate the meaning of friendship, and the time and effort that they take. My friendships no longer fit into a mold, which is both wonderful and scary, and worth thinking about.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">For a long time I’ve been thinking about the way we label friendships. At 12 years old, I remember that at school we put so much emphasis on who was BFFs with whom, and we came up with all sorts of labels for each other. I had a bestie, who at some point became my BFFFL (best friend forever for life), but another girl in class upped that by becoming her BFFFLAD (best friend forever for life and death). Then there was my TFBFL (track and field buddy for life) who got upgraded to my TFPBFL (track and field <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDYEGkrr0ZR2mJ8Ne1lWIAZBb_a_xeb7A7wcRwmPWuk3LT6rQjS7PzOLRbl7TmZ8U96Nb8AO1tbiA3reVKWX3m1-QvSBj4Tn_Ej2Vc4MilaxGojTm370b09HayG8Sk0S47gPKnzTVm7BY/s1600/convent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDYEGkrr0ZR2mJ8Ne1lWIAZBb_a_xeb7A7wcRwmPWuk3LT6rQjS7PzOLRbl7TmZ8U96Nb8AO1tbiA3reVKWX3m1-QvSBj4Tn_Ej2Vc4MilaxGojTm370b09HayG8Sk0S47gPKnzTVm7BY/s320/convent.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">High school friends circa 2012</td></tr>
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and pan buddy for life) when we played for junior panorama together. These labels were cute, and they stuck - I still call my bestie “bestie”, and the acronym “TFPBFL” holds so many fond memories for me. But as an adult (yes, at 22 I’m gonna claim my adulthood like never before💪🏾) it’s harder to call someone my best friend, because what does that <i>mean, </i>really? We were discussing this in Tobago a couple days ago, and my bestie said: </span><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">“You know these millennials - they don’t like to be labelled.”</span><span style="font-size: large;"> It’s true, we don’t. And we don’t need to be. And even if we choose to label each other, the concept of a best friend is different for everyone.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD3HhL_B4IOxCztd6lPXDJPKPjnuPVg9FJ3Tgq-5obX7i8sV_hoRAz_gOqUPJzzbmkcKAp_YF7TqybqrTecQ4Qh11OWfJ9VQWTEThD73w5NqkYVmwsgezjgfprHOvDDIBcpjqoVxJgYUs/s1600/friendcollage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="789" data-original-width="940" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD3HhL_B4IOxCztd6lPXDJPKPjnuPVg9FJ3Tgq-5obX7i8sV_hoRAz_gOqUPJzzbmkcKAp_YF7TqybqrTecQ4Qh11OWfJ9VQWTEThD73w5NqkYVmwsgezjgfprHOvDDIBcpjqoVxJgYUs/s320/friendcollage.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It’s more than that, though. The concept of a best friend, and even friendship itself, changes over time, too. </span><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Friendships evolve as we evolve, and this has been a hard pill for me to swallow since starting university</span><span style="font-size: large;">.</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"> Of course, moving thousands of miles away from home means that your friendships won’t be the same. It was unrealistic of me to expect that they would. Yet amidst the new and troubling distance between me and my high school friends, there was the exciting prospect of meeting new people and developing new relationships.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Still, I struggle to keep up with friends from home, because it’s way harder to stay on top of someone’s life when you only see them a couple times a year. And though that’s what Skype and WhatsApp and FaceTime are for, making the time to video chat with someone is a choice and a habit, one I’m still trying to develop. These friendships no longer come as naturally as they did in high school; they’ve changed, <i>we’ve </i>changed, and we’ve gotta adjust for these changes. My mom recently reminded me that </span><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">in life, we have to </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">“work with what <i>is</i>”</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">, not what coulda, shoulda or woulda been.</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"> Perfect advice for idealistic me, who finds herself dwelling on the past and the shoulda-woulda-coulda's, while missing what’s standing right in front of me - people who care about me and vice versa.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The other thing about best-friendship or friendship in general is that there’s no one person who knows everything about you, and with whom you can share every single aspect of your life. I wrote about this in <a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2017/11/life-series-of-approximations.html">an earlier post</a> as I lamented the fact that no one can “really, truly 100% <i>get </i>you”. Disheartening at first, but also a relief to know that we’re all too multi-dimensional and beautifully complicated to be completely understood by any one person. </span><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">We share different things with different people, and for every person that you share your life with, they see you differently and hold a different part of your soul.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> Isn’t that wonderful?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What fuels and makes a friendship anyway? I think that's different for everyone. Each relationship is special in its own way, characterized by its own set of unsaid rules and inside jokes. I can think of friendships that thrive on spontaneous, long conversations, and others that thrive on occasional check-ins via WhatsApp. Sometimes, hearing and seeing how other people’s friendships play out makes me wonder whether I’m doing it right. Is it fine that I don’t have a group chat of best friends that tell each other everything? Is it uncool that there have been several times this year when I wanted to go out and couldn’t think of a single <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Throwback to the time I attended Viennese Ball on my own,<br />
because I didn't have friends to roll out with. Luckily, I ended up <br />
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person to go with? Is it okay that I can count on my two hands the number of people I feel like I truly connect with? I have to constantly remind myself that I’m okay, and that </span><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">my constellation of friendships is unique. It doesn’t need to be compared to anyone else’s.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In fact, the time I spend worrying and comparing my friendships to others' could be spent reinforcing the friendships that I have: sending a text, making a call, writing a note. Often, it’s the small things that matter, not just when it comes to friendship, but also in life. Isn’t it the nicest feeling when you receive a “Hey just checking in to see if you’re okay” text? Too often I hesitate to reach out because I feel bad about not responding to their last message, or flaking on a hangout, but I want to move past that and cherish my friends even in small ways. Life is too short.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So here’s to our friends. The friends that you can stay up and talk to all night, the friends you party with, the friends you study with, the friends you catch a meal with once a month but it feels like no time has passed. The friends from back home that you talk to less than you should, the friends that you tag in memes, the friends that you <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCnX7ojkx0JA2M_UrT7F0S27I7BTrgSqAdGL5u9v8xJvcQO9JTGhhyphenhyphenqWpiOt6ggymgqvErfasg23F2tRqEWNy1YvWD7b_63VeldBV-vNdSJk1loOb01xD-qrwUeAgzfA0ytjfVN5t9Mv4/s1600/calypso.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCnX7ojkx0JA2M_UrT7F0S27I7BTrgSqAdGL5u9v8xJvcQO9JTGhhyphenhyphenqWpiOt6ggymgqvErfasg23F2tRqEWNy1YvWD7b_63VeldBV-vNdSJk1loOb01xD-qrwUeAgzfA0ytjfVN5t9Mv4/s320/calypso.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Friends who share my passion - steelpan!</td></tr>
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see once in a blue moon but would still invite to your birthday dinner. The friends you don’t consider close but who enjoy your company nonetheless. The friends you make through shared interests and passions. The music friends, the church friends, the class friends, the dorm friends. The friends you never see, but know you could count on. The friends that used to be, but are no longer. The friends that are older, or younger, but still <i>get </i>you. The friend in your mother, or your father, or another family member that loves and supports you unconditionally. The friend in your brother or sister, who annoys the life out of you but in whom you know you could <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixEvMPcQwO0F8PPlziCSpN6jXqztQICazF7McbOOTfr3xpB7UatmkNmqbgbTFz-kJSR0PJ5XvWyd03i82o_JiR_734ivoNLn6AdjrVZ6I3qGeS99MBi3YlZu5EMTb7OWg9nC0AXkaoxnQ/s1600/brothers.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="526" data-original-width="658" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixEvMPcQwO0F8PPlziCSpN6jXqztQICazF7McbOOTfr3xpB7UatmkNmqbgbTFz-kJSR0PJ5XvWyd03i82o_JiR_734ivoNLn6AdjrVZ6I3qGeS99MBi3YlZu5EMTb7OWg9nC0AXkaoxnQ/s320/brothers.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">it's cool when your brothers are also your confidantes</td></tr>
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confide. The friends you meet and get super close to in a short period of time, wondering how you fell-for-them-in-a-friend-way so quickly. The mutual friends that you don’t know that well, but still appreciate because a friend to your friend is your friend, too. And, of course, the friends you don’t talk to anymore, but still care about deeply. The friends you may have lost touch with, but yearn to reconnect with.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">They are all important, and the extent of the role they play in your life ebbs back and forth as your life changes. </span><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">As you change, so do your friendships - some grow, some wither, and that is all <i>okay</i>.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">To all the friends I’ve made over the years, regardless of how close we are now, thank you for your friendship. It’s a beautiful gift, one that I cherish. And for the record, I had a great trip to Tobago. It was refreshing, relaxing, rejuvenating, and quelled my fears about adult friendships. No matter how much time had passed, it was a relief to know that I could still meet up with old friends and have a grand time. Maybe that won’t always be the case, but for now, this is what is, and for that I am grateful.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdhJOV-Z9LUfIT4Sw6TcOZ2C4J9iApsL4cAK0DanpzltQtbS_Bk_9f1xzpJ6BXgJPOgj-iN7RCOlR633gKXW5cifXbNBXlOn-YVnnONZ2hrS-qJNZukLimHj7pYaZDIPqPgvsY6gcKghk/s1600/sahara.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdhJOV-Z9LUfIT4Sw6TcOZ2C4J9iApsL4cAK0DanpzltQtbS_Bk_9f1xzpJ6BXgJPOgj-iN7RCOlR633gKXW5cifXbNBXlOn-YVnnONZ2hrS-qJNZukLimHj7pYaZDIPqPgvsY6gcKghk/s400/sahara.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">our last night in Tobago, at Sahara Lounge</span></td></tr>
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Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6551318344612845679.post-47540094560125140032018-01-01T23:50:00.000-08:002018-01-01T08:13:15.730-08:00The Evolution of New Year’s Resolutions<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Documenting almost a decade of new years resolutions: successes and failures and everything in between</span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yes, I am 100% that #NewYearNewMe chick, jumping at every opportunity to make a fresh start, improve myself and set goals that I may or may not achieve. Of course, New Year’s is no exception - in fact it’s the fresh start I get the most excited about, after my birthday, a new school year, or even a new school quarter. But my approach to New Year’s Resolutions has changed over the years and I thought it would be interesting to journey back in time to see how I got here: a girl declaring with absolute conviction to anyone who would listen that <b><i>2018 is gonna be my year.</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I may not have been setting goals back then, but I was still the girl who was convinced 2009 would be <i>her year. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">“<i>This new year’s gonna be awesome! I’m finally free of 2008 and all it’s craziness. 2009 is gonna be d best! I can just feel it.”</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b>2010</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>This </i>is when the New year’s resolution-setting began. I went hard; I outlined a numbered list of ways to improve 5 different areas of my life: self-improvement, self-esteem, spirituality, confidence & focus. Specific, measurable, achievable? Yes. Realistic and time-bound? No. I was setting goals, but they certainly weren’t <a href="https://s3.amazonaws.com/mentoring.redesign/s3fs-public/SMART-Goals.jpg">S-M-A-R-T.</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But I've come a long way when it comes to those 2010 resolutions: I’ve definitely managed to be more tolerant, write things down so I don’t forget and I believe in myself more.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">There are also the failed resolutions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #454545;">For example, LOL at the fact that the very first thing on </span><span style="color: orange;">astrid’s</span><span style="color: purple;">2010</span><span style="color: blue;">new</span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">year’s</span><span style="color: magenta;">resolutions</span><span style="color: orange;">which</span><span style="color: purple;">she</span><span style="color: blue;">plans</span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">on</span><span style="color: magenta;">keeping</span><span style="color: orange;">(no</span><span style="color: purple;">cheating!)</span><span style="color: #454545;"> was to stop biting my nails, and 7 years later, here we are, with short nails and a pack of ImPress™ fake nails to ring in the new year.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It’s also funny that at 21 years old you can find yourself still working on things that 14-year-old you wanted to improve: time-management, caring too much about what people think, spirituality, doubting myself, trying to stick to my opinions/morals/values, stress management. All proof that life’s a journey.</span></div>
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<span style="color: magenta; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b>2011</b></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the 2011 bookmark that started<br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The year I started doing a Year-in-Review. I actually ended 2010 feeling like I’d achieved some of the goals set out above. I felt like I’d matured emotionally and mentally and felt like God was strengthening and empowering me. Nothing felt impossible. Was this a turning point? Probably.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">What didn’t change was the fact that I was convinced 2011 was going to be my year:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>"I know 2011 is going to bring great, new & exciting things. Something significant & exciting & life changing & influential is gonna happen in 2011. I can just feel it!”</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Funny story, 2011 was the year I had my first “relationship” and “break-up” - yea, it mostly involved texting, and late night phone calls, and going to the movies like 3 times but it sure taught me A LOT about myself, and what I wanted from relationships. That’s where “the list” came from (the "perfect guy" checklist. Luckily, I've long grown out of thinking that the perfect guy exists. Obviously. Not because #menaretrash but because <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t93u0qg5q_M">nobody's perfect</a>. You live, you learn, surely).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">BUT, point is, I predicted that something significant was gonna happen that year and IT DID and right now I have a feeling that 2018 is gonna be <i>my year </i>so who’s to say it isn’t?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Somehow, I became even more aggressive with my goal-setting.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>“CHEERS TO A NEW AND IMPROVED ASTRID (I know I said the same thing for 2011 but there’s NO SUCH THING as perfection and this year, I </i><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><i>swear</i></span><i>, I’m gonna be the best me ever!)</i></span></blockquote>
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<i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Cheers to forgetting the past year and all the downs, disappointments, trials and sufferings.</span></i></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Let’s celebrate this new year! This opportunity to reinvent yourself and be the person you WANT to be! Yes! Yes! Yes!"</i> </span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">- you’d think I had a career in motivational speaking ahead of me with all these “yes”s and exclamation points - </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">“<i>Cheesy and cliched as it is, I always make new year’s resolutions. Although ppl say what’s the point waiting for the new year to instill change"</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">- which my mom literally <i>just </i>told me when she heard I was blogging about New Year’s Resolutions oh my word - </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>“but I say the new year is the PERFECT time to instill change because it’s easier to forget the past and start AFRESH.”</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yes, you <i>go</i> 2012 Astrid! Look at you justifying your excitement about New Year’s Resolutions. And I couldn't agree more: it <i>is</i> easier to forget the past when you enter a new year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yes, Jan 1st is just another day, but isn’t it amazing that we have the power in our minds to look at it like turning over a new leaf? And if we can do that on Jan 1st, then we can surely do that for any other day of the year. Which means any day is a day for change. Isn't that great news?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b>2013 & 2014: Missing</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Why? Because I got an iPhone. I know in my heart that there is a direct correlation between my iPhone acquisition and my decreased journalling, increased moodiness, and increased depressive moods. There is no doubt about it. <a href="https://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2014/12/a-letter-from-your-emotions-why-they.html">My emotions went way out of whack when I got that phone</a>. It makes sense because journalling was my way of working through life and emotions and difficulty, so started spending way more time online and less time journalling, I couldn’t handle things as well as I used to. Cue mini-mental breakdowns. Cue CandyCrush and Instagram and Twitter addictions. Cue self-doubt and <a href="https://s3.amazonaws.com/media.eremedia.com/uploads/2015/10/27174034/MissingOutImg_1-900x578.jpg">FOMO</a>. It still feels like I lost pieces of myself that I’m just starting to recover. BUT in 2014 I <a href="https://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2014/09/20-facts-about-me-yo.html">started blogging</a> which was - and still is - a pretty big deal for me and something I’m hugely proud of.</span></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b>2015</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Shock of all shocks, I DID NOT journal on Jan 1st but on Jan 2nd this year 😮 But guess what? I didn’t beat up about it:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>“I’m over that whole ‘beating up’ scene. NO more of that. So I started journalling on Jan 2nd. Big whoop.”</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And then I did the most extensive year-in-review ever because truly, this was a turning point: the event(s) that marked my “transition into adulthood” (or some semblance of adulthood). Anyway, I’m not gonna recap the whole 2014 year-in-review, but A LOT happened in that year: 18th birthday, finishing secondary school, first job, a life-changing-evening-of-epiphanies I dubbed 'Supernova', college apps…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">With all that in mind, 2015 was GAME TIME. As proclaimed by this quote that was circulating at the time:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOkufnrj8BeRNBN5MbjelEfDk_BPegefCUtj1-F_aGQvCyqS4fkBOz-tZbLngQpIkPuJjKnsbVQpB3ZZD8h7k9EUtfR87CtAKnNKfvrMBWbQgjOC02qU94NVYIkTtCpGbbCHlcRtLkPbA/s1600/2015+game+time.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOkufnrj8BeRNBN5MbjelEfDk_BPegefCUtj1-F_aGQvCyqS4fkBOz-tZbLngQpIkPuJjKnsbVQpB3ZZD8h7k9EUtfR87CtAKnNKfvrMBWbQgjOC02qU94NVYIkTtCpGbbCHlcRtLkPbA/s320/2015+game+time.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">My goals were short, but I'm proud to say that, looking back, I I actually worked on these things in 2015:</span></div>
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<li style="color: #454545; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Keep my word</span></i></li>
<li style="color: #454545; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Write more*</span></i></li>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPA5ogEDK058gRXGNDjEcTHQK94h70Kb6Yu0iXOPkOxcoCTH7raETZ8EjTVHuazIiilJI7pl9AcqvalaNK2WjPTdWJswtvUmxLSc4Rr6yEean3Yd0zEs8AuUjnotNK3tsFI8FVA5WJ7tE/s1600/neil+gaiman+quote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="438" data-original-width="539" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPA5ogEDK058gRXGNDjEcTHQK94h70Kb6Yu0iXOPkOxcoCTH7raETZ8EjTVHuazIiilJI7pl9AcqvalaNK2WjPTdWJswtvUmxLSc4Rr6yEean3Yd0zEs8AuUjnotNK3tsFI8FVA5WJ7tE/s320/neil+gaiman+quote.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">*The quote that inspired me circa 2015</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then I outlined some smaller goals that included “keep fingers and toes matching as far as possible” which gives you some indication of how not-serious I was<i> </i>about these mini goals. So let’s move on.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b>2016</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">This journal is in my dorm room! In a nutshell, at this point I was one quarter into my freshman year, started accruing hella life lessons (because what is college without a life lesson thrown at you every other day), and started to <a href="https://thetab.com/us/stanford/2016/02/07/filed-home-sweet-home-thought-36">grapple with the idea of having 2 homes</a>. What a time.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b>2017</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Sad to announce that I barely even acknowledged the new year at the start of 2017 because my mind was preoccupied with things I’d prioritized over self-improvement. Maybe that’s why 2017 was such a <a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2017/06/to-end-of-sophomore-year.html">trying year</a>? I just wasn’t focused. The only memento from New Year’s Day 2017 that I can find is this Facebook post, in which I couldn't even bother to make a fresh status, instead sharing the 2015 memory:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ_EdYrHOFV2-URMRXhBhNUxitopVU853g542XBOWPjXy6Z8DvfMHdnElaPq4fme3oW303HBnsHTEXmtE3FQ4mba4_5F-J6D-jB0iHqMYLybIbZRgFMz2wZhP7rZuv89ZhKtJw3VP_J40/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-12-31+at+7.39.07+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="1026" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ_EdYrHOFV2-URMRXhBhNUxitopVU853g542XBOWPjXy6Z8DvfMHdnElaPq4fme3oW303HBnsHTEXmtE3FQ4mba4_5F-J6D-jB0iHqMYLybIbZRgFMz2wZhP7rZuv89ZhKtJw3VP_J40/s400/Screen+Shot+2017-12-31+at+7.39.07+PM.png" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And this brings us to...</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: orange; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b>2018!</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #454545; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large; text-align: justify;">Now, here I am, a girl whose approach to New Year’s Resolutions has changed countless times in the last week as Jan 1st crept closer. I can’t decide if I want to set concrete goals (the list would be miles long), or if I want to go the New-Day’s-Resolutions route of 2015 instead, or if I should aim for a change in mindset.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHP2buJesmQ-wF1xJhBPKe7oKYDTL-zBSOUzlj4GjjqKwQUObnDTOaMGavqh3f-lMx9P2-AYb_n9ACqUWX0yoMtNYyhdarKI1IFO8kEtG6qgW38oLuvIqjvRr92QhDQfPFU6h0-4VjydE/s1600/IMG_7452.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHP2buJesmQ-wF1xJhBPKe7oKYDTL-zBSOUzlj4GjjqKwQUObnDTOaMGavqh3f-lMx9P2-AYb_n9ACqUWX0yoMtNYyhdarKI1IFO8kEtG6qgW38oLuvIqjvRr92QhDQfPFU6h0-4VjydE/s320/IMG_7452.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #454545;">I’m thinking the last option is the key to hacking this New Year’s Resolutions scam - </span><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><b>a change in mindset means I change my attitude towards all this goal-setting, so that I let myself fail and try again</b>.</span><span style="color: #454545;"> Which means there’s no such thing as failing because that's </span><i style="color: #454545;">all part of the plan.</i><span style="color: #454545;"> It means that whether or not I set concrete goals, I won't box myself into a world of unrealistic expectations; instead I'll be flexible and able to adjust when things don’t go as planned.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #454545;">I’m not gonna lie - </span><span style="color: #674ea7;"><b>yes</b> <b>I still 100% believe that 2018 is gonna be<i> my year </i>and there’s still a million and one things I want to improve</b></span><span style="color: #454545;"> (eat healthy! exercise! sleep! procrastinate less! skin care! keep my hair and nails done! be fearless! keep up my GPA! write more! be more present!…the list can go on and on). BUT the difference is that I'm not gonna pretend that from Jan 1st I'm gonna transform into a person that achieves all these things. I'm gonna take each day one at a time, remind myself of my priorities, and just </span><i style="color: #454545;">be. </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #454545; font-size: large;">Another part of this change in mindset is realizing that </span><b><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: large;">inspiration can happen at any time.</span></b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #454545;"> Like a couple weeks ago, after my last Creative Writing class and after hearing students' stories at a storytelling event, I suddenly realized that I wanted to focus more on myself, and not dedicate so much brain space to things that aren’t worth my time. Or like last Thursday, after going out with my best friend and talking about living our best lives in 2018. Or like last night, when I had a heart-to-heart with my mom that went something like this:</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #674ea7;">Me:</span></b><span style="color: #454545;"> But Mummy there are so many things I really want to change for 2018. I want to develop better habits: to eat well, sleep well, exercise...</span></span> </blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Mummy:</span></b><span style="color: #454545;"> Why wait until 2018? I think if you’re serious about it, you’d start before.</span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And I thought of my best friend working out on an arbitrary Thursday in the middle of the holidays after we ate Cinnabon and ice-cream and declared that we needed to change our lives. Because she felt inspired to action. And I thought of Mummy’s own discipline about going to the gym consistently every week for the past 2 months.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I realize how blessed I am to be surrounded by people who support and inspire me with their actions and conversations.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I haven’t decided how to approach all the things I want to achieve in 2018, but I have decided one thing: </span></div>
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<span style="color: #45818e; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Inspiration can come at any time. And a new year isn't the only thing that can inspire action.</b></span></blockquote>
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Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6551318344612845679.post-25470855096502415142017-12-11T17:08:00.000-08:002019-09-17T03:40:18.681-07:00Improv Wisdom<div class="p1">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Thoughts on how improv is changing my life.</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR_zz00tuwDATUR4fU_kZV-z-9UmBtPb8HCevFiPApqDdC4OwY8cmGNZcknOvNACDIIiw86lhmAsK12kOuLVsjTXs7MoVHNuAM0gVCKrk1MB5QxT83pkVuhEp54TsE3MOry0dgPfiZxUU/s1600/improv+wisdom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1042" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR_zz00tuwDATUR4fU_kZV-z-9UmBtPb8HCevFiPApqDdC4OwY8cmGNZcknOvNACDIIiw86lhmAsK12kOuLVsjTXs7MoVHNuAM0gVCKrk1MB5QxT83pkVuhEp54TsE3MOry0dgPfiZxUU/s320/improv+wisdom.jpg" width="208" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>October 2017. </i>There was a thing that i wanted to write about but didn’t get the chance.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Freakin’ <i>improv wisdom!</i> (which is also the name of the<a href="http://www.improvwisdom.com/index.html"> book by Patricia Ryan Madison</a>) I would highly recommend taking an improv class if you can. It’s not just for actors, or theatre-people or whatever, but it’s a class that any and everyone can benefit from. It’s really helped me open my eyes and <i>see</i> and realize how much of the world I’m missing because I’m so wrapped up in my own head.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Improv, as we’re learning it, builds off of the idea of “accepting all offers” - that is, saying “yes” to whatever ideas your partners offer. Not just saying “yes”, but building off of it and being fully on board whether it’s in alignment with what you wanted or not.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">In life, I see this translating as supporting people and having an open, positive, accepting attitude. We’ve been raised to “block” offers all the time. To refuse food someone offers just to be “polite”. To question big ideas and try to make them more “realistic”. To say “no” to dancing just because you’re “not in the mood”. This last scenario happened to me a couple days ago. A friend taking Social Dance asked if I wanted to learn some dance moves. Since I feel pretty self-conscious about dancing, my first response was “Nah I’m good, I’m not in the mood.” Then Improv wisdom hit me and I thought, <i>Do you really have a good reason for blocking this offer? </i>So I agreed, and guess what? It was fun, and I didn’t 100% suck at it as I thought I would, and well, I actually learned a thing or two about swing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>2 months later - December 2017. </i></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I’m only now returning to finish this post. And while some part of me is disappointed that I can't get it together and gather my thoughts in one go, maybe it’s good that some time has passed, because it makes me realize just how much the things I learnt from improv class have become ingrained in my daily life.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You’d think that by now, after a quarter of “Yes!”, that I would’ve been able to seamlessly adopt the “improv lifestyle” as I like to call it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Nope, I’m still out here blocking offers like it’s nobody’s business, and immediately putting my guard up at the slightest hint of discomfort - I think the difference is that I’m more aware of it. It’s no longer a subconscious thing, but something that I can consciously recognize, and respond to, and correct.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Just today, before I was even thinking about continuing this post, a friend of mine invited me to a Christmas concert that he’d be performing in on Friday. Why was it my first instinct to be hesitant instead of immediately saying yes? What’s not to say yes to? I have every reason to be excited about this: I’d be home and done with assignments; I love concerts and music; I’d be getting into the holiday spirit; it’s an opportunity to support my friend. And as it stands, I don’t have any concrete Friday plans. So why didn’t I just say yes?? Instead, I said that “most likely” I could come. And even while I was saying it, I knew I was saying it to keep control over my evening; I didn’t want to commit to something in case the day came and I somehow changed my mind. And this isn’t an isolated event. Countless times I’ve been afraid to dive into plans that I have nothing against, just because I’m worried about whether “future me” will be as excited. Luckily, tonight, improv wisdom kicked in and I had to snap back to reality and ask myself, “Why don’t you just <i>say yes</i>?” So that’s exactly what I did, and guess what? I feel good and it’s fine, and if that somehow changes on Friday, I’ll deal with it!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">A couple hours later (still tonight), I was walking back to my dorm, without headphones because I’d left them in my room. Listening to music is great, (one of my favorite things actually) but a lot of the time it’s an escape from the present. It’s an excuse to not pay attention to what’s happening around me, and sometimes, when I don’t have the crutch of having my playlist on demand, I find myself searching for a way to occupy my mind instead. So I’m walking, and thinking about so many different things: I’m analyzing my recent social interactions, I’m thinking about what I have to do tonight, about packing, and my flight, and the airport…I’m pretty much thinking about everything except the present moment. Then, aha, improv wisdom kicks in, and I tell myself to just focus on what’s around me. Notice new things (great advice from "Improv Wisdom", the book). And as I cross the intersection of Lomita and Santa Teresa, I notice a white fire hydrant that has undoubtedly been there the entire time, yet if someone had asked me whether there was a white fire hydrant at that street corner, I’d be stumped. Now I know the answer. And I probably won’t forget it. It seems that once you notice something by being completely present, you’re not likely to forget it. Earlier this quarter, in a similar effort to be more present, I noticed an abandoned black dustpan leaning against the archway that leads out of Lagunita courtyard. Now, there’s no way I could forget either that dustpan or that fire hydrant, now that I've made a conscious to notice them both.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And now that I think about it, this is something I want to take into the rest of the life: </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I want to be fully present in a way that makes things unforgettable.</b></span></span></blockquote>
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Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6551318344612845679.post-24065483938105382492017-12-09T22:24:00.000-08:002017-12-09T22:24:10.896-08:00What does it mean to challenge yourself?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">This quarter got me thinking a lot about this. After all, that’s the point of university, right? Learning. Growth. Pushing past your limits. Challenging yourself. But how do we know that we’re challenging ourselves, and not just pushing past our breaking point? Of course, there’s no simple “answer”, but I’ve tried to wrap my head around this concept of what it means to truly challenge yourself.</span></div>
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<b style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQdz3fISERS19n8sjweyXFS6isFEGalWxruWCnbH2y4LTqq3hw0o-H96J5aUwTwgYQmLOGPKQTUc184vmkKgGGiavsF76FNBANKmrnKxrJIe1N2N9_2-7RNtrGXzgAnpZTRFJplJvNz6Q/s1600/stress+factor.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; font-size: 12px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="374" data-original-width="472" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQdz3fISERS19n8sjweyXFS6isFEGalWxruWCnbH2y4LTqq3hw0o-H96J5aUwTwgYQmLOGPKQTUc184vmkKgGGiavsF76FNBANKmrnKxrJIe1N2N9_2-7RNtrGXzgAnpZTRFJplJvNz6Q/s200/stress+factor.png" width="200" /></a><b><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">1. The Stress Factor</span></b></b></div>
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<i><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Is stress an inherent part of challenging yourself? Does a lack of academic stress mean I’m not pushing myself?</span></i></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">This was the first quarter at Stanford that found me in 12 units, the minimum required course load, which translates into a pretty light course-load compared to a full 20-units of classes. So class-wise, I was cruising, but did that mean I wasn’t stressed out? Far from. I found myself stressed by emotional, mental, social and existential things, but rarely by academic things. I found myself wondering if a lack of academic stress meant that I wasn’t challenging myself enough. I wondered if sleep deprivation, late nights, and not having times to exercise or eat properly were signs that yes, I was challenging myself.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Because yes, I found myself keeping late nights, never exercising, snacking all day long, and really slacking on self-care. Was this my subconscious way of making things “hard’ for myself? Maybe I just wanted to be able to relate, because shared stress is so much of what brings students from everywhere together.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>If I didn’t have <i>any</i>thing to complain about, was I even a student? After all, misery likes company, right?</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">We’ve all gotten this question endless times: “How are you? How’s the quarter going?” My immediate answer is always some variation of: “Class-wise it’s good, I have a really light course-load this time, which I’m grateful for, but there are still other emotional and mental things that can be stressful.” Which was true, most of the time. And when people reacted with, “Oh I’m sorry to hear that! I hope it gets better” or offered some other words of support, I almost felt like a fraud because they were validating non-academic stress in a way that I didn’t expect, but fully appreciated.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<i style="font-size: 12px; font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">If each of us has such vastly different strengths and weaknesses, doesn’t it follow that we also have different ways of challenging ourselves?</span></i></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">At Stanford, there’s allegedly greater value placed on Tech than on Humanities. Though I find myself surrounded by people who definitely appreciate the Humanities as much as tech, this phenomenon extends beyond Stanford. Culturally, too, there is greater value placed on “technical” professions like engineering, law, and medicine, which are deemed practical and prestigious. Anyone from back home who hears that I’m a Human Biology (HumBio) major who likes to write asks me what I plan to do after college; they wonder how I plan to make a living. Being a Humanities major already makes me feel like I’m not challenging myself as much as a pre-med student is. I’m not taking science classes every quarter. I’m not struggling through weekly problem sets (p-sets), midterms and lab work. Instead, I am basking in the relative comfort of my writing assignments.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">What’s interesting is that on the other hand, there are people who abhor writing, and would much rather solve math or chemistry problems than write an essay. The assignments for all my classes this quarter have been writing-based: show reports, reading reflections and summaries, a community health plan, wellness plans, class reflections, personal essay, workshop letters…and when I describe this to some people, it seems like a lot to them. The thought of revising my 10-pag creative non-fiction essay is both exciting and challenging to me; I am in my element. I’d take this over p-sets any day. Similarly, I’m sure there are pre-med students out there who feel the challenge of their work-load, but enjoy it nonetheless!</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">All this is to say that things challenge and engage different people in different ways. Essays that pose a challenge to someone else are greeted with open arms by people like myself. But does embracing something mean it can’t be challenging? Because, let me tell you, it wasn’t smooth sailing all the way this quarter. I still worked my butt off on each and every assignment. I pushed myself, but it wasn’t stressful in the same way that previous Chem and math classes had been for me.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>So maybe challenging yourself isn’t even about being stressed out. Maybe it isn’t about pushing past our limits, and challenging ourselves at the expense of our health, mental or otherwise. Perhaps instead of straining against our weaknesses to be something we’re not, challenging ourselves means pushing in the direction of our strengths. Maybe that’s the key to embracing and enjoying challenges.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b></span></blockquote>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from college, it’s that even the mundane, regular days can be exhausting, mentally, socially and otherwise. I think having a light course-load gave me the brain-space to discover this: Existing is its own challenge!</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">There are good days, of course, then there are days when getting out of bed is the absolute hardest thing to do, and the thought of interacting with people makes you want to crawl back under the covers and stay there forever. Social interactions, acknowledging feelings, working through feelings, going to class, attending meetings, sending emails, eating a balanced meal, adjusting to schedule changes and failed plans…all these things drain your battery even before you add things like homework, and assignments, and the things we typically consider “difficult”.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">I’m thinking about a day last week that embodied this; it started with an 8:30am meeting with a professor, then a HumBio class, a writing tutor shift, a peer counseling shift, a meeting with my academic advisor, emails to send, a creative writing event, and finally, pan practice. Separately, none of these things are inherently challenging, but altogether they create a socially exhausting day. And you know what, at the end of it, I have to pat myself on the back and say “Congrats Astrid for making it through that day.” I may not have had an assignment due, a project to complete, or an essay to hand in, but I sure pushed myself in other ways, and that’s just as valid.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>So what’s the answer?</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Though I want definite answers, I think we all have to decide for ourselves how we challenge ourselves, and how much of a role stress plays in that challenge. Maybe, for some people, a little bit of stress is a part of what it means to challenge themselves. For me, I want to challenge myself in healthy, appropriate ways to reach my highest potential without compromising health or wellbeing. I want to challenge myself in a balanced way that</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"> aligns with my strengths, goals, and values.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"> </span></div>
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</style>Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6551318344612845679.post-68576246611979049812017-11-19T23:36:00.002-08:002023-02-23T20:52:30.755-08:00Life: A Series of Approximations<div class="p1">
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: large;"><b>Side-note: this blog post has been in my head for the last 2 months so it’s really a wonder it got out at all. Leggo.</b></span></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: large;">The more I live the more I realize that a great majority of life, especially when it comes to immeasurable or non-concrete things, is approximated. Like the following.</span></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: large;"><b>Perfectionism</b> - As a self-diagnosed perfectionist, I’m constantly trying to do things perfectly, or be 100% prepared for every single thing, or not make any mistakes. As if that’s even possible. With sky-high standards and a fear of mistakes, I find myself being unrealistically high-achieving, then falling short, then beating myself up about it, which makes zero sense. Because what is perfection anyway? Isn’t it just something you can aim for, but never achieve? Not only is it an impossible standard, it’s also subjective and abstract, because how do you measure perfection? It’s just constantly trying to do your best, and performing iteration upon iteration of a thing until the result is close to perfection, but there’s no benchmark to say that <i>hi, yes, you’ve achieved perfection, congratulations and here’s your medal</i>. No one says that. It’s all one big scam of an approximation. I keep feeling like I’m climbing up a mountain, whose pinnacle is perfection, and the higher I get, the further the fall, and the more scared I am to let go and fall. And it’s like an exponential curve where the closer you get to the “top”, the more effort it seems to take to keep moving up. I’m starting to think that the journey to “perfection”, or let's say "self-improvement", is less of an upward slope and more of a horizontal road. Because there’s no <i>end. </i>There shouldn’t be.</span></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: large;"><b>Understanding people</b> - I’m starting to realize just how hard it is to be in any kind of relationship: friendship, sibling-hood, family, romantic, classmate, work-related, or otherwise. Each person has their own entire life, of which you’re only a tiny portion. Yet here we are, trying to inhabit the same space, and understand each other, and it’s a wonder we even get anywhere considering the great many factors that threaten understanding: the differences in our background, preferences, past experience, mood, personality, traits, coping mechanisms, perceptions…that’s just a few.</span></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: large;">How many times have you assumed that because someone’s in a less-than-cheerful mood, it’s because they’re upset with you specifically? You start to run through reasons in your head for why they might be pissed at you, when in fact, it’s nothing to do with you, and it’s just a combination of things, like their crappy day, that’s making them upset. You can take a guess at why they might be upset, and while you might be correct, it’s all nothing but approximation because you may never truly know. </span></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: large;">Sometimes I think it's disheartening to realize that no one person can really, truly 100% <i>get </i>you. I used to think that's what a "best friend" or "soul mate" was supposed to be, but that's not realistic. I suppose this should come as a relief; firstly, it's nice to know that we're all so beautifully complicated that there are parts of us that are</span></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: large;"> uniquely us that no other person can truly <i>get</i>. And secondly, it means I can take the pressure off myself to try to 100% understand someone else, because it's another impossible standard. My level of understanding only approximates the truth of who they are, and <i>that's okay </i>and it's beautiful to realize there's always more to a person than meets the eye. There's always more to discover, and doesn't it make relationships that much more exciting to know that there's always something new to learn about a person?</span><br />
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: large;"><b>Social interactions</b> - Have you ever tried to figure out the meanings of social interactions? Don’t, I don’t recommend it. It's exhausting, and doesn't really get you anywhere. Because at the end of the day we <i>can’t</i> get inside each other’s heads; all we can come up with is our own interpretation of someone else’s actions based on our limited interactions with them. We can only approximate meaning when it comes to other people, so what’s the point trying to “figure it all out”? Ideally, we can ask each other about intentions if we’re confused, but that’s easier said than done. When there are personal things at stake, who wants to look vulnerable and ask questions?</span></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: large;"><b>Balancing life</b> - The million dollar question remains: How to balance school work with exercise and sleeping enough and being social and taking care of yourself and extracurriculars and a job and spirituality and eating healthy and everything else...? How to balance the vast combination of things that you value in your life? I have no idea. I’m 3 years into college and I still haven’t found that balance. I’ve found some type of balance that works for some quarters, but then things change on a whim and I have to re-calibrate everything. This quarter, I’ve managed to secure a light course-load, but then there’s a struggle of balancing alone time with getting things done, because I’ve become way too "in my head" and started having a hard time getting out (hence this blog post being bottled up for so long). I am not overwhelmed academically, yet I find myself rushing down assignments <i>the morning they’re due.</i> And wondering <i>why why why </i>do I do this to myself, and <i>how did I get here</i>? Five weeks into the quarter, I was finally able to complete and print the weekly assignment for my health class the night before instead of rushing it down the morning of. It took me halfway through the quarter to accomplish that simple task. It’s like I’m slowly figuring out what works, but there never really comes a point when everything is in perfect balance and I can say that I’ve “found” what works. It’s a constantly shifting equilibrium, and maybe, for a brief moment, I feel okay and balanced, but it doesn’t last, and something will always come along to push me in one direction or another. Again, I can only come close to the balance I hope to achieve - it’s all a game of approximation.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;"><b>Research</b> - like I noted in my <a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2017/09/10-weeks-of-research-10-lessons-learnt.html">Summer Research reflections</a>, the more you know, the more you don't know. The more you search, learn or discover, the more there is to search, learn and discover. Answering one question only leads to hundreds more. So when it comes to research, or any kind of scientific study, it makes sense that they say you can’t “prove” a </span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">hypothesis - you can only find evidence to support it. You can disprove it by finding evidence that goes against it, but as long as it hasn’t been disproven, there’s not much you can do to “prove” it’s true. This all just makes me realize that even science is just a series of approximations - that is, trying to come as close as possible to guessing at how things really work, because who knows what the true “answer” is.</span></span></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: large;">It’s what keeps me from writing sometimes. Because the minute I put pen to paper, or finger to keypad, the self-critic turns on and starts disapproving of whatever is coming out on the page/screen. I can only approximate the ideas in my head, and hope that my writing comes as close to my intended meaning as possible.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Luckily for me, my “Beginning Improv” class (10 out of 10 would recommend an improv class to EVERYONE) is teaching me a few things about accepting ideas and being okay with what's “average” or “obvious”, because sometimes those are the very things that capture and hold people’s interest. More on that later. The point is, writing and art are only approximations of what’s in our heads.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: black;">Rotten banana: <a href="https://www.wheat-free.org/assets/images/ripe-bananas-food-fact.jpg">https://www.wheat-free.org/assets/images/ripe-bananas-food-fact.jpg</a>, Ripe banana: </span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: black;"><a href="https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&ved=0ahUKEwivscWdyMzXAhUBFWMKHUWxDf4QjBwIBA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fpng.pngtree.com%2Felement_pic%2F16%2F12%2F14%2F1f6bc55b95748ab90c6157f125ca70ce.jpg&psig=AOvVaw1HMWjllEf7Oq1GRxZqfNPl&ust=1511247078734363">https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&ved=0ahUKEwivscWdyMzXAhUBFWMKHUWxDf4QjBwIBA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fpng.pngtree.com%2Felement_pic%2F16%2F12%2F14%2F1f6bc55b95748ab90c6157f125ca70ce.jpg&psig=AOvVaw1HMWjllEf7Oq1GRxZqfNPl&ust=1511247078734363</a>, loose leaf paper:<a href="https://www.blogger.com/goog_1618709081"> </a></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://image.freepik.com/free-vector/loose-leaf-paper_17-325183319.jpg">https://image.freepik.com/free-vector/loose-leaf-paper_17-325183319.jpg</a></span></div>
Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6551318344612845679.post-23517317912736580642017-09-07T23:19:00.001-07:002017-11-28T02:01:40.273-08:0010 Weeks of Research, 10 Lessons Learnt<div class="p1">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Research. Such a loaded word, and quite frankly, a word that would have scared me a year ago. So this summer, when I finally had my first "research" experience, the fulfillment wasn’t so much about the theory of the research itself, but all the lessons that came with switching from student-mode to work-mode. Here are some notes that I took over 10 weeks.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #674ea7;">1. Firstly, I had to get over my own version of imposter syndrome, and remind myself that I deserved to be where I was.</span></b> After being accepted to do <a href="https://humanbiology.stanford.edu/research/research-exploration-program">HBREX (the Human Biology Research Exploration program)</a>, I felt like I’d suddenly attained something that had felt unattainable only one year before. And I felt like I couldn’t possibly be qualified for this. </span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I remember how overwhelmed I felt at the end of my freshman year, just absolutely and mentally exhausted and drained from the toll that Spring quarter had taken on me. I was ready to get away from Stanford, and spent my entire summer back home in Trinidad with family, while friends did “cool” things like research internships on campus or volunteered around the globe. I wondered if I would ever have knowledge to reach that level. I remembered the first time I saw a friend’s research poster rolled in a tube for safekeeping, thinking “it doesn’t get more legit than <i>that”. </i>How in heck<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>were people so knowledgeable about something that they were able to contribute to research that professors have been conducting for <i>years? </i>Though I was excited about HBREX, I felt like I was one year behind my peers, because it felt like a lot of people had already dappled in research during their freshman summer, and were moving on to bigger, better, or different things. I felt uncertain, unfit, and like a complete fraud once that research stipend hit my bank account. But somehow, from the first week of my summer "on the job", I realized that you don’t come in knowing everything. You come in with energy and interest and readiness to learn more, and over time you dive deeper and deeper into your topic and learn enough to start formulating hypotheses and beginning the problem-solving process. Which brings me to my next point:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #674ea7;">2. Focusing on one thing for 10 weeks is a far cry from juggling 3-4 classes for 10 weeks, 3 times a year.</span></b> That is, it's a more rewarding experience for so many reasons: a) You don’t have hard deadlines for learning materials; there are no midterms or PSETS or essays due - instead, you learn at your own pace, and simply having that pressure gone makes it so much easier to focus! b) Your learning isn’t dictated by a syllabus. For me, google scholar became my guide, and one article would lead to another and another, and sometimes it took days for me to find what I was looking for, but then it was like a breakthrough that was completely worth it, and luckily I could afford to spend days on a topic because I didn’t have to worry about usual class deadlines! c) You don't have homework when you get home. I mean, I know a lot of people who took their work home with them, but save for a couple odd days, I was <i>not </i>one of those people. I appreciated the segregation between my "work life" and the rest of my life. And so did my research team, as evidenced by an email one Friday afternoon from my supervisor, who said something to this effect: "Everyone stop working! It's 5:19pm on a Friday, go home - we will resume this conversation next week". If that wasn't confirmation that work belonged at work and no where else, I don't know what was. And I was immensely grateful for that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #674ea7;">3. The more you know, the more you realize you don’t know. </span></b>After completing the Human Biology core and interning with a nutrition studies group, this mantra rings loud and clear in my head: “Correlation does <i>not</i> imply causation”. There’s no way to know for sure whether changes in hormones <i>cause</i> appetite changes or if sleep duration really changes hormone levels, just because a bunch of studies have shown repeated associations between them. But the deeper and deeper you go, the more you realize that we really don’t know what exactly causes anything else to happen in the human body. We’ve surely learned a whole lot, and now understand our body systems down to the cellular level, but some things remain fuzzy and are simply theories that evidence supports, until proven wrong. It was fascinating to me to come face to face with this theory about theories: that theories are just that, theories (what a mouthful, I know). That they are not a clear indication of the way things are, but simply ideas put forth that propose the way things work, given the current evidence. But no matter how much evidence supports the theory, we will never know whether it is <i>true</i> or not. Which is mind boggling when you think about all the things we’ve learnt in our lives - no wonder science is ever growing and ever-changing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #674ea7;">4. Over these 10 weeks, I began to pinpoint ways that I've grown.</span></b> There is a confidence in my abilities that was not there before. Before, any doubt about whether I was “qualified” enough for a task has been replaced with a confidence that I <i>can</i> and <i>will</i> complete this task to the best of my ability, and that’s all I can ask of myself. And if I felt like I didn’t have the tools to do something to the best of my ability, I can google it, or ask a question, and those questions will not go in vain. Hence point #5:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #674ea7;">5. Ask questions!</span></b> While there are some questions that can be answered with some googling, sometimes it’s nice to have someone explain it to you, so don’t be afraid to ask. Plus, sometimes the question that you hold back because you're afraid to ask is the very question that <i>needs </i>to be asked. There were countless times this summer when something didn’t sit right with my brain, and I asked a question for clarification, and it turns out that that <i>thing </i>that didn’t sit right was actually an error, or a discrepancy, and the person that I was working with was grateful to me for pointing it out. So, hey, ask away.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #674ea7;">6. All jobs - even the most glamorous-seeming careers - have a nitty gritty.</span></b> Yeah, “research” sounds cool, doesn't it? What comes to mind when you hear “research”? Maybe it’s people with goggles, lab coats, syringes, gloves, or results tables, or graphs, or cool diagrams and revolutionary findings (at least, that's what comes to my mind). But hey, to get those revolutionary, or more often not-so-revolutionary findings, there’s a lot of work that goes on behind the scenes. There’s the grant writing (applying for money to fund one’s study), developing a study method, doing research about the research you intend to conduct to see what’s been done before, creating questionnaires/materials for participants, proofreading, editing, updating for clarity/modern days’ sake, recruiting participants, budgeting,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>scheduling visit times or data collection points, figuring out the best way to collect data, cleaning up data, analyzing data, collaborating on a paper, coding the results, creating data tables/graphs/charts, proofreading the paper, submitting papers, making changes/revisions as needed…and the list goes on. The point is that a lot of long hours are spent doing the things that no one talks about - the not-so-fun things like laboring with paper bags, gloves and ice packs to assemble stool-collection kits for an upcoming study (yes, my fellow intern and I did this, and while it wasn’t the most terrible menial work you can think of - there was something satisfying about the routine-ness of it all - we still spent many hours on it that could have been spent doing something more intellectually rewarding).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #674ea7;">7. Work life takes up time.</span></b> I’ve had this conversation many times with friends doing research/internships/working on campus this summer. I wondered: <i>how </i>do adults do it? How do parents, single parents, people working 2 jobs, people with a commute…how do they manage themselves and/or their families? I’m working full-time (not really over time as my supervisor is big on keeping this well-oiled machine well-oiled, i.e. no work on the weekends! leave the work at the office!), and I work literally 15mins away from where I lived on campus, and found that I struggled to schedule other aspects of my life. As a student, I'm allowed some control over my schedule. As an employee, I couldn't just decide to take a half-day to schedule meetings, buy groceries, send emails, visit the bank, or make necessary calls. So I found myself spending my lunch hour doing these things, or leaving work early and making up the time on another day. Plus, get this, I got back from work ~5:30, then if it’s an exercise day, by the time I work out, eat dinner and shower, it’s almost 9pm, and if my aim is to go to sleep by midnight, that literally leaves a couple hours for “free time” or doing all those other things you couldn’t do before. So if I had to cook for myself, is this what I’d spend my time doing? Then when would I read/watch movies/relax/browse Facebook? When would I get “me time” during the day? Would that be reserved for weekends? And can you imagine having a family on top of that? <i>How </i>do parents do it - return from work and take care of children and wake up early the next day to begin the process again until the weekend comes to offer some relief? And if you're a stay-at-home parent, then the work never ends, because there is no respite from your full-time job. I honestly have a newfound respect for all working people and parents and especially stay-at-home moms and dads.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #674ea7;">8. <a href="https://www.facebook.com/theartidote/">Mental health over every damn thing?</a></span></b> I would like to declare this with no doubt whatsoever, but I must leave the question mark because while there’s growing awareness of mental health and the issues surrounding it, the stigma still hovers and is perpetuated. And I find myself at the center of this, as both a victim and a perpetuator of the stigma. Because there were 2 days this summer when I really needed the day off. The first day was about 4 weeks in, when I woke up feeling like absolute crap. In case anyone hadn’t noticed by now, mental and emotional exhaustion takes a noticeable toll, and you need to regroup in order to function effectively. So that day, I told my supervisor that I wasn’t feeling well, via a vague text implying that I was physically sick. I couldn’t yet bring myself to admit that it was actually mental/emotional state of unwellness that made me unable to work that day. But the next day at work, our of some desire to be upfront, I mentioned that it wasn’t physical sickness, but an emotionally rough time. And while my supervisor was empathetic and understanding, I couldn’t help but wonder afterwards: did I <i>really</i> need that day off or was I spoiling or somehow coddling myself? I’m lucky I worked in an environment where it was okay to “take the day off” or “work from campus”, but If I didn’t have the option to stay home, would I have survived the day? Probably yes. You do what you gotta do, right? So I can’t help but wonder where the line is drawn between “self care” and “coddling”. It’s hard to admit that sometimes I need to take it easy on myself, because that still feels like some kind of weakness on my part, no matter how hard I try to convince myself that it isn’t. I’m slowly starting to learn that taking care of yourself isn’t a weakness. It’s a necessity.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #674ea7;">9. There’s not always a direct clear-cut career path</span></b> (and thank the Lord for that because this girl doesn’t know what she sees herself doing after university). I got the opportunity to talk to some members of the research group with whom I worked, and let me tell you, they have some crazy round-a-bout stories about how they ended up where they are now. I’ve met a lady who is a trained professional chef then decided to go to med school, and now works as a practicing MD, a part-time teacher, and a researcher. I’ve met people who worked in various industries, then waitressed, then taught a class, before diving into the research life. I met someone who went to Thailand to study botany and medicinal plants and now finds herself teaching and doing research part-time. And it was so refreshing to hear these stories and know that I don’t have to have one set career path that I intend to follow for the rest of my life. It’s okay to take opportunities as they come, and though I value routine and security, I actually can’t wait to see what the as-yet-unclear future holds, and what kinds of opportunities end up coming my way. It’s comforting to know that I don’t have to go into one field and stick with it forever, that I have the flexibility to change my mind and change my career, and that just because I don’t end up liking something, doesn’t mean I can’t learn from the experience. It is freeing to know that I’m not bound to one thing, and that the world is mine to seize. (It does not escape me that this is very much attached to my privilege, as someone who does not feel the financial burden of supporting anyone but myself in the future).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #674ea7;">10. I learned to appreciate my university life.</span></b> While I enjoyed the predictability that came with going to the same office everyday for 10 weeks and working on a single project (or a group of projects around a single theme), I couldn’t help but miss the variability and unpredictability of school life. No two days are the same, that’s for sure. You’ll always have different classes, meetings, encounters, emotional states…while it’s a roller coaster, it’s also a learning curve, and one that I’m starting to embrace. Besides, it’s nice to know that if I decide I need a day off, I can - for the most part - take a day off. And if I need to go to the bank, I can pop across on the day my classes end at 2pm. And there’s constant movement and stimulation happening, even if it does get exhausting. But you can bet that during the school year, this constant stimulation is the exact thing that I vent about to anyone who would listen. What can I say - the grass is always greener.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'll end by saying that I know people have vastly different experiences with what we call “research”. At Stanford, which prides itself on being a “research university”, there are countless opportunities for undergrads to become involved in research, whether it be lab work, traveling to new countries, or interning with a research group. Some people have great experiences with supportive mentors, others don’t. Luckily, I had a positive experience. But I'd love to hear perspectives from anyone who's had a research experience anywhere in the world. There's so much we can learn from each other!</span></div>
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Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6551318344612845679.post-36626367257339375912017-08-01T08:29:00.004-07:002017-11-28T02:01:29.044-08:00My Black Wedding Dress (A Celebration of Blackness)<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>Convention, Perception, and the Symbolism of the Color Black</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm listening to Chronixx's album <i><a href="https://open.spotify.com/album/3mKndQtrErEucSNNOLI6J8">Chronology</a> </i>which my Jamaican friend recommended to me. Chronixx is a Jamaican reggae artist for those who don't know, and I didn't know much about his music before. But this new reggae album is uplifting with its social commentary and personal narrative. <a href="https://open.spotify.com/album/3mKndQtrErEucSNNOLI6J8">Take a listen.</a> You're probably wondering what this has to do with a wedding dress - don't worry, I'm getting to that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The first song that popped up when I pulled up <i>Chronology </i>on Spotify was <i><a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/0RbpIB9UoG6cVEWNPb0SVY">Black is Beautiful</a>.</i> Coincidence? I think not. He sings, <i>"they never told us that black is beautiful"</i>. I'm taking "they" to be Western mainstream culture, but it could just as easily apply to someone or something else.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maleficent rocking her black ensemble. Great<br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #454545;">So aside from the very obvious denouncement of dark skin in the dark days of slavery, it's no secret that both then and now, in Western pop culture (literature, art, the works), the color black has been associated with being evil/darkness and other countless negative things. You don't even need to google it. Just think of popular sayings like <i>blackmail</i>, <i>blacklist</i>, <i>black sheep</i>, and the fact that Maleficent and half of those evil witches in Disney movies wear black capes. Then there's this unforgettable image of my soul becoming "black" when I sin, which has stayed with me from childhood. Religious or not, it's a poignant image. Meanwhile, white is associated with purity and goodness and cleanliness. A lot of other religious references come to mind here, like baptism, and weddings, confirmation, doves...but why?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Could the "pure" connotation be because of white's supposed lack of hue? According to Wikipedia (I don’t have time for deeper research, besides Wikipedia has become the trusted Encyclopedia of our generation):</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“White is the color the human visual system senses when the incoming light to the eye stimulates all three types of color sensitive cone cells in the eye in nearly equal amounts”.</span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Of Black, they say:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">"In the visible spectrum, black is the absorption of all colors...[or] a <i>combination </i>of several pigments that collectively absorb all colors...This provides two superficially opposite but actually complementary descriptions of black. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Black is the absorption of all colors of light, or an exhaustive combination of multiple colors of pigment."</span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #454545;">Hold up. So black is some kind of paradox color that both combines and absorbs all colors? Interesting. So if neither white nor black is necessarily the absence of color (physics peeps, help me out if I'm interpreting this wrong here), then why is white deemed the clean-slate, all-pure color?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #454545;">Is it a perception thing, or is it deeper than that? I have a few hunches. (I am aware that I might be overthinking this. This is what I do best).</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #454545;">Maybe white = purity because of its canvas-like nature; it's a fresh start upon which you can create anew, painting colors that show up on its perceptually colorless surface. If you tried to do the same on a black canvas, well, the color wouldn’t show up as much. Maybe that has some sort of symbolism of its own though, because white fabrics/surfaces show dirt and grime really easily and can be marked and blemished, while black tends to hide such marks. You can take that two ways - either black represents something so pure it is not meant to be marked, or it CAN be marked but the marks are hidden, like secrets, which makes it somehow sneaky and shady.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Perhaps it is because darkness <i>appears</i> black, and darkness is associated with the unknown, and with sinister and evil things hiding in the shadows. Meanwhile bright light appears white, and light is associated with truth and candor and revealing things for what they are (think of all the popular adages/age-old tropes: the truth can’t stay hidden forever, what happens in the darkness will eventually come to the light, etc…). In other words: light = no secrets = truth, but just because all the facts are laid out on the table for everyone to see, does that mean it’s a reflection of the truth? What is objective truth anyway, and who says we need light to see it? Who’s to say that darkness doesn’t reveal truth in its own way - by blocking the distractions and things pretending to be truth, and leaving our senses free to sense the real truth, whatever that may be? (I’m thinking in a figurative sense here, but if <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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you’re looking for a more sensual example, think of when you finally switch off your bedroom light to sleep at night. When you’re lying in bed, eyes closed, no longer dependent on your eyes to take in light and give you vision and process everything around you as you go about your day, you’re finally free with your thoughts. Why do people say to close your eyes when you meditate, or when you pray? You’re excluding light, you’re inviting darkness of vision, and you’re freeing yourself of objectivity to come to terms with your personal perceptions and hidden truths.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I think then, that yes, black is inevitably associated with darkness because to our simple human eyes darkness appears black, but there’s nothing to say that darkness doesn’t come with a purity of its own.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #454545;">This is what got me thinking about my wedding dress. On the occasion that I've thought about my own wedding, I never questioned the fact that I’d wear a white wedding dress - as is tradition, and I value tradition, I really do. But as I think more and more about it, I cannot <i>actually</i> see myself in a white dress, because I almost never wear white as it is, and why should I have to?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Chronixx’s <i>Black is beautiful </i>started this train of thought, because I thought heck yea black is beautiful, and I wondered, what if I wore a black wedding dress, just to make a statement? But is making statement worth the beauty of a <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb_Y2-MpkHLbZQRQUv8Tfe9SZjYxnZ7JLn7gT1XgCiGDdSSymsNdf7TqRGvcaSAT1nbqzcgZcjj3Tz3l4xpJMyOCQ26BoDfyRZNuzGdTSO8tYW83I29WFBpbPMDTowMSf5vFjVg0FvPKg/s1600/IMG_C6B5D241A1E0-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="398" data-original-width="398" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb_Y2-MpkHLbZQRQUv8Tfe9SZjYxnZ7JLn7gT1XgCiGDdSSymsNdf7TqRGvcaSAT1nbqzcgZcjj3Tz3l4xpJMyOCQ26BoDfyRZNuzGdTSO8tYW83I29WFBpbPMDTowMSf5vFjVg0FvPKg/s320/IMG_C6B5D241A1E0-1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even my bitmoji is rocking those dark winter<br />
tones LOL</td></tr>
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traditional white wedding gown? For me, yes! Because I hate wearing white anyway. Even my confirmation outfit was off-white, and I’m happy that it was, because I’m just not a fan of wearing clear white (besides, my Winter skin tone demands deeper, darker shades, and white is not very high up on that list).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #454545;">I also feel most confident in a dark ensemble. I’m like my dad in that way - he loves to travel, and he always travels with a blue shirt and (probably also blue) jeans. When it comes to clothing, blue is my spirit color. Bright colors were never my thing. Maybe I'm not trying to make a statement. Maybe I hide behind darker shades of clothing. Maybe it's more to do with confidence than aesthetics. Either way, white certainly has never been my color, and I seldom choose white clothing over another color.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8OXyYEL04NNnJ6hkoutoTSm4CuN6Rz7g_41nEIEGC7QoLliQi-hBfshn0bXaROcgKubGlBTQ45ACiqxPNgWRdqb7gikEHOOGNlIjSnm2rKeYb8mXEykdhXPa7Kc_jVWlnY88SQOWAyDo/s1600/458536_106624302814445_2033721530_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8OXyYEL04NNnJ6hkoutoTSm4CuN6Rz7g_41nEIEGC7QoLliQi-hBfshn0bXaROcgKubGlBTQ45ACiqxPNgWRdqb7gikEHOOGNlIjSnm2rKeYb8mXEykdhXPa7Kc_jVWlnY88SQOWAyDo/s320/458536_106624302814445_2033721530_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Throwback to graduation, circa 2012 (aka possibly<br />
the closest shade to white that I'll be comfortable<br />
wearing when it comes to long gowns)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #454545;">So given my discomfort wearing white clothes, why shouldn’t I wear a black wedding dress? Or some shade of blue for that matter (that would be gorgeous!)? Because convention says not to? Because tradition renders it unbecoming? Five minutes of <a href="https://priceonomics.com/why-do-brides-wear-white/">googling</a> taught me that although white is thought to signal purity and whatnot, it wasn't always like that, and it was Queen Victoria in the 19th century who popularized the white wedding gown by wearing white to her wedding. Women usually just wore their best dress!</span></span><span style="color: #454545;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> It's about making you feel most beautiful on your special day, right? That </span>
<span style="font-size: medium;">makes sense, and I'm sure not everyone feels like their best self in a white gown. Yet, the white-gown trend stuck, and white for weddings <i>became</i></span></span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"> </i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;">associated with purity</span></span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">.</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"> Old habits die hard, and we'll always find a way to attach meaning or symbolism to arbitrary things. So the white gowns remain trendy, and convention stays winning.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/cf/a6/c1/cfa6c1cc15d56f7d172a7fa342c1164f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/cf/a6/c1/cfa6c1cc15d56f7d172a7fa342c1164f.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This! Is it just me, or is this stunning? <span style="color: #666666; font-size: xx-small;"><i>(Source: Pinterest)</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #454545;">But there comes a point when convention is broken and tradition evolves. It's not just about breaking the convention of wearing white, but resisting the negativity associated with black, too. And while it’ll take much more than little old me wearing a non-white wedding dress to break the negative connotations associated with the color black, there’s no reason for me to personally uphold that convention in my life. Because yes, it’s small things like this that affect your subconscious, and these are the connotations that we internalize and start to believe. I will admit that there are times that I’ve looked at a white person’s skin compared to mine and felt somehow…dirty. It pains me to type that. Maybe it was</span><span style="color: #454545;"> a mere fleeting thought that has nothing to do with how the color black and black skin is perceived in Western culture (I can’t speak for other cultures), or it might have everything to do with it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Either way, it’s exhilarating to realize that I have the power within me to change how I perceive my world. It’s empowering. <i>I</i> am empowered. And I am Black. And Black is beautiful.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPgHHFCua5fhXi7e5gtEw1AeBddXPof68CZ1sjWUN7Z1WX3ZIx2EL1IxYAbwT3Pb5197w1G3wY6Z0wDM0s9txdplx_vTXmD1s29T_onrbHRM_1l2oEhmR-w-Ei9sg9AXuOSoJf7XJShMY/s1600/IMG_1861.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPgHHFCua5fhXi7e5gtEw1AeBddXPof68CZ1sjWUN7Z1WX3ZIx2EL1IxYAbwT3Pb5197w1G3wY6Z0wDM0s9txdplx_vTXmD1s29T_onrbHRM_1l2oEhmR-w-Ei9sg9AXuOSoJf7XJShMY/s400/IMG_1861.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watch dat melanin POP! #blackisbeautiful</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><i>[whispering ensues] Upon further thought...Would I really have the guts to wear a black wedding dress 7-10 years from now? Unclear. But I could see myself rocking a white and gold, or blue, or cream one. Only time will tell. I'm curious to see whether this is simply me going through an early-twenties, contrarian, lets-oppose-the-mainstream phase, or if it's something I'll still be considering in the future. And if I go through with it, is it something I'll regret years later as I wipe the dust off my wedding photos? Eh, probably not. We'll see. Ten or so years from now I'll add another post-script with my wedding photo attached and we'll have some proof. Stay tuned.</i></span></div>
Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6551318344612845679.post-29011285693066136222017-07-14T18:09:00.001-07:002017-11-28T02:01:18.181-08:00A Note on Nobility<div style="color: #454545; line-height: normal;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Am I trying to be a hero? Is that a bad thing?</span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm writing this because the other day I met someone at a house gathering and we did the usual chit-chat/small talk, “where are you from?”, and “what are you studying” and eventually, “what do you want to do after? Do you plan on returning home?”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">My answer has morphed from, “Yea, for sure!" to "Yea, I definitely want to go back home! I can’t imagine myself settling down or raising a family anywhere else. But I wouldn’t mind working or getting experience in the US first - there are so many opportunities here.”</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw9Onr7sEa1aF1EFZrKx6ZWRwuJx-Udrxyo4tLxhQZr-qrRZbTMQq-3RbDz8rXvJhMEozZDbNWShOpfy-nOOoY536N1pwadQ3vtYfufEAzqfAp8QrwoRXDk5fokD-Gw1vUCjEpyYlQONc/s1600/04EC39CA-6A65-4426-8054-4C89FCE50927.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw9Onr7sEa1aF1EFZrKx6ZWRwuJx-Udrxyo4tLxhQZr-qrRZbTMQq-3RbDz8rXvJhMEozZDbNWShOpfy-nOOoY536N1pwadQ3vtYfufEAzqfAp8QrwoRXDk5fokD-Gw1vUCjEpyYlQONc/s320/04EC39CA-6A65-4426-8054-4C89FCE50927.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Opportunities", exhibit A: CSA touring Facebook (PC<br />
Kelly from Facebook)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The more I’ve had to answer this question, the more complicated the answer seems to get. When I was way younger, I wanted to live abroad. I couldn’t see why I would want to live in Trinidad when I got older with its crime, and corruption, and slow internet. Then I began to appreciate my culture and my people much more, and the sense of belonging that comes with it. But then I started school at Stanford and began to appreciate the freedom, opportunities and convenience of California - the non-humid weather (sweating all the time gets old <i>fast</i>, let me tell you), the safety and security on campus (last night I walked back to my dorm after 11pm and felt completely safe), and the <i>convenience</i>. But what's so convenient about it though?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Someone asked me that the other day, and I really had to pause to think about it. I always associate the US and being at Stanford with ease of living and convenience, but its hard to pinpoint concrete things because I think I take a lot of it for granted. It’s easy to identify what I miss about home while I’m here, then when I return home, it’s easy to pinpoint all the ways the US is more convenient - maybe it’s the way I have the freedom to bike anywhere I want to, or stay out late at night, or get things with 2-day shipping through Amazon Prime.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #454545;">The point is that each place has its pros and cons, and I’m slowly starting to realize that somewhere else can feel a lot like home - home isn't always defined by geography, but <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkCBWmYHVS6c0GpNSWxQoyJ-vQVJa03ZiByLXI57Lh3AQy_PGG-TpZ1aHLa0DgCkfl8PBI_MZrWI1cJPoEscz4Q-52wuJe7FOmTGXSfq403refCWnbUwKDTyA_jB-1rB_lvREyjV4f3Yg/s1600/3283E8AE-8F8D-4FED-B520-5AD72EF6C2C8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkCBWmYHVS6c0GpNSWxQoyJ-vQVJa03ZiByLXI57Lh3AQy_PGG-TpZ1aHLa0DgCkfl8PBI_MZrWI1cJPoEscz4Q-52wuJe7FOmTGXSfq403refCWnbUwKDTyA_jB-1rB_lvREyjV4f3Yg/s320/3283E8AE-8F8D-4FED-B520-5AD72EF6C2C8.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Views from back home :)</td></tr>
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sometimes by the people who are around you. Stanford has become a home because there are people that I can be myself with around here. So what if I found a significant other in the US? Would I really be that averse to settling down here?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">There is always a part of me tugging though, tugging me in the direction of Trinidad and reminding me of the sense of duty I feel towards Trinidad. It’s more than duty though; I really love my country, and I want it to be the place we all envision it to be, that is, a paradise. But the older I get, the more problems I see. I used to think that crime and corruption were our biggest problems - which they probably are - but there’s also the education system, attitudes towards mental health, healthcare in general, lack of tolerance, sexual harassment towards women, poor diet and nutrition, poor infrastructure and facilities, lack of advancement in tech…and the list could probably go on. And now I worry that I’m slowly and subconsciously becoming jaded because I want to help “fix” T&T but I wonder if that’s possible, and how, and where would I even start? What’s the best way for me to use my strengths to support my country? I really have no idea.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #454545;">So back to this house gathering that I was at. The person I was talking to probed further, wondering how my other Caribbean friends at Stanford felt: did they want to go back home, too? To my knowledge, some do, and some don’t. I feel like there’s a mix </span></span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">(If you're also studying abroad and happen to be reading this, hit me up, I'm really curious about the answer to this question). The house gathering homie also </span><span style="color: #454545; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">acknowledged the other side of the argument, saying that while it’s “noble” to want to return home, there’s nothing wrong with finding a home somewhere else. What if you find a significant other who doesn’t want to leave the Bay Area? Is it that bad to stay here?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">This was almost a week ago, and the word “noble” has stayed with me. Am I trying to be noble, to be a hero of some sort? And if so, what are my motivations? Yes, I love my country but the more I’m away, the more I could see myself being somewhere else. But the more I’m away, the more I appreciate home, too. And I <i>do </i>worry about that significant other thing. Family is important to me, and I would like one of my own in the future. So unless he’s from Trinidad too, there’s going to have to be some kind of compromise. What am I willing to compromise for the sake of family, old and new? It’s a lot to think about.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsaJjIY9wG8Qcb1ZA4Xjp1PoLAmmuYo2AzwNM-rapfZ_WV6PfxnzE3w0g2N9PNaBbCDeWbL8CxQ3azbX7rQgxYYygoPeTjXpd4ARwxd8YrxW0Fnfyrfd6J9KjKd2eeTurFuVGjhxRJ-s4/s1600/F58C6F6B-DCB8-4CFB-BC56-E697F04408C9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsaJjIY9wG8Qcb1ZA4Xjp1PoLAmmuYo2AzwNM-rapfZ_WV6PfxnzE3w0g2N9PNaBbCDeWbL8CxQ3azbX7rQgxYYygoPeTjXpd4ARwxd8YrxW0Fnfyrfd6J9KjKd2eeTurFuVGjhxRJ-s4/s320/F58C6F6B-DCB8-4CFB-BC56-E697F04408C9.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Family! (aka Casimire crew)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then a friend told me about his other friend who’s also international, but he’s dating an American from the Bay Area who loves California and doesn’t want to leave. But he had his heart set on also returning home to be a doctor there. What will he do? I wonder how people resolve these sorts of things - who sacrifices what? Is it worth giving up a healthy relationship for “noble” intentions? Or is it worth it to give up your dreams of saving your country because you’ve found the love of your life?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I guess there isn’t a right answer, and there are so many dimensions and directions that the issue can take. I’m curious to see where I end up in the future.</span></div>
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Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6551318344612845679.post-14899611006061631262017-06-14T01:27:00.001-07:002017-11-28T02:01:06.548-08:00To the End of Sophomore Year<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
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(Aka The Great Settling of Sophomore Year)</span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>I wish I’d written myself a letter at the beginning of this year so I could compare how I felt then to how I feel now. I didn’t - but I did journal a lot at that time. And I remember journalling during Summer ’16 about how excited I was about sophomore year and obsessively listing all the reasons that sophomore year was going to b<span style="color: black;">e the bomb.com.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Long story short, it wasn’t. And if I could write a letter to my past self, there are a couple things I’d like to say. Leggo.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">picture from the Activities Fair takes you all</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You’re really excited about sophomore year and that’s great. That’s one of the things I like about you - your positive outlook on things. So sophomore year wasn’t great in all the ways you thought it’d be. In fact, almost everything on your “Reasons Sophomore Year is gonna be Amazing” list has somehow gone wrong or backfired or been not quite what you expected.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It’s okay though. You will learn so much, and grow so much, and sort of feel like a different person at different points in the year, yet somehow it all comes full circle and by the end of the year you’ll feel closer to being who you want to be, or recovering the person you used to be. Maybe it’s a bit of both?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Let’s start at the beginning, though. Lemme tell you straight up that sophomore slump is real, and it’s different things to different people. I’m not sure whether you thought it might affect you or not, but it <i>definitely </i>affected you, and when you hear about people who are absolutely loving their sophomore year you’ll wonder where you went wrong.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You didn’t go wrong, and you weren’t wrong for having high expectations, either. Life just…isn’t predictable. And each quarter is going to feel like a roller coaster in its own way and you’re going to have some highlights and low-lows. But you’ll weather them, I promise!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Fall Quarter is the hot-mess quarter. Looking back, you wonder if it was your worst quarter at Stanford - not grade-wise but management wise. You did some rough all-nighters that were not just unhealthy, but completely unnecessary. You’d be a perfectionist and tell yourself that you had to finish x assignment or complete y task <i>that night, </i>and that the only way to do it is to stay up all night. False. There is another way (hint: it involves sleeping. More on that later). You’ll try to stay up, feel energized at first, feel the 3am slump of despair, self-pity and self-loathing, wondering why on earth you do this to yourself and what kind of crappy person you are to be struggling through x assignment or y task at this God forsaken hour of the morning. You will cry. You will feel so alone. You’ll fall asleep on the couch for a few hours after venting in your journal. You’ll wake up with just enough time to finish x assignment/y task and you’ll go through your day like nothing is amiss.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But, those dreadful nights bore some fruit. It was after a night like that that <a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2016/10/the-great-unsettling-of-sophomore-year.html">you wrote about the sophomore slump in a self-addressed venting session</a> on your laptop where you typed and typed and typed about everything you’d been feeling up to that point. And something made you click “Post” to your blog then “Share” on Facebook. And waves of support would come flooding in and you’d realize just how many other people related to almost exactly what you were feeling.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You will feel the liberation of being so honest and the vulnerability that comes with sharing so many of your deepest thoughts with the Internet. It will make you nervous. You will be afraid of judgment. But you will also feel some increment of a step closer to achieving your lifelong dream of reaching people through your writing. It will feel like this is what you’re meant to do. People will tell you months after that they read your blog, and those small ounces of support will mean the world. They will remind you to keep writing even when you feel like you have nothing to say (as you will).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Winter Quarter is the quarter you finally discover the wonder, the magic, the healing power of SLEEP! Yes, this deserves all caps and an exclamation point because you have been endlessly steep-deprived since about Form 2 and you had accepted that as your default state. Somehow, during Winter Quarter, you will form some kind of sleep-schedule, and 7.5 hours will become your new magic number. You will choose to sleep instead of fighting your assignments at 2am. It will be wonderful. Somehow, you will find yourself with about 17 units of classes, 2 of which are from a class you’d already taken for half of Freshman Spring. You will have oodles of “free time” which really means actually taking care of yourself, exercising and feeling more in control of your life. You realize that free time doesn’t need to be filled with things, and you will try not to feel lazy for having so much free time.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://web.stanford.edu/dept/CTL/cgi-bin/academicskillscoaching/why-does-the-duck-stop-here/">Duck syndrome</a>, anyone?</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Self-care will become a buzzword in your life, and you will start to notice the things you value most: relationships and faith and well-being and having time to reflect and think. You will realize - and sometimes resent - how much Stanford works against these ideals, how the glorification of being busy or sleep-deprived has somehow become a norm, how it’s better to be over-committed than under-involved. False. You will have to constantly remind yourself that your needs are not someone else’s, and it’s okay to do you. You don’t have to do as much as everyone else seems to be doing, and you will have to remember that you have found things that are important to you, things that you’re happy to remain a part of. You will have to remind yourself that you value depth over breadth, and long-term commitments mean more to you than dappling. And, similarly, that the dapplers might prefer the opposite, and that’s fine, too.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Halfway through the quarter, you’ll decide that you want to go home for Spring Break, because homesickness has started creeping in, and the Carnival Season coinciding with Stanford’s rainy winters is always going to be a sad time for you. You will cry because you long to be at Panorama, and you will dance to soca in your room instead of studying, and you will feel euphoric when the DJs at the CSA party play <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v7cnGiQ4ZTE">Palance</a> to end the night. This is somehow enough to take you through to Spring Break, a much-needed vacation which flies by with a swoosh.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Spring Quarter is going to be it’s own roller coaster - both because of it’s fast pace and the ups and downs. The ups and downs are much less stressing and much more self-reflection. You will look at yourself in the mirror and wonder if you like what you see; then you will look at who you are on the inside and wonder the same things. But you’ll also finally feel at peace with your involvements at Stanford, and feel like you’ve found your niche here. You will have late nights but only a couple all-nighters (not ideal, please try to cut this habit) but this time you ditch the self-loathing and somehow let yourself breathe. You will find yourself unprecedentedly invested in things, and will sometimes feel insecure about your own excitement. Then you’ll remind yourself that regardless of what people think, you should give yourself the freedom to be yourself. No one else can give you that freedom.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You will fill your time with things you love, and though you’ll have much less free time than Winter Quarter, you will feel just as fulfilled. You will come to appreciate the friendships that you’ve had here, and each relationship you’ve formed at Stanford will become that much more important in your life in it’s own way. You will marvel at how quickly the quarter flies despite everything that happens in that time and how much things change.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You will make some difficult decisions. You will question yourself. You will go through oscillations of thinking, from “I got this” to “What am I doing?”. You will question your feelings. You will remind yourself that it’s okay to feel what you feel, that there’s no blueprint for how you’re supposed to feel about x thing or y situation.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Stolen from your own FB timeline: <i>Love me some<br />double chocolate</i> (aka an uncharacteristically</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You will also feel intellectually stimulated. You will fall in love with your Creative Non-Fiction class and tell everyone who asks how much you’re loving the readings, the discussions, and the class itself. You will read more than 7 books this quarter, and 12+ essays from your classmates. You will add 3-4 more books to your reading list. You will write a 20-page essay about racial identity, and in doing so, you will open up to people you’ve barely met about something you’ve just started to figure out yourself. You will feel inspired, and enlightened and will begin craving a deeper connection to your history and your ancestors’ history and what it means for yourself at present, specifically what it means in the context of racial identity. You will start to think more about the notion of blackness, especially as it relates to you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You will end the year with the same enthusiasm and hope that you came in with, and again, I’ll tell you to not dampen that excitement. Stay positive. Life is still unpredictable, but that’s okay. You still have a lot to look forward to. A Summer at Stanford is one of those things. You’ve already run through your “Why Summer 2017 is going to be amazing” list in your head a million times. You wonder whether you are making a mistake in having the same high expectations that got you into the sophomore slump in the first place. But then you will remember how sophomore year only went uphill from Fall Quarter. You will be glad for the person you’ve become at the end of it all, and realize just how far you have to go.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">You realize that you have reached the halfway point in your Stanford career. You are awaiting the final approval for declaring your Human Biology major, which feels like it’s what you’re meant to be doing. You will declare a Creative Writing minor once HumBio gets approved. You start making a mental list of all the things you hope to do or try before you leave Stanford, and suddenly two years doesn’t feel like enough.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It will be enough - and I know you’ll make the most of it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">-Astrid</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A beautiful and calming scene outside of Old Union - a</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">and anywhere.</span></td></tr>
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Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6551318344612845679.post-28370072979412520712017-06-04T18:44:00.002-07:002017-06-09T13:36:08.837-07:00The Beauty of Community<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">There were one too many times this quarter when I felt like no one at Stanford really understood me, or I couldn’t really be myself around anyone, or I just couldn't fully connect with people because of cultural or personal or other barriers. Or some iteration of that sentiment has been running through my head, and I now call BS on myself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, not completely. I’ll admit that there are times I <i>do </i>feel like that, and it’s not an invalid feeling - it’s just not an accurate reflection of reality. In reality I <i>know</i> I have communities and friends to turn to, but in the moments of sadness it’s harder to remember that and easier to fall into the “no one understands me” self-pity.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So what reminds me of the communities I have here? I’m thinking about Friday night, when we had our last CSA lime of the quarter, and I’d come from a dance show before (which was so hype omg Stanford Jump Rope is amazing! These shows always fill me with so much energy and make me wish that I could dance, or at least improve my dance skills if we’re going with the “everyone can dance” growth mindset). Anyway, I was hyped and ready to hang out with CSA, and also typically late in Caribbean fashion because, yea I was coming from something else, but also I wanted to arrive when things were already pumping so I could just feed off of everyone else’s energy. But I think Stanford isn’t as conducive to Caribbean lateness because everyone’s actually so busy and time is precious and if we say we’re liming from 9:30 then there’s actually a sort of expectation that people are coming for that time. Welp.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Long story short, I went to the lime and we had food, played Heads Up (or some kind of charades app) and then there was a “guess the song” section which turned into some kind of karaoke/acapella/singalong, and I laughed my heart out that night. (Wait pause, what a coincidence that Vybz Kartel’s “Fever” is playing on my youtube playlist RIGHT NOW as I write this because I was about to talk about that!! What the heck!!) I was gonna say that we then went into full-on dance-party mode, playing soca and dancehall and all the hits that make Caribbean people get turnt. And non-CSA folks and friends were in and out of the room dancing and pumping with us, and we made up a dance routine to Kartel’s Fever so that we could squad up during our next CSA party and do the dance, which would be <i>hilarious </i>and I really hope it happens.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It’s weird - I didn’t really feel self-conscious about my lack of dance skills - or my limited, yet-to-be-mproved dance skills if we’re going with the growth mindset. I just had a good time, and danced and sang along and realized that I felt <i>so at home. </i>Where else could I sing along to Mr. Fete and Palance in unison with friends? I left with the euphoria of having danced and sung my heart out but also the deep satisfaction and contentment of feeling connected to a group of people. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And I realize that though the “connection euphoria” isn’t always there, that doesn’t mean the connection isn’t. Every moment isn’t gonna be glamorous and “omg I relate with these people so well”, but at the end of the day, I have found community here, in various capacities, and I am so so grateful for that.</span></div>
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Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6551318344612845679.post-9596627259841862602017-03-08T23:53:00.000-08:002017-07-12T00:12:56.685-07:0021 Reflections<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>Cheers to 21 Years of Life!</b></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yes, today is the big day, it's my 21st birthday! I am celebrating my 21 years in a couple ways: 1) Treating myself to some pampering & self-care 2) Reflecting 3) A possible night out with friends 4) Having a fresh start!</span><br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ok, so it’s my 4th fresh start for the year - after New Years, then the start of Winter Quarter, then the beginning of Lent and now my 21st Birthday. But I just love love love the idea of giving yourself another chance. I know nothing inherently changes in my life on either of these days - all these ‘fresh starts’ are truly social constructs, or in my case, personal mental constructs, but I buy into them anyway. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBxqsY7S3ngnqGbVvbnktIR2HA6tXKZ8X4KttAfGUjbv3Z13us3-bGUF8xO-iWAXqvHRmT8iDGFAkIVoLV6DXyfL4S1CzyOVks_zxzzYUHFJzZp_LhB8HjQg18S242XlYVbX_znAvZFeg/s1600/Lake+lag.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBxqsY7S3ngnqGbVvbnktIR2HA6tXKZ8X4KttAfGUjbv3Z13us3-bGUF8xO-iWAXqvHRmT8iDGFAkIVoLV6DXyfL4S1CzyOVks_zxzzYUHFJzZp_LhB8HjQg18S242XlYVbX_znAvZFeg/s400/Lake+lag.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Lag - finally filled with water! Fresh starts indeed :)</td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Thing<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> is, I have super high standards for myself, but, you know, life gets in the way. I’m not always the person I want to be. But it’s <i>not</i> because my standards are too high and my goals unrealistic. It’s because I’m not a robot, I’m human and I’m not perfect. So these fresh starts are about learning to forgive myself for my mistakes, to know that it’s okay to not be on top of my game 24/7, and to allow myself breathing room to pause, reflect and move forward. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And this time leading up to my 21st birthday - a milestone if you ask me! - is the perfect time to do just that: reflect and move forward. Who do I want to be? Am I happy with who I am? Have I grown? I wrote a brief <a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2016/03/thoughts-on-turning-20.html">reflection on turning 20</a>, and I think the best birthday gift I can give myself every year is to continue this trend and see my growth in years to come. There is such a <a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2016/11/growing-pains.html">beauty in becoming</a>.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><b>1. Self-Acceptance vs External Validation</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Here's a throwback: I remember going to a school bazaar at 14, and not being allowed to go into the disco because my mom thought I was too young. And sitting outside in the cafeteria, at a table, with my friends, eating corn soup like we were little old ladies out for tea. And this girl I used to run with coming out of the disco and seeing me, and then telling everyone in training the next day how “uncool” and “lame” I was because I didn’t go to the disco like everyone else. And this being something I somehow internalized and believed for a long time. Until I reached to college and a friend tells me I’m one of the coolest people she’s met, and my mind goes straight back to that day outside the disco, and I wonder how much of my self-acceptance is real, and how much comes from external validation.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">2. Contentment vs External Validation</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I also wonder how much of my contentment with life comes from external validation and how much is real. I’ve been feeling a happy confidence boost for the last week or so because some of the uncertain things about this quarter that I weren’t sure would work out have worked out swimmingly well, but if the tables were turned, would I feel the same way? Would I let rejection bring down my self-esteem? Would I be able to pick myself up and move forward?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">3. Perfectionism & my Hot Mess Day</span></b></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijzYz1aoPPhIoDLNXL-4-oyHw1foBY4XZ2ynK3vYUk9OQI-diDH1YZlBzLKuaJ35ROo_h7OnJMGw7GQyxXJBSpG4_-JUNBbA5iO7yxZWTIbyLWZUfH0pIK8U9gzgbur-7tr26EPqA7pWU/s1600/21+bday+selfie.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijzYz1aoPPhIoDLNXL-4-oyHw1foBY4XZ2ynK3vYUk9OQI-diDH1YZlBzLKuaJ35ROo_h7OnJMGw7GQyxXJBSpG4_-JUNBbA5iO7yxZWTIbyLWZUfH0pIK8U9gzgbur-7tr26EPqA7pWU/s320/21+bday+selfie.JPG" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Birthday selfie! But if you look<br />
closely enough you'll see the chinks<br />
in my armor, the cracks in that<br />
'tries to be perfect' exterior, and<br />
the stress hidden right below<br />
the surface (I had the MOST<br />
packed day of my entire quarter<br />
ahead. Not ideal)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I had a true hot mess day last quarter, a day that I just did not (could not?), <i>would not</i> get out of bed to go to class. Walking into class the next day, after missing that one class, I felt like the lowest of the low, like I had let myself and the professor down big time, like I did not deserve to be understood or pardoned, and now there was a crack in my carefully crafted perfect exterior, and the gooeyness of my inner hot mess self was seeping through and on display for everyone to see.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>4. Realizing that no one cares (in a good way)</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">That hot mess day made me realize 2 things: 1) Just how hard I try to be perfect, and the shock that comes when I realize I cannot be 2) Life went on as usual, and </span>everyone<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> is actually so </span>engrossed<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> in their own lives that they are not tracking how well I'm holding up my perfect exterior (a relief, to be honest)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">5. The Joy of Music</span></b></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisf4a_sSEjJ5oVsMM4HjJR3Eo6Ktbfg2M7IFtkAzdW0YOuALtTWJ8gfJu0d7OBb7W4-ue-RTkC5xqtJwGohpPvKqCzqtSu42dc3Ux2o3x9AglT3OltqdOe2bqkoeFc7ZAaSfnIzt-atfE/s1600/andy+narell+concert.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisf4a_sSEjJ5oVsMM4HjJR3Eo6Ktbfg2M7IFtkAzdW0YOuALtTWJ8gfJu0d7OBb7W4-ue-RTkC5xqtJwGohpPvKqCzqtSu42dc3Ux2o3x9AglT3OltqdOe2bqkoeFc7ZAaSfnIzt-atfE/s400/andy+narell+concert.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Performing at<br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/pg/CardinalCalypso/photos/?tab=album&album_id=1343797379032659">Cardinal Calypso's concert with Andy Narell</a>!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Specifically the steelpan, my national instrument and one of the things I whole-heartedly love. Performing = Euphoria, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">6. Am I a Hypocrite? - Pt. 1 (Writing)</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I love to write - difficult to say even now, because do I really love to write? Or do I just love the idea of being a writer? Do I love actually writing, or just the finished product? Is it possible to love one and not the other? (When) Can I call myself a writer? Anyway, whatever the implications, I love to write, yet I’ve been struggling through the research paper I have to write for my PWR class.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">7. Songs that I've had on repeat this last year</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LRP8d7hhpoQ">Hallelujah - Pentatonix</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_4EnQdeZIE8">Something Beautiful - Tori Kelly</a> (and mostly any and all Tori Kelly, especially <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=njmCUJ94lUM">Dear No One</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9u3FY7nedXg">Falling Slow</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nsbcKoRAiF4">Hollow</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yjv0SW6skRw">Art of Letting You Go</a>, and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CVOvhKCYKAc">Unbreakable Smile</a>)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XeM0lzQhigg">Reaper - Sia</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rWwmMSMzEyw">The Little Things - Colbie Caillat</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W2DIb1gCmBw">Cheers to Life - Voice</a></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXuxGX6rb0M7BFGVSlivCChNZrfFuAsSClnM4m1yZyK8Z6TTZMJTdkByZHNWONhyphenhyphenSAtxsiwJC-aP_wNhtpgbKdB6BtOMIx_5xCHFo9dGWmxJs9IM1YSTlPEyftakADA2glopU_Q-kSzyw/s1600/17157678_1000293113447555_1072351442678440948_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="852" data-original-width="1136" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXuxGX6rb0M7BFGVSlivCChNZrfFuAsSClnM4m1yZyK8Z6TTZMJTdkByZHNWONhyphenhyphenSAtxsiwJC-aP_wNhtpgbKdB6BtOMIx_5xCHFo9dGWmxJs9IM1YSTlPEyftakADA2glopU_Q-kSzyw/s320/17157678_1000293113447555_1072351442678440948_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the Reunion Dinner!<br />
The true definition of a family away from home <3</td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">8. Highlights of my Quarter</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Performing at Arillaga Late Night with Cardinal Calypso, CSA’s Winter Party, Calypso Reunion Dinner</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">9. Take Back the Stigma</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">An event hosted by the Stanford Mental Health Outreach. Brave souls shared their stories of mental illness - depression, suicide, anxiety to name a few. I cannot do this experience justice, but I will try: It was such a courageous show of openness and vulnerability that tears welled in my eyes. It reinforced the idea that the only way to truly reach people is to be vulnerable and real about your experiences, because that’s how we share our humanity. It reminded me of how far we have to go in de-stigmatizing mental illness, and providing necessary support for those suffering from these. It is real, as real as physical infectious illnesses, and it is difficult. And it may have inspired me to revisit the idea of becoming a psychiatrist. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">10. Revisiting the <a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2016/09/should-i-become-doctor.html">pre-med dilemma</a></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Do I want to become a psychiatrist? </span></span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Have I made a mistake in moving away from Pre-Med? The issues surrounding mental health are so moving and troubling to me that I feel pulled in the direction of being of service to this community. Am I making a mistake? Is it too late?</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">11. I still care what people think</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It amazes me that I almost didn’t go to last week’s Zumba session because it was in White Plaza - a public open space in the middle of Stanford’s campus - as opposed to it’s usual private location at the gym. Shaking my body, moving my hips, dancing in public? Not my jam. (Spoiler: I ended up going, thank God)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">12. Stepping out of my comfort zone - Pt. 1</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">During my gap year, I tried out for and got cast in a local high-school fashion show. What was I thinking??</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">13. Stepping out of my comfort zone - Pt. 2</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today, I signed up for a Spring fashion show at Stanford. What am I thinking?? (didn't end up doing it because of time conflicts and I won't lie, I was pretty relieved)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">14. Am I a Hypocrite? - Pt. 2 (Dancing)</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I realize that I love to dance, but I tell anyone who would listen how much I can’t dance - though I’ve changed the sentiment to “I can dance and keep rhythm, but I’m just really stiff and a bit uncoordinated”. Yet I’ve found that the moment I don’t care what others think, is the moment I free myself to dance without inhibitions. And you know when I have these moments? When I zumba. (see point 11)</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi8XOvLQ6HxZYLSzz4TtsgSE-etvu6o6TSZ25ZKIG2mWN8lVUUq65B-VkaTG-7gJaN9cTCs7mmXszKqXIqvXxjAXxyb45CshWprCyirZaJ5Saw_8vzkAFnCIgdHxFRLeOTnh_tyo5nsXI/s1600/50537142989__F6246598-45FA-4384-9E9B-14C439E1EF68.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi8XOvLQ6HxZYLSzz4TtsgSE-etvu6o6TSZ25ZKIG2mWN8lVUUq65B-VkaTG-7gJaN9cTCs7mmXszKqXIqvXxjAXxyb45CshWprCyirZaJ5Saw_8vzkAFnCIgdHxFRLeOTnh_tyo5nsXI/s320/50537142989__F6246598-45FA-4384-9E9B-14C439E1EF68.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Throwback to having long nails during<br />
Christmas break when there was limited<br />
stress in my life #RIP</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">15. </span></b></span><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Am I a Hypocrite? - Pt. 3 (</span></b><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Nail-Biting Confessions)</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I have tried - and failed - to stop biting my nails every year for the last 5 years. When I succeed for a couple weeks, I flaunt them with bright colors and talk about how I’ve finally kicked the nail-biting habit. Then stress creeps in and it’s game over.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">16. My Latin Music Awakening</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">How did I begin to fall in love with reggaeton/latin music? Maybe it was zumba. Or last quarter’s Latin party. Honestly. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJQP7kiw5Fk">Despacito</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7jpqqBX-Myw">Reggaeton Lento</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-UV0QGLmYys">La Bicicleta</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NUsoVlDFqZg">Bailando</a> have been on repeat <i>alllllll</i> quarter.</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>17. More Confessions</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I fear being fake so much that I delayed publishing my <a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2016/08/working-with-missionaries-of-poor-mop.html">service experiences</a> for almost 6 months. Why do I still care if people judge me based on </span>what<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> I write & decide to share?</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">18. </span>God</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">'Nuff said. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jk this needs some elaboration:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Honestly, I do not know how I would survive college (or life) without the rock of faith in my life. Some things have worked out so well that it is really, truly, nothing short of a miracle. "</span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Do your best and God does the rest"</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">has never rung truer.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>19. Realizing a lot of things</b>...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>[4 months later...</i>Let me be honest here: this is where I'd stopped writing the original post because I got sick of my voice and didn't have the heart to continue :( But reading it an entire 4 months later makes me want to finish what I started so let me do just that]</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>20.</b> </span><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Am I a Hypocrite? - Pt. 4 (Introversion)</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The fact that I'm an introvert is one of those things I discovered during my gap year, along with the <a href="https://www.16personalities.com/free-personality-test">Myers-Briggs personality test</a> and my newfound <a href="https://www.16personalities.com/infj-personality">INFJ</a> classification. But I also find myself craving company and actively seeking out activities and people, which feels sort of out of my nature sometimes and makes me wonder whether I'm some sort of phony-introvert. But then I spend an entire day on my own and feel at peace and recharged (and reassured that my introversion is quite intact and not going anywhere).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>21. On Journaling</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm so glad I got back into the habit because I saw my mood and my life improve right before my eyes when I started back journaling. It's such a healthy outlet for me - though I keep my composure and keep my thoughts to myself in real life, on the pages I rant and rave and vent like it's nobody's business. Because it isn't!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway ciao, your girl is 21. Time to keep livin' my life to the fullest! (Clearly this isn't working out too well because it's 1:25am on a Sunday night and I have work the next morning aka ~8 hours from now. Good night!)</span></div>
Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6551318344612845679.post-32604190505878933232017-02-12T01:25:00.001-08:002017-02-12T09:53:53.265-08:00Updates Galore!<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Hello there😊</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">First of all, thanks for reading! I've just updated my blog with a <i>ton</i> of new (and old) content to satiate all your reading needs. Here they are, sorted for your enjoyment, starting with my most recent post about dealing with insecurities and perfectionism:</span><br />
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2017/02/stuck-in-perfect-rut.html" target="_blank">Stuck in a Perfect Rut - Trying to be perfect doesn't work</a></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/search/label/poetry" target="_blank">Poems</a></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/search?updated-min=2012-01-01T00:00:00-08:00&updated-max=2013-01-01T00:00:00-08:00&max-results=2" target="_blank">Throwbacks</a></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2015_10_01_archive.html" target="_blank">Lessons from my early Stanford days</a></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/search/label/travels" target="_blank">Travels</a></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/search/label/service" target="_blank">Service Reflections - Working with the Missionaries of the Poor in Jamaica</a></span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Read on for descriptions and sneak peeks!</b></span><br />
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">If you're a perfectionist who needs a slap back to reality: <a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2017/02/stuck-in-perfect-rut.html" target="_blank">Stuck in a Perfect Rut</a></span></li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7jtr_IFeRN728jw4fuKFFaTsoSewnJ83lL898F2BAqW3uirzpAtUreQmW1H1p2RcE55tZjX4QdkgoMrbBwDWg23_lCouiY3IVzJjdWdcQaB0aPcVF2UO7HNfxu8mrq1p8hbFSS2D0k3M/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-02-12+at+1.11.28+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7jtr_IFeRN728jw4fuKFFaTsoSewnJ83lL898F2BAqW3uirzpAtUreQmW1H1p2RcE55tZjX4QdkgoMrbBwDWg23_lCouiY3IVzJjdWdcQaB0aPcVF2UO7HNfxu8mrq1p8hbFSS2D0k3M/s640/Screen+Shot+2017-02-12+at+1.11.28+AM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">For all the poetry-lovers out there: <a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/search/label/poetry" target="_blank">Here are all the poems</a></span></li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9zbKZInikWeFo88ob9HdZf4RPGquwhYUNFNmVtkvMCLbYrwMEuvDkJvvK2iGyv1aoLX1vsMQGo-XfD5uR2AO5_BC3iSJIkbxkJhSPw6qHOEKIBVIfxMEY16qZXGcXNtYseXK2JiDH_AE/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-02-12+at+1.11.43+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9zbKZInikWeFo88ob9HdZf4RPGquwhYUNFNmVtkvMCLbYrwMEuvDkJvvK2iGyv1aoLX1vsMQGo-XfD5uR2AO5_BC3iSJIkbxkJhSPw6qHOEKIBVIfxMEY16qZXGcXNtYseXK2JiDH_AE/s640/Screen+Shot+2017-02-12+at+1.11.43+AM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Wanna go back in time? Here are some throwbacks to stuff I wrote way back in 2012: <a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/search?updated-min=2012-01-01T00:00:00-08:00&updated-max=2013-01-01T00:00:00-08:00&max-results=2" target="_blank">Throwback posts</a></span></li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgczljORrGlW41Z-Ton0fvSOV_wmv9R8PIeefjfqAVfnrhec0FF2vy3L2opiYP3W6xTIafJvTqwOjQmmkHxWd4Q6JPEfzSbJrcPOLbl0y0u24edfBP9MZjlcN8eIayOC2RH7z_yZpBKjM8/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-02-12+at+1.12.06+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgczljORrGlW41Z-Ton0fvSOV_wmv9R8PIeefjfqAVfnrhec0FF2vy3L2opiYP3W6xTIafJvTqwOjQmmkHxWd4Q6JPEfzSbJrcPOLbl0y0u24edfBP9MZjlcN8eIayOC2RH7z_yZpBKjM8/s640/Screen+Shot+2017-02-12+at+1.12.06+AM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Check out some early Stanford posts here, and how university taught me to be a smarter reader & note-taker: <a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2015_10_01_archive.html" target="_blank">Lessons from my early Stanford days</a></span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Feeling for adventure? Check out the new 'Travel' page I added: <a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/search/label/travels" target="_blank">Travels Galore</a></span></li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtgVt0B9HDFHNqOdcNCBCCOZDYoLdXCREt8ryAddsi7Aza38Zmu6bdyWsFdqxXdEqyqR43ZA7y6_yx3r1Df3uYyqsq8Z4sY4JWMIdGH5jvglqOmhfduwXqrpOGg1vD4g3Dl7OYVpO5iyk/s1600/Screen+Shot+2017-02-12+at+1.12.58+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtgVt0B9HDFHNqOdcNCBCCOZDYoLdXCREt8ryAddsi7Aza38Zmu6bdyWsFdqxXdEqyqR43ZA7y6_yx3r1Df3uYyqsq8Z4sY4JWMIdGH5jvglqOmhfduwXqrpOGg1vD4g3Dl7OYVpO5iyk/s640/Screen+Shot+2017-02-12+at+1.12.58+AM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Want something to pull on your heartstrings? Read about my experience working with the Missionaries of the Poor (MOP) in Jamaica: <a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/search/label/service" target="_blank">MOP Reflections</a></span></li>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Hope you enjoy!</span>Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6551318344612845679.post-60622888727657920552017-02-10T13:39:00.000-08:002017-02-12T03:12:07.907-08:00Stuck in a Perfect Rut<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Trying to be perfect doesn't work</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>It’s application season - everyone around me is applying to various summer positions etc and while I am, too, I more often find myself not applying to things than actually submitting applications...</i></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">True? I think not. The failure is in not even trying. As I've come to realize.</span></td></tr>
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Hey there, so it’s been a while since I blogged and I’m trying to figure out why. I guess it’s because a lot of my recent posts have been fueled by an intense surge of emotions, ones that make me feel like I </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">need </span></i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">to write and get it out because I can’t move forward if I don’t. But I haven’t really felt that recently. My head's been pretty clear. Which might say something good about my <a href="https://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2014/12/a-letter-from-your-emotions-why-they.html" target="_blank">emotional state</a>, but of course there’s always stuff going on below the surface.</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Maybe that’s just it: you need a clear head in order to face the deeper things. <b>You need to give yourself room to breathe and see yourself clearly. </b></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So though I’m more relaxed on the surface - been managing my schedule to include hella free time and relaxation and time to exercise and do my face masks and hang out with friends (aka my way of giving myself breathing room) - on the inside my mind has been a whirlwind. Or a fog or a swamp or a storm. Here’s what’s up…</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Like I said, it’s application season - everyone around me is applying to various summer/research positions, internships, jobs and all kinda things, and while I am, too, I more often find myself not applying to things than actually submitting applications.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://theawkwardyeti.com/comic/burden/">'The Burden' - by the Awkward Yeti</a></td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Which is sad, because right now I can think of at least 3 specific opportunities that I have missed and regret missing, simply because I didn’t submit the application. I’d sit there, doubting myself and my qualifications for the specific opportunity, and wondering what would make me stand out, and then <i>bam</i>, the deadline passes and it’s an opportunity lost.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The thing is, I am so acutely aware of this shortcoming - this need to be perfect and fit every single criteria for a position. And I realize <b>it comes down to the fact that I only want to apply to things I think I’ll get - things that I feel fully qualified for - because I want to put my best foot forward and not make a mistake.</b> If I don’t feel like I fit the mold perfectly for a position, I self-doubt, I feel insecure, which makes me unable to move forward because it doesn’t feel worth the effort of applying to something that I don’t have a high chance of getting into.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But that’s such a wrong mindset.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwGCUYPD8YQgLYAHlLdXmrIpB_TbFNe2tVxBrPu7_OZJaqogH6Cm2T-ZZy7QWJIm0uDaCfVB7ZmAnB_y-z-1M5dae3lQyvzrAxjMW8rj7g7ErRaUxF9_K8pfaoYepu7CFAJj8YDt8a0mk/s1600/half+moon+bay.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwGCUYPD8YQgLYAHlLdXmrIpB_TbFNe2tVxBrPu7_OZJaqogH6Cm2T-ZZy7QWJIm0uDaCfVB7ZmAnB_y-z-1M5dae3lQyvzrAxjMW8rj7g7ErRaUxF9_K8pfaoYepu7CFAJj8YDt8a0mk/s320/half+moon+bay.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gotta dive right in!</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I learnt something important today: <b>not having all the qualifications for something means that you have something to learn from the experience!</b> Why am I sitting here thinking that I need to bring my most polished self to every opportunity, when there’s no such thing as the perfect fit? I need to be willing to learn and grow from experiences. I need to get over this fear of failure.<b> I need to dive right into this raging uncertainty and see where it takes me</b>. That’s the only way to move forward.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Because if I’m being real with myself, I have been feeling stuck. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So this week I finally decided to talk it out, and, you know, it helped. It’s so hard to open up about insecurities and it truly sucks because I want to have it all together and not show this struggling side of myself. It feels like a weakness. Funny thing is that everyone has insecurities which means that if it’s weakness, we all have it and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. But I shouldn’t even be thinking of this in the context of anyone else because it doesn’t even matter; we all have our own things going on and everyone’s different. The faster I realize that is the faster I can move forward and accept myself, and learn to navigate and mold my shortcomings into learning experiences. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I guess it doesn’t make sense to try to just get rid of your weaknesses - actually, I should say ‘insecurities’ not ‘weaknesses’ because I really shouldn’t be using them interchangeably; an insecurity is not a weakness, because “weak” conveys that you’re lacking something, that it’s something you gotta work on, like having a vice or something. But I think insecurities are there and might never necessarily completely go away, so we might as well learn to weather them and channel the feelings of insecurity into something that challenges us. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Hey, I like how that sounds: <b>let your insecurities challenge you. Challenge yourself to challenge your insecurities.</b> The point is not to rid yourself of every insecurity you’ve ever felt (probably unrealistic, right) but to use insecurities to help you grow. In my case, it means pushing forward and facing myself and submitting applications even if I’m not 100% sure about it.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Eh, <a href="https://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2016/11/growing-pains.html" target="_blank">this is hard.</a> It’s emotionally taxing, actually - overthinking these things all the time and self-doubting and not giving myself the freedom to take on a challenge and make a mistake. And it’s even more taxing to open up about it and let people help you through it. But it’s freeing at the same time, so overall I feel good, I feel hopeful and I’m looking forward to the challenge ahead of me. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="color: #45818e; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Moving forward, I want to remember these 7 things:</b></span></span></div>
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<li><b style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Continue giving myself room to breathe so I can see myself clearly.</span></b></li>
<li><b style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">When in doubt, talk it out. Sometimes, we gotta let ourselves be helped.</span></b></li>
<li><b style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">If I’m not ‘perfectly qualified’ for something, it means I have something to learn from it. Learning is good.</span></b></li>
<li><b style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Dive into the raging uncertainty.</span></b></li>
<li><b style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Insecurities ≠ Weaknesses</span></b></li>
<li><b style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Let my insecurities challenge me. </span></b></li>
<li><b style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Give myself freedom to make a mistake.</span></b></li>
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</style>Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6551318344612845679.post-78173295559860454942016-12-11T17:36:00.003-08:002017-11-28T02:00:50.324-08:00I am Shannon<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: 18px;">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">On the afternoon of Monday December 5th, 20-year-old Shannon Banfield left her work office in Port-of-Spain, the bustling capital of Trinidad & Tobago. She called her mother to say that she was stopping by a couple stores downtown before taking transportation to return home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>She never reached home.</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Her mother appealed to the nation to help find her missing daughter, and eventually, she was found…</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">…found dead, her decomposing body stuffed among boxes in the warehouse of a home goods store on Charlotte Street, Port-of-Spain. Her clothing was torn and shopping bags lay nearby.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yes, it is graphic. Yes, it should make you cringe. Yes, it is appalling and it is <i>unacceptable</i>. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Shannon is not the first, nor will she be the last, Trinidadian woman to become a statistic. But what was it about Shannon’s case that has sent the nation reeling, traumatized and crying for justice for this young woman?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Maybe it was because she was so young. I thought to myself, <i>she was my age.</i> That could’ve easily been me, calling my mother to say I was going to make a few stops before heading home.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Maybe it was the seemingly normal circumstances surrounding her murder. It could have been anyone leaving work that day: your son, daughter, cousin, nephew, mother, niece, friend, girlfriend, boyfriend, husband, wife…</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Maybe it’s because we all see ourselves in Shannon. We go about our daily routines thinking that if we take the necessary steps - if we are aware of our surroundings, if we be careful, and dress well - that we can protect ourselves from the violence and crime that engulf our country.</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: 18px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But Shannon’s case proves that this is not so. It is not about where you go, what you wear, what you’re doing, the company you keep, or the hours that you’re out and about. She was <i>murdered in broad daylight</i>, doing something as mundane as <i>shopping after work</i>. Of course, we don’t know the exact circumstances surrounding this murder, but from what has been pieced together so far, it seems that nothing should have been amiss.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yet, Shannon never arrived home that night. Her mother never heard her daughter’s voice after that last phone call. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Where have we reached as a nation when it is no longer safe for a woman to go shopping after work? How can we call this place a paradise when our people are killing and being killed <i>every single day? </i></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: 18px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">How do we celebrate our rich culture when we lack something as important as respect for human life? When every new murder sends another family into mourning? When our girls are disappearing and showing up dead, days later? When people are being shot and stabbed in broad daylight? When it is no longer safe to walk the streets on your own? </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>WHAT DO WE DO?</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">There are criminals out there looking for opportunities to grab, steal, kill, rape. They are not afraid of the consequences. Sure, we can increase </span>security<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> and incur severe punishments, but this cannot erase the anger and violence </span>embedded in our society<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">. Many crimes are probably crimes of passion, too; robberies that turn into murder because the victim fought back. Or a simple dispute becoming a homicide when someone’s anger gets out of control. We will never know exactly what leads to these devastating crimes, because the truth goes to the grave along with the victims.</span></span></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">As citizens of Trinidad & Tobago, and of the world (because these crimes, especially against women, are </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">not</i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> limited to T&T), what do we do about this seemingly hopeless situation?</span></b></span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Of course, we can offer our prayers. Prayer never hurts.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Of course, we can tell our children, “Be careful. Don’t stay out too late. Park in a safe spot. Remember to lock the car.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But these warnings can be futile, and our prayers <i>must</i> be accompanied by action.</span></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>I truly believe that the best way to make a change is to start at home, to begin teaching our children the value of human life and how to respect each other. </b></span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We need to teach our young men <i>especially</i> how to respect women. Love is <i>not</i> a war and a woman is <i>not</i> a conquest. Teach them that a woman is in no way obligated to say yes to him because he has shown interest or somehow “proven” himself. Teach them to accept rejection with grace. Teach them how to deal with their anger. Teach them that it is not okay to turn to violence, to lash out at others, to hurl words and abuse as if these can solve the problem. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>What’s more, we need to lead by example to fix this twisted mentality ingrained in our society today.</b></span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">To my fellow Trinbagonians, we have been silent for way too long. We have a voice and it is time we say something and stand up for this injustice. And action can take so many forms: marches, protests, social media posts, conversations…the goal is to bring awareness and to increase sensitivity. Everyday on the news there is a new murder, stabbing, rape, or missing person. Every. Single. Day. We must <i>not</i> become de-sensitized! Do <i>not</i> brush it off! Do <i>not</i> lament, “What really going on in T&T, boy?” then switch the channel and move on! Talk about it! </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Use the #IAmShannon hashtag and </span><i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">speak out. </i></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Share your grief, share your shock and make people aware that we are not meant to be by-standers.</b></span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Call out your friends when they make lewd comments about women. Fathers, talk to your sons about how they treat the women in their life, including their own mothers and sisters. Everyone, take action if you see injustice. Doing nothing makes us just as culpable as the perpetrator. We cannot stand idle. We must assert ourselves. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It <i>will</i> be hard. I’m the first to admit that I’m more tempted to walk away from injustice than to stand up for it. I’d prefer to avoid conflict and tension wherever I can. But this has to change. </span></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>I</i> need to change in order to <i>make</i> a change.</b></span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yes, it’s scary to think about. Speaking up <i>can</i> be dangerous and can result in threats, blackmail or it can even get you killed. How do you weigh the risk of speaking out against the chance of making a change? I really don’t know. But we’ve got to try, somehow.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And it <i>will</i> take time. Crime will not decline in a day, a month, a year or even a decade. It may take generations of action to see any effective change. In fact, it never completely goes away. But the shift to a better society has to start somewhere. Let’s teach this incoming generation and future generations what it is to be a model citizen, what it is to truly <i>love one another.</i> We are <i>all</i> human beings, occupying the same earth, and to dust we will <i>all</i> return. </span></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>So while we are here and alive, let us pledge to live a life of love.</b></span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">To Shannon Banfield, and every other person that we have lost to crime, hatred and violence over the years: you did not deserve what happened to you. No one deserves to have their life snatched away, no matter the circumstances. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We feel your pain. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Your deaths will not go in vain.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today, I pledge to do better.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today, and every day, I am Shannon.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/f8/12/4a/f8124ae712bdca2dc76b5a80440788a0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="202" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/f8/12/4a/f8124ae712bdca2dc76b5a80440788a0.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Things you can do RIGHT NOW to make a difference!</u></b></span></span></div>
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<ol>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">If you’re a parent, <b>have a serious conversation with your children</b> about anger management, sexual harassment and/or respecting and loving others.</span></span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Pledge</b> with a group of friends to stand up to injustice wherever you can, no matter how small the situation. Hold each other accountable.</span></span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Check out the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/officiallifeinleggings/" target="_blank">#Lifeinleggings</a> hashtag</b> on Facebook, started by 2 Barbadian women to bring awareness to the sexual harassment that women face in the Caribbean, and worldwide. Read, understand and empathize.</span></span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Share your stories</b> with others so we can all begin to understand what our fellow citizens are going through, and increase empathy and sensitivity.</span></span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Watch the news</b> with your children. Use it as a conversation starting point. Ask them, “What do you think of the crime situation? What do you think we can do? What would have been a more appropriate reaction in that situation?”</span></span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Listen to the people in your life.</b> If someone wants to share something important with you, listen to them, and believe them if they say they are being abused, for example.</span></span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Speak out.</b> If you know someone who’s abusive to another - physically, sexually, emotionally or verbally - think about ways to intervene.</span></span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Get help.</b> If you know you suffer from anger management issues or another deep-rooted problem, do not be afraid to seek the help of others, or even professional help if necessary. There is no shame in wanting to better yourself for your own sake or the sake of loved ones.</span></span></li>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">These are just a few ideas that I have. I am by no means a psychologist, and some problems are much bigger and more deep-rooted than I am qualified to give advice for, but these are possible ways to start effecting change. Remember, there are countless other ways to make a difference, and even the smallest impact counts.</span></span></div>
Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6551318344612845679.post-27441408760684813532016-11-23T01:42:00.003-08:002017-02-12T02:15:43.688-08:00Growing Pains<h2>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: 18px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What is it about growing up makes me feel like I'm losing my sense of self?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I feel this strange combination of sadness and happiness both at once, and I don’t quite know how to explain it. It is bittersweet. It is the happiness of gratitude alongside the sadness of a nagging nostalgia. It is a longing for my childhood and for more
carefree times, or at least what I remember as being carefree times.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large; font-weight: normal;"> Youth really is wasted on the young.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4S8YjOEhYTnGpnsqFb0Po8fyVqsyqaE-yne_TY-pvhdcdQUqPLgTkwSBBUKd11YH7mLxgTTh7IUTua2Zs_D3il9PwEr9BaDpElik3GVmRNQ3ePjAPsTbc-jAVArcr0TuiaoNqnxU1Y2w/s1600/mini+me.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4S8YjOEhYTnGpnsqFb0Po8fyVqsyqaE-yne_TY-pvhdcdQUqPLgTkwSBBUKd11YH7mLxgTTh7IUTua2Zs_D3il9PwEr9BaDpElik3GVmRNQ3ePjAPsTbc-jAVArcr0TuiaoNqnxU1Y2w/s320/mini+me.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Mini-me in an era of carefree </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">times & unappreciated freedom</span></td></tr>
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: large;"> Growing up, I was worried about being too sheltered and not getting the freedom I thought I so rightly deserved. I felt the pangs of adolescence and trying to fit in, and trying to stand up for what I believed in without being disliked. I wanted so badly to be liked, to be ‘cool’. Maybe those teenage years weren’t the easiest of times either. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: 18px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">But looking back, I don’t remember those struggles, but <span style="color: #76a5af;"><b>I instead remember the freedom of having free time and having room in my life to breathe.</b></span> I remember reading for hours on end and being on vacation with my family. I remember journalling and listening to the radio. I remember looking forward to school and being extremely motivated to succeed. I remember exercising, and training, and enjoying the soreness of my muscles after a hard workout. And the thrill of competition and the strange safety of being stuck at the stadium all day - because track meets always started and finished late - but not really feeling stuck because I enjoyed the long, drawn-out hours of preparation. A chance to dive into my thoughts. To settle my emotions and prepare for the inevitable rush of nerves right before a race. And I remember the feeling afterwards, of accomplishment, of doing my best, of pushing my body to the limit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">Now, I barely find the time to break a sweat. <span style="color: #76a5af;"><b>Was I more disciplined back then? Or was it just easier? Or did I simply have more time?</b></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: 18px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">It saddens me to think that nowadays I feel like <i>I don't have the time to live the balanced, healthy lifestyle that I so desire.</i></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: 18px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">Back then, I crafted. I scrap-booked. I cut and pasted magazine snippets into my art journal and poured my thoughts out onto pages and pages of diary entries. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><span style="color: #76a5af; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I spent enough time alone and in my thoughts to be able to process and ponder my life.</span></b></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: 18px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">I miss being able to do that, and <b><span style="color: #76a5af;">I miss the person I was.</span></b></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzRLAbe0DsZfz0789Spi71J6JHyYrfnqIZ3XfFsnfqTavVlHqDSoD7fuMFsRi9JLzPvH-4WzOUaJFql-VWk86S1EI5rFiFtRmOqfhTnYseNkfUiYEagDWEYcx1fONfbaIZdBQ2g1SFajg/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-11-23+at+2.47.10+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzRLAbe0DsZfz0789Spi71J6JHyYrfnqIZ3XfFsnfqTavVlHqDSoD7fuMFsRi9JLzPvH-4WzOUaJFql-VWk86S1EI5rFiFtRmOqfhTnYseNkfUiYEagDWEYcx1fONfbaIZdBQ2g1SFajg/s320/Screen+Shot+2016-11-23+at+2.47.10+AM.png" width="245" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Form 3 mini-me spreadin' da love...was I <br />more optimistic back then?*</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">I don’t know if I was actually more optimistic then, or maybe there were more things to be optimistic about. I’d like to know when I started feeling things so deeply, or when my feelings started feeling so un-resolvable - feelings I cannot come to terms with, this constant, nagging dissatisfaction with myself that I don’t know how to remedy. Maybe back then there just weren’t as many things to feel deeply about. Or I felt things just as much but was better able to deal with them. <b><span style="color: #76a5af;">What is it about growing up that makes me feel like I’m losing my sense of self?</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">Maybe I am not actually losing my sense of self. Maybe I am finding myself, bit by bit, piece by piece, but in order to find myself I have to lose a lot of the old pieces of me. <b><span style="color: #76a5af;">Maybe I have outgrown parts of myself and need to shed that old skin to enter into who I’m meant to be.</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: large;"> I read somewhere recently that God breaks us down in order to build us back up. That is what it feels like; I am being broken down into my constituent parts. My talents and flaws, strengths and weaknesses, skills and insecurities, these long-embedded pieces of me…they are rising to the surface, and are laid out before me like pieces of a puzzle, painting a not-so-pretty picture, but it’s time to pick and choose the pieces I leave behind and the ones to carry with me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">Maybe this is not the first difficult transition into myself that I will endure. Maybe life continues to change you so that you’re never quite who you want to be, but always changing out of the old and into the new and striving to be who you <i>wish</i> to be. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">It’s a lot to think about. I’m not quite sure I’ve gotten the hang of this ‘growing up’ thing yet. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><b><span style="color: #76a5af; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am constantly trying to improve myself while simultaneously trying to be the best that I can be. Maybe those two are not mutually exclusive?</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">I <i>want</i> to be doing my best, but feel like I’m constantly falling short. But it is always on my mind, it is always my goal, and maybe the fact that I am constantly <i>striving </i>to be my best means that I <i>am </i>being my best self? I’d like to think so.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">I’m reminiscing about the past, and pondering the present, but naturally I’m thinking about my future, too. And what I’m going to do with my life. And wondering if I have it in me to work hard towards achieving my dreams, when I am already so tired and drained from uni-life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">Since when did I become so insecure and doubtful of my abilities? I lived my entire life believing that I would do my best at whatever I attempted, and that I’d be successful in the end. But now I am having a hard time even defining success or figuring out what it is I want to work hard at. Or wondering if I’m good enough to ‘make it’ in the world. Stanford is making me feel like the bottom of the barrel. I wonder what about me stands out that would make employers want to hire <i>me </i>over anyone else. Little me, who is now learning to take baby steps outside her comfort zone.<b> <span style="color: #76a5af;">Little me, who feels the burden of growth and its accompanying failures as sharply as though they were broken bones mending beneath my skin.</span></b><span style="color: #76a5af;"> </span>Little me who loves routine so much that the constant changes of college are curveballs that I’m barely managing to avoid. In fact, I am not avoiding them. They are hitting me straight in the face and forcing me to come to terms with who I am.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">Little me who is still a perfectionist, and still wants to get everything right. Every. Single. Thing. As if I could control every aspect of my life. Little me who doubts even the smallest things that she does. Who’d rather be explicitly instructed on what to do than decide on my own and make a mistake.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">I know right about now my mom would tell me to change my language. I should stop saying ‘little me’. I am not little, I am grand! I am going to do great things in this world. I am going to change lives. Even if it is just the lives of those immediately around me. This is what I’ve always believed, and what I need to remind myself of now more than ever.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">I suppose I am just stuck in this super-transitional phase, and I’m finally learning that it is okay to feel things. I do not have to have nerves of steel 24/7. It’s okay to be unsure, or afraid. In fact, pushing forward despite these feelings is real strength, isn’t it?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">It just bothers me that I miss the person I was growing up.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: 18px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #76a5af;"><b>Do I want to go back in time? Not really. Rather, sometimes I wish to skip these transitional years and fast-forward to the older, surer, more settled version of myself. The older-me who has a family, and a career, and stability, blessed stability.</b> </span>But I stop these thoughts in their tracks - I know it is better to live in the moment, to <i>be present.</i> Later, I would probably look back at these college years and wish for the freedom I have now.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none; font-size: large;">Ah, youth is <i>truly </i>wasted on the young.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: 18px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I think the difficulty is simply that I see the person I want to be - this balanced, well-rounded, healthy individual living to her fullest potential and positively impacting the world around her - but she has not yet emerged. I don’t want to just </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">be</i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">, I want to </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">become.</i></span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><b><span style="color: #45818e; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But maybe it’s time for me to see the beauty in the becoming, and all the imperfections and mistakes that come along with it.</span></b></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">*PC to Christina S for this pic</span></div>
Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6551318344612845679.post-63856380360777374892016-10-29T14:19:00.000-07:002017-02-12T01:59:54.877-08:00A Conversation with President Hennessy <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; line-height: normal; text-align: justify; text-indent: 18px;">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>A Tribute to Stanford's Last President</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">I met with President Hennessy last quarter,</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">in his office,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">one-on-one,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">and we had the most fruitful, open conversation. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUKX6RnQUx747yOlKkXOwzOLkp11TFB-zAUwmhgQuOsNHZDLKEu5tK0BoJHmbnVboWcVVf7x4UQ0suJ3XYkmpT3Lqfa36TOQQouzL6WMSxBk4sBuJTMa9Rwil1bNFGaUWLy9EPERvhAqI/s1600/IMG_4293.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUKX6RnQUx747yOlKkXOwzOLkp11TFB-zAUwmhgQuOsNHZDLKEu5tK0BoJHmbnVboWcVVf7x4UQ0suJ3XYkmpT3Lqfa36TOQQouzL6WMSxBk4sBuJTMa9Rwil1bNFGaUWLy9EPERvhAqI/s400/IMG_4293.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Entrance to the Office of the President, at the Main Quad.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">How exciting!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">It was great, really! Meeting with the President of Stanford University is something I’d never considered myself able to do. Even as I sit here, on Stanford’s campus, within biking distance of the President’s Office and just an email away from making contact with our President. These things just never occurred to me. My mom had the idea - she told me that I <i>must </i>meet with President Hennessy before he leaves. Somehow, probably even before I knew, my mom knew it was his last year as President, and she immediately caught this as an opportunity for me to have a </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">discussion with him. She told me “President Hennessy says he loves interacting with students!” How did she even know this? I swear, my mom keeps closer tabs on Stanford than I do. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmmxMKjDrNK4oDm5UdyirAu310s7ciLopK3FjyQNb7oupjpeHU2_fFr0B-IqTEYAZwqo5GsR_YQHcvyl5l2tXuIaxVXUhmLthS-yuHg4CT6bASk2y2K2s7Ypqavcjh_SC8yWu4pPhIZlQ/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-09-23+at+4.14.09+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmmxMKjDrNK4oDm5UdyirAu310s7ciLopK3FjyQNb7oupjpeHU2_fFr0B-IqTEYAZwqo5GsR_YQHcvyl5l2tXuIaxVXUhmLthS-yuHg4CT6bASk2y2K2s7Ypqavcjh_SC8yWu4pPhIZlQ/s200/Screen+Shot+2016-09-23+at+4.14.09+PM.png" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">My mom keeps close tabs on Stanford,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">and insisted that I meet with the outgoing</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">President!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So thanks, Mummy, for thinking of this. Because once you planted the idea in my head, I decided that this was something I wanted to do as well. Getting into Stanford? Not free. Getting insights from someone who’s been at Stanford for more years than I’ve been alive? Not just free, but priceless. Indeed, President Hennessy was one well-worded email away. And after I’d bridged that gap, I found myself sitting on a plush chair in his office, notebook in hand, questions waiting to spill from the tip of my tongue. The next moment we were shaking hands and Hennessy, the Obama of Stanford, was calling me by name and asking me to tell him a little bit about myself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What could I say?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I gave him my age-old spiel about writing being my childhood dream, which started to wane as I got older because of doubts and the concern about having a “practical” job - one with which I could “support myself”. I’d bought into the idea of having a “stable career” and doing writing as a thing “on the side” and this was my mentality coming into Stanford. Right now, however, this quarter, I wasn’t so sure. I made myself go back to the drawing board. I need to get back in touch with my dream. Why was I doing Chemistry again? </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But this isn’t about me.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What did our President have to say? What could possibly come out of almost an hour of chatting and exchanging stories and wisdom? Just the realest pieces of advice ever, from a real person. His name might be President right now, but he had dreams growing up just like the rest of us.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“I wanted to be an engineer,” Hennessy responded when I asked about his childhood dreams. “I always liked building things.” But I was curious: did he always dream of one day being at the helm of such an institution?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Apparently, it was only as an undergrad in university that President Hennessy discovered his interest in teaching, and research, and this sparked his desire to become a faculty member. And this is exactly what he did. His path led him to become a faculty member here, at Stanford, and after teaching for many years, he rose to the ranks of Provost and eventually President. Sadly, since he’s been President, he’s only been able to teach a couple of times and admitted that he misses teaching, and yearns to go back to it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So there I was, trying to discover the man behind the name “President” and of course, I wanted to know, the typical question asked of highly successful people: what did it take to reach where he reached? (I mean, <a href="http://hennessy.stanford.edu/biography/" target="_blank">read his bio online</a>, and you’ll see just how distinguished, accomplished and accoladed our President is).</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I bet you guessed it: Work, work, work, work, work, work - call me Rihanna, call it cliche, but this is the one word echoed by many a successful person. President Hennessy’s response was no exception:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Lots of hard work. But,” he adds, “I enjoyed most of it."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Enjoy? Work? Are those two words ever allowed to be in the same sentence? According to Hennessy they can, and they should.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“You have to love what you do, and be passionate about it,” he told me later on, and:</span></span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>“I think that if you’re not doing something you’re passionate about, you won’t be able to muster the enthusiasm and excitement necessary to be successful.”</b></span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Not the first time I’ve heard this, I admit. But coming from someone who seems to be the epitome of success, and clearly loves what he does, and says so with such conviction…it’s a different story. It is a reassurance that yes, I’m doing the right thing by <a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2016/09/should-i-become-doctor.html" target="_blank">ditching pre-med requirements</a> (which I never wanted anyway) to discover my creative side, my writing side (my true passion from childhood).</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I went on to ask him about what he hopes for Stanford students after<i> </i>they leave the bubble. It’s simple really:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>“Enjoy whatever you do, and make an impact.”</b></span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Right in line with Stanford’s unsaid philosophy I think. I mean, a lot of people around me seem to be going for just that: something that they enjoy, and something that’s going to make some kind of difference in a world that needs fixing. But sometimes it feels like these philosophies conflict, especially when you factor in the need to support yourself, and your family. And then there’s the hard work that it would take. I’m sure we’ve all witnessed or experienced the pre-med struggle (<a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2016/09/should-i-become-doctor.html" target="_blank">you want to become a doctor, but you hate chemistry. Is it worth it?</a>) or <a href="http://astridcasimire.blogspot.com/2016/09/your-elusive-creative-genius-elizabeth.html" target="_blank">the artists’ struggle</a> (I love my craft, but the process is grueling…yet there’s that satisfaction when I’ve completed the project. Is it worth it?) or just the struggle of being an ambitious human being. You want what you want, but the tedious work involved makes you question whether or not it’s worth it. And so, I wanted to know: when the days are long and the work is hard and you can’t find happiness in what you do, when is it no longer worth it to pursue?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I considered this a tough question, and expected a complicated answer, but President Hennessy is not fazed and didn’t even hesitate before he responded:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Have you watched <a href="http://news.stanford.edu/2005/06/14/jobs-061505/" target="_blank">Steve Jobs' commencement address</a>?” - I nodded. I’m pretty sure I’d stumbled across it on YouTube as I Stanford-stalked the summer before freshman year. Or maybe I’d seen the TedTalk? Anyway, President Hennessy recalled when Steve Jobs said this:</span></span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><b>"...I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: 'If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?' And whenever the answer has been 'No' for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something."</b></span> </span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I nodded my head in reflective agreement. This was gold. And so simple, too. Maybe success comes with finding simple answers to complicated questions. I suppose things aren’t always as hard as we imagine them to be.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">President Hennessy’s own thoughts on the matter are similar: “When the drudgery outweighs the feeling of excitement and accomplishment, then it may not be worth it anymore. Life’s too short!” </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Indeed! And speaking of life, I wanted to know what a typical day was like in the life of the President of Stanford University. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">President Hennessy wakes up at 5:30am (!), and works out (!) and reads the paper. After that, his day can be any combinations of meetings, talks and office time. He usually travels for a couple days per month, but the rest of the time, he’s here, on campus, doing Presidential things to keep this place running.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But let’s backtrack for a bit. President Hennessy said he <i>works out. </i>How does the President have time to work out? <i>I </i>don’t even have time to work out, and I’m but a mere student. It’s refreshing to hear though, because if the President can find time to work out, then so can I if I really wanted to. Taking breaks from work? Takes time. Taking care of yourself? Priceless.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Like they say: ‘Work hard, play hard’. But you have to actually do <i>both,” </i>Hennessy clarified. Indeed, it’s easy to get carried away with the “work hard” part and forget to actually relax, but we should: </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b style="background-color: white;">“Take time to do things that restore you."</b></span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As President, he doesn’t get to take many breaks (I mean, you can never really take a break from being Stanford’s President. Like Hennessy said, “the job follows you”) but he does get the opportunity to travel relatively often, which he enjoys, in addition to reading and paying golf. Personal fitness is, evidently, a presidential priority. Which makes sense. What makes us think that our bodies are invincible? We’re not doing ourselves any favors when we’re lacking sleep, eating badly, never exercising, and overworking - but somehow, we think we can do all this, and still be on our game. It’s at trap I feel the need to crawl out of. After all, success like this isn’t worth my mental health.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But then again.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Success. It’s relative, it’s subjective. Success means different things to different people in different places. At Stanford, though, I feel like success is easily seen as involvement and accomplishment in the widest array of things. A “successful” Stanford student is the best of not just both worlds, but of <i>all </i>worlds - they can do and manage <i>everything</i> on their plate while keeping a smile on their face. Their resumes are enriched, but their experiences? Not so much. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This is hard to swallow when we all have such varied interests and are tempted to try everything. And we all know that Stanford lacks nothing the when it comes to new opportunities and ways to engage - they’re laid out before us like a buffet; who wouldn’t want a little taste of everything?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Dabbling in different things is great,” President Hennessy comments when it comes to exploring your interests. “But in the end...</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>"...it’s better to be deeply committed to a few things than superficially involved in many.”</b></span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This will never be easy to accept, and that feeling of “not doing enough” seems to always plague us, when we’re surrounded by people who always seem to be doing and being so much more. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And this is one of the biggest challenges students here face.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Students go from being extremely high achievers who stood out in high school, to a place where everyone’s a high achiever,” President Hennessy explains when I asked about student challenges.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It reminded me of the Fish-in-Pond Syndrome. In high school, we’re big fish in a little pond. But we arrive at Stanford, and suddenly we’re little fish in a really big pond and it’s hard to always remember your worth when everyone seems so much bigger than you.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Our President offers one word of advice to get through this: <i>Resilience</i>.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Resilience, huh.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It’s probably what got the President through hard times as well. He described for me one of the biggest challenges he faced on the job: Years ago, when the economy had taken its downward turn, Stanford’s endowment was drastically reduced by billions. Drastic times call for drastic measures. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“There were hard decisions to be made,” Hennessy laments, “We had to rally the troops and make the necessary cut backs.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">He emphasized that something had to be done. Hennessy recognized that this was not to be taken lightly, and he acted accordingly. Having to deliver some “tough messages”, Hennessy admitted earlier, was indeed a challenge within his occupation. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But even amidst such challenges, Hennessy has no major regrets about where he is and the path he took to reach here. Maybe another thing to note about successful people: they don’t seem to have regrets. Maybe because they’ve long learnt how to view regret as valuable, as a learning experience, and as having an integral role in their achievements.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There are, however, skills that he’d wished he’d learned earlier.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Before I was President,” Hennessy reflected, “I was an engineer, and I’d give many talks - but they all used slides. I was so used to giving talks with slides. As President, I had to learn to give speeches and talks with no slides, and this is a very different skill. Look at Obama, have you seen him speak? He’s a natural. It’s a hard skill to develop, and one I wish I’d developed earlier.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I suppose then that PWR2 (Program in Writing & Rhetoric Part 2) is Stanford’s way of preparing us for the world. But how else does Stanford prepare us for the world?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“I think the most important thing you learn here isn’t specific knowledge,” Hennessy remarks, “but how to express yourself well, how to relate to people, and how to interact with people of varying backgrounds, which are important skills in the world beyond.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So what’s next for our esteemed President? </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-kerning: none;">He’ll be sticking around at Stanford for a while, managing the new scholarship program that I’m sure you may have heard of: the <a href="http://news.stanford.edu/2016/02/23/scholars-program-announce-022316/" target="_blank">Knight-Hennessy Scholars Program</a>.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“I’d like to go back to teaching, as well, before I retire,” Hennessy adds, “because I miss it.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Maybe this is it, the mark of true success and a life well lived: when you love what you do so much, that you want to continue doing it, even after years and years of working hard.</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Decades from now, I’d like to be able to say the same. </span></span></div>
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Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6551318344612845679.post-36547438111839429552016-10-13T07:47:00.000-07:002017-11-28T02:00:33.975-08:00The Great Unsettling of Sophomore Year<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b> My second year at Stanford is in full swing, and I’m feeling more unsettled than ever. In fact, I’m outright <i>struggling </i>to feel at peace here.</b></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It comes as a shock to me more than anything, because I thought that surely, after weathering the ups and downs of freshman year, I’d be well-adjusted and ready to tackle sophomore year like a boss, without a hitch. I’d hit the ground running and stay running for the entire year because I had so much energy and excitement building up in me after three months of rejuvenation and spirit-restoration back in sweet T&T.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Wrong.</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>So, so wrong.</b></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjID3U2DhTvMdKssex5GH6Gg8U35sJbEvPmSej04vdMD6EQvebL0Eb3_XxShyJWj84QoZyB78uSdnjMkC1XOSwIlBuzsqZSvawIKIpYpyjKrXi5eJckK1RZJPpCOF9_jIE5J5NcvgtSlmM/s1600/IMG_4297.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjID3U2DhTvMdKssex5GH6Gg8U35sJbEvPmSej04vdMD6EQvebL0Eb3_XxShyJWj84QoZyB78uSdnjMkC1XOSwIlBuzsqZSvawIKIpYpyjKrXi5eJckK1RZJPpCOF9_jIE5J5NcvgtSlmM/s320/IMG_4297.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Nothing is as picture-perfect as it seems</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Like I said, this year I find it harder than ever to settle down and feel at home. And as I try to pinpoint the reason, I’m running into all kinds of contradictions. Because I have every reason to be oh-so-happy, but, frankly, I’m just <i>not.</i> Let me tell you why.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I thought, <i>Wow, I’ve got a new dorm + a bigger room + enough space for a couch (s/o to Toyon’s 2-room double) + an awesome roommate! </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I thought, <i>Hey, my class schedule is on point: HumBio Core (which I’m excited about despite its reputation for being difficult) + Spanish + Creative Writing = the perfect mix of classes that slot right in with my academic interests.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I thought, <i>Gee I have this perfect extracurricular mix of things that I enjoy and things that are important to me.</i></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">I thought, </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">Wowza, I can’t wait to reconnect with old friends + establish new relationships with dormmates, classmates & clubmates. How fulfilling!</i></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And don’t get me wrong, these have all been positives of sophomore year so far.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">In fact, in theory, I felt like I had the perfect formula for navigating sophomore year successfully. I thought, <i>I have so much going for me right now; that darn sophomore slump won't get to me, that's for sure. </i>But no matter how many why-I-love-sophomore-year lists I make, or schedules I do to organize my day, or efforts I put out to stay engaged, I <i>cannot</i> force myself to feel fulfilled and settled. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>In reality, a perfect theoretical formula doesn’t guarantee smooth sailing </b></span><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>at all.</b></span> </i><span style="font-size: large;">Because we’re human. We’re complicated. Emotions get in the way. Not everything can be explained by theory.</span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBBv9SsVrUBflsxP_bxYmA7AdgT67vw4kAss-on4gqHNMClkife1iXDV_3gQ_kmPfxC5ls8RkBXLOoaJiRzjtUCvWgW3TtSTb0jXwcLRgra93uRTxsxCvhohe2-25R9UiufiOLntGig7U/s1600/IMG_4291.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBBv9SsVrUBflsxP_bxYmA7AdgT67vw4kAss-on4gqHNMClkife1iXDV_3gQ_kmPfxC5ls8RkBXLOoaJiRzjtUCvWgW3TtSTb0jXwcLRgra93uRTxsxCvhohe2-25R9UiufiOLntGig7U/s320/IMG_4291.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">¡Qué bonita!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>In reality,</b></span></span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b> I set my expectations way too high and was sorely disappointed to find out that being back at Stanford just isn’t as exciting as it was Freshman year</b></span><span style="font-size: large;"> (this is so hard to admit, </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">because</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: large;"> I </span><span style="font-size: large;">believe</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="font-size: large;"> high expectations = high standards. But it's to be expected though, right? Everything’s not new and invigorating anymore. Why did I think it would be?). I don’t understand it, because Stanford is a </span></span></span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">fantastic</span></i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="font-size: large;"> place in so many ways - we’ve got a beautiful, sprawling campus, </span></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">perfect weather, great infrastructure, the most interdisciplinary classes, excellent and supportive programming, spirited student life, endless ways to engage, and even as I appreciate every moment that I’m here, I just can’t force feelings of excitement.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>In reality, I’m learning that I can’t force myself to feel any kind of way, period.</b></span><span style="font-size: large;"> No matter how excited, settled, and comfortable I <i>should </i>feel, I’ve long learned that <i>unlike our expectations, feelings are something we cannot really control.</i> They’re <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JmcA9LIIXWw" target="_blank">karma-karma-karma-karma-karma chameleons</a> - they come and go, they come and gooooo. They change with the wind. But we <i>can</i> control our reactions and responses to our feelings. And that's what matters. So the faster you accept and acknowledge feelings for what they are (what I’m trying to do now), the better equipped you are to work through them. </span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVD3JL3cQmXaDc2GGkvsk_sg_XUXsCQlfOCkDgdTzzrKcQfDzN0B1MPhZjtLwbm4y4hkELQxJ27eKyuZ6qXZM5c6lD2Y98NSwZZYsQ8-tp2Es3iYvxc480iYJDIhRKQPAmNkSX_U6M-ao/s1600/IMG_4262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVD3JL3cQmXaDc2GGkvsk_sg_XUXsCQlfOCkDgdTzzrKcQfDzN0B1MPhZjtLwbm4y4hkELQxJ27eKyuZ6qXZM5c6lD2Y98NSwZZYsQ8-tp2Es3iYvxc480iYJDIhRKQPAmNkSX_U6M-ao/s320/IMG_4262.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">View at IAH. Love being in transit but<br />airports = ew.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>In reality,</b> <b>I can’t shake this uneasy feeling of being not quite at home here yet.</b></span><span style="font-size: large;"> It's the same out-of-place uneasiness I always feel in unfamiliar hotel rooms, airports and new places. After establishing a somewhat-solid routine in Trancos (my freshman dorm), I’m thrown into this completely </span></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">different setting and I’ve gotta find a new routine that works for me. This takes time - time that I </span><i style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;">don’t have </span></i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">because we’re already 3 weeks in and I’m just going with the motions, mentally sprinting to keep up with this crazy quarter-system pace, with no real routine in place.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b>In reality, all these constant changes are throwing me the heck off</b></span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"> - I’m just ready to settle into my life, and college isn’t giving me the chance to do that. But I’d just as soon admit that it’s these changes that are going to make me grow and learn <i>the most</i>, and I know I’ll finish college a much better, stronger person than I was.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">In reality, I’m constantly shifting between having it together and completely falling apart.</span></b><span style="font-size: large;"> I’ve managed to be in bed by 11PM one night in order to wake up early the next morning to work (a system that works really well, what the heck!). But two days later, I’ve also managed to stay up until 3AM, swamped with work and little motivation, and wallowing in what a rough night it had become. I go from one extreme to the next in more ways than one - like Rihanna so eloquently sang: it’s 0 to 60 in 3.5. For instance, tonight started off </span><i style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;">so</span></i><span style="font-size: large;"> well - we had the first Calypso practice with our new </span><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; font-size: x-large; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizAzzzKNkRQLvujS4tgorGTRRwwBDMMSlrC8S3fV2ePAnSSsuBLQ6Aa3ngGwwlJF64pFPn6_mIKAiyV2UAZF8YHT0VEsOSeB7WfDpYViOMa45FA7ZCMyzwD7WaBJctXuRZWNf4owxTcrc/s1600/IMG_4396.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizAzzzKNkRQLvujS4tgorGTRRwwBDMMSlrC8S3fV2ePAnSSsuBLQ6Aa3ngGwwlJF64pFPn6_mIKAiyV2UAZF8YHT0VEsOSeB7WfDpYViOMa45FA7ZCMyzwD7WaBJctXuRZWNf4owxTcrc/s320/IMG_4396.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Connor and the BBZ (new members)!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">members which was great, so great. The excitement was tangible, and I remembered how heartwarming and beautiful it is to share music, especially the steelpan, with others. I left there on a high, and a few hours later, sitting in front of my laptop contemplating things, I hit another low which prompted me to write this post. All in a day’s work, ya?</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">In reality, I’m barely<i> </i>keeping up with my schoolwork, no matter how many plans I make to stay on top of it.</span></b><span style="font-size: large;"> Everyday I pledge to catch up on my HumBio reading, and everyday </span><i style="font-size: x-large;">time simply runs out.</i><span style="font-size: large;"> At this point I don’t know where to draw the line between idealistic and delusional because there are just not enough hours in the day, and time is running away from me, and I don’t know if I should settle for this constant hustling to keep up or if I’m actually too busy and need to do some serious intervention on my schedule.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b>In reality, these constant ups and downs affect my health and sometimes I feel so out of control.</b></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"> I binge and stress eat. I stay up late without cause. I’m constantly sleep-deprived and occasionally too exhausted to stick to my commitments. My immune system went down a bit and I’m fighting a cold of some sort right now. I’m breaking out every single week and feel the urge to hide my face in public because it’s a constant reminder of the ongoing distresses I feel. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b>In reality, I miss my room back home and having my own space.</b></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"> Throwing it back to high school, I was perfectly content with seeing my friends in class, and liming outside of school a few times per quarter. I had a great routine of going to classes, then training, then returning home to work at night in the comfort of my own home, and my own space, resting assured that I could 100% be myself because I was around the people who knew me best and accepted me for all my flaws, grumpy moods and shortcomings (shoutout to my family back home!).<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij6q2x0FWqd45j1VC7lDemumCnb1nKz2afiXY_gYn4H54GiAZ9qJpazKgjvNSvTViKBe4MRRqGDnCB1wh8VlEXkmJZUvur4v9uHOwoK8jq6nsjWozchIKjSQua3B0bxzjtdAyT9je4Y2c/s1600/IMG_4241.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij6q2x0FWqd45j1VC7lDemumCnb1nKz2afiXY_gYn4H54GiAZ9qJpazKgjvNSvTViKBe4MRRqGDnCB1wh8VlEXkmJZUvur4v9uHOwoK8jq6nsjWozchIKjSQua3B0bxzjtdAyT9je4Y2c/s320/IMG_4241.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">S/o to my family for putting up with me <3</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But guess what? College is <i>not</i> high school (surprise, surprise)! From the living situation (having a roommate + living in a dorm + being surrounded by other students 24/7) to classes (I swear every class requires collaboration and sometimes I'm just <i>not down), </i>there is no way to escape the fact that college is a social experience as much as an academic one. Something, as an <a href="http://introvertspring.com/what-is-an-introvert/" target="_blank">introvert</a>, I’m still learning to navigate. I’m caught between <i>“I wanna meet new people!”</i> and <i>“No new friends, no no new”</i>, wondering how much effort to put into expanding my circle or instead keeping it small and strengthening current relationships.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b>In reality, although I don’t feel 100% at home here, I don’t know if I’d rather be back in Trinidad, either.</b></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> Because despite everything, Stanford is my life’s default state now. Being a student is my occupation. I’m here for my education and home (Trinidad) just doesn’t mean the same thing anymore - although it is where my heart is because it's where my family is, </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">it’s no longer my default place, but more of a temporary resting spot</span></span></span></span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"> between aca</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit;">demic years. </span><a href="http://thetab.com/us/stanford/2016/02/07/filed-home-sweet-home-thought-36" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">So if here isn’t home, and home isn’t home, where is? (An idea I've been grappling with since my first visit back home from school for </span></span>Christmas<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> Break last year</span></span></a></span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><a href="http://thetab.com/us/stanford/2016/02/07/filed-home-sweet-home-thought-36" target="_blank">)</a>.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGVA_87clXAdOxtA60o_ZkViUEMRU_5TLULbL9Ru98WtAeayGxcw5KW6_R44RG5EcBxda4aqoHNNhbY4XVgOpTDcIx0bkXeCG_0FnuG1Mt5DYBAlNe6hS9xS56ZXAK4D3442tuv3H17FY/s1600/IMG_6062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGVA_87clXAdOxtA60o_ZkViUEMRU_5TLULbL9Ru98WtAeayGxcw5KW6_R44RG5EcBxda4aqoHNNhbY4XVgOpTDcIx0bkXeCG_0FnuG1Mt5DYBAlNe6hS9xS56ZXAK4D3442tuv3H17FY/s400/IMG_6062.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Pic of me freshman year feeling at home at Stanford, yea?<br />A picture may speak a thousand words, but it may not always<br />tell the truth</span>.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b>In reality, I constantly contradict myself</b></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"> because although I socially feel the need for more space, I’m also discovering that it is the people around me who make me feel like I belong the most. It is going to Calypso practice and just feeling completely at ease with the instrument and with my band-mates. It is going on a CSA retreat and feeling like I can finally be myself because I could relate to everyone on a cultural level. It is going to the 10PM mass and sharing my faith in solidarity with others. It is having a roommate that smiles when I walk into the room and reminds me to not be too hard on myself because just being here at college is an accomplishment (direct quote from the Debz! Simple but true!). It is knowing that there are friends I can call, text or meet up with if I ever need to talk.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxSz2UGVdsYCyJN7AugWfuulzQk99K21hxOY_SehSun_NO6XOGjJASJG7CafEKOz7luguKPCQ6ZTZr2YDfpl96LBa8IgzukgQCNyCabd2rtz7Jmp2_-pRUjVYheLcwfwG8nS8ZTiex9xc/s1600/FullSizeRender+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxSz2UGVdsYCyJN7AugWfuulzQk99K21hxOY_SehSun_NO6XOGjJASJG7CafEKOz7luguKPCQ6ZTZr2YDfpl96LBa8IgzukgQCNyCabd2rtz7Jmp2_-pRUjVYheLcwfwG8nS8ZTiex9xc/s320/FullSizeRender+2.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Trini-love!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b>In reality, these contradictions make me feel like a phony, although I know I’m anything but.</b></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"> I think that to be without contradictions, is to lack humanity, because nobody is perfect, and we all contradict ourselves in one way or the other. But that’s <i>a-okay </i>because perfect internal harmony is hard to come by. Maybe that’s why this quote struck me when I first heard it:</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none; background-color: white;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>“Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony." - Gandhi</b></span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Because I strive for that kind of harmony and happiness, but never quite reach it because I can’t really shake these contradictions.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">I think the biggest truth of all comes to me now that I’ve let this all out<span style="background-color: white;">: </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b style="background-color: white;">I’m struggling here, and that’s okay.</b></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"> </span>It’s all part of the experience. Yes, I <i>aim</i> to have a routine, to go to sleep early and eat well and exercise, but <i>it’s okay</i> if that doesn’t always work out. I keep on trying, and that’s important. Yes, I never <i>actually</i> made it to my bed tonight (just knocked out on the couch for a couple hours) and it’s now almost 6am, but <i>it’s okay</i> because I’m going to do my Spanish homework and prepare for classes tomorrow (today) so that I can start afresh.</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Here is something I’ve told myself a million times in the past, but I’m only now starting to believe it: </span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>It’s okay to not be okay.</b></span></span></h2>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6OQTU7K3yCalT2cc4rkBRRAE3wTFRI8RU_rJJK0HSnTeUHb7MlZDuR54MxQ7NdH9VvPnO3ErP-Bh3dHp-YyauheviDnFty9m9EMVroPZNn-70RsJgeAVMfexKJUkbrrF9Je8MVDxp0Bo/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-10-13+at+7.43.15+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6OQTU7K3yCalT2cc4rkBRRAE3wTFRI8RU_rJJK0HSnTeUHb7MlZDuR54MxQ7NdH9VvPnO3ErP-Bh3dHp-YyauheviDnFty9m9EMVroPZNn-70RsJgeAVMfexKJUkbrrF9Je8MVDxp0Bo/s320/Screen+Shot+2016-10-13+at+7.43.15+AM.png" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">This note to myself from freshman year remains on<br />my laptop's dashboard today!</span></td></tr>
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</b></span></span></h2>
Astrid Casimirehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14065626292955691111noreply@blogger.com