A talk on the phone with Mom inevitably begins with asking for money. It’s not that I’m short on money, quite the opposite in fact for a college student, I just didn’t have enough money on my debit card in this instant to buy an online textbook. Plus, I need that money for weed. After the exchange of financial information, the conversation turns to more motherly things, because mine is the stereotypical Jewish mother, and we’re not even Jewish.
The hippies have got me. I’m writing this between shoving batches of kale chips into the oven, with an edition of Adbusters open at my side. I haven’t written on this blog in weeks, and since this seems to be a developing pattern, I think I’ll stop apologizing for it now. In nine days, I will be arrive at college, the fabled land beyond the misty mountains and pine trees that as of now, remains solidly in the world of fantasy. That’s nine days before this blog changes from a home for my off-color complaints and criticisms of a small town, to my off-color complaints and criticisms of a large city and school. So I will now join the ranks of the college bloggers (perhaps the flakiest variety). I’ll be complaining about shaving in communal bathrooms while 34% of the population doesn’t get to attend university at all. It’s good to maintain a perspective. Continue reading
Okay so I haven’t written on this blog in a very long time. Roughly a month and half. Whoopsies. In this post, I will try to make excuses.
1) I was too busy graduating high school. Because graduation was soooo difficult, especially seeing as I only took five classes this semester, three of which were in project mode (this means freetime), and one of the remaining two being choir. I certainly didn’t use this project-making time to have lunch at nice restaurants in the city. I was busy working so that I could be a graduate. Continue reading
I don’t feel like thinking about the daily prompt. So here’s a boring transcription of my routine on Tuesdays:
1) wake up, agonize over the futility of life as I realize that my alarm has fallen underneath my bed, and I have to get out to press snooze
2) drag dog with me into the main house
3) put cloth on myself, contemplate going to school nude Continue reading
Ya gurl gunna partay at prom! Limos and dresses and underage drinking like there’s no tomorrow, amiright?
Except I’m not. Frequently asked questions:
Do you have a date?
No, because I don’t need no man. Feminism, girl power, personal self worth and shit. Actually, though, it is my dear belief that the only reason girls take dates to prom is because our dresses don’t have pockets, whereas suits do. Like seriously, I checked my jacket–the only thing I was wearing with pockets–at the coat check last year, and they gave me a little slip with my number on it. I was like, “wait, what am I supposed to do with this, though? I have nowhere to put it.” But had I had a date, I would’ve just given it to him. Boys aren’t the commodity here, pockets are. That’s right, men, if you had a date at prom, she did not actually like you. She did, however, want to fuck your pockets. Continue reading
It astonishes me how easily I could have gone through high school without encountering any sort of influential adult. Plenty of students suffer through a string of mediocre teachers, learning writing rules and math formulas that never translate into real life. I could have easily been one of them. I could have continued at my K-12 charter school and never set foot on my high school’s campus. The school computers could have made my schedule slightly different. And I never would have met my english teacher, who has had the most influence on me, more than any other person, ever. Continue reading
I recently read an article in The Washington Post about the impending changes coming to the SAT. I highly recommend the article to anyone interested in our higher education system. It’s an interesting glimpse into the imperfect systems that decide who goes on into college, and it only scratches the surface. As a high school senior, I cheered when I read it. For the last year, I’ve been surrounded by students with vocabulary study cards, and upper-middle class SAT study course advertisements. My school’s newspaper, for instance, is partially funded by advertisements, and the most prominent one is for a tutoring company that promises happy students and high scores (the two are obviously correlated, *eyeroll*). For the last year, I would have never-ending, circular conversations with my peers about our scores, enter another class, and begin the comparisons again. And then I really began to think about the SAT and what it was measuring. There’s a movement among some colleges and students that “SAT scores don’t matter”. It’s similar to the “true beauty comes in all sizes” movement among plus-sized (this means average) women. And it has truth to it. Continue reading