Making Lemon Souffle

Topic: Dolled up.

I don’t think I ever received the memo about “effortless perfection.” At least not about clothing. I’ve heard it mentioned maybe once or twice, but I never gave it serious thought until now. I have, however, noticed that unlike other campuses that I’ve visited, Williams surprisingly dresses very casually.

It’s incredibly peculiar for me - as someone who hails from the West Coast, I grew up thinking that the East Coast fostered a culture of sophistication and classic elegance. And it’s true that the East Coast does give this certain aura - but at Williams it is more understated than anywhere else I’ve seen. I suppose it could just be that the community here is more humble - we don’t openly brag about our individual achievements, we don’t show off if we don’t have to. These qualities, undoubtedly, are highly commendable and which I take great pride in Williams for.

But I’m disturbed by how this credo translates into the way people feel about their personal appearance. While talking with a friend during dinner yesterday, I learned that some people don’t dare dress up because they don’t want to look like they’re trying too hard.

I was stunned. Really stunned. Like beyond stunned.

Was that how some people really felt about dressing up here? When did dressing well ever mean that you are an artificial person? Why don’t some people feel confident enough to dress up here? WHAT HAPPENED?!

I suppose it came as a real shock to me because I love dressing up. When I wear a put together outfit, I feel more confident and sexy. My posture naturally straightens and I smile a lot more. I don’t need someone to tell me that I’m gorgeous or beautiful or amazing because I can feel it to my bones that I am all these things. And that’s incredibly important to me because I feel that as a girl, sometimes you don’t believe in yourself enough. You question yourself - am I good enough? Can I be loved? Am I anything? And it’s so sad - you let yourself be swept off your feet by any sleazeball who tells you that you are the most wonderful person in the world because you won’t believe that about yourself.

I think dressing up can be empowering. It’s telling the world that you feel beautiful and that you care enough about your body to take care of it. Of course, this philosophy can always be taken too far. But I’m talking about moderation - you don’t need to look like you just escaped from the runway. Anyways, the point is that I think it’s sad the Williams culture discourages people who want to dress up. It’d be nice if people would finally realize that you can be smart, profound, thoughtful, and human even if you dress up. Besides, as far as I’m concerned, you might as well flaunt it while you’ve got it (to paraphrase Ulla from The Producers). 

I don’t think many people realize what a gift it is to have the opportunity to doll yourself up. It sounds silly, but truly it was one of the things I missed most during my cancer treatment. Everyone told me I was beautiful, and I knew I was beautiful inside, but I really missed looking beautiful outside. I just didn’t feel like me anymore - another stranger was living in a shell of what I was. It seems so shallow now but at the time I’d really wanted to look normal because everyone else around me still had their lives.

So I don’t really mind not conforming to the Williams standard because I know whose opinion matters most in the end.

Topic: Horses, little kids, cheese, and feeling like Rapunzel (almost).

Despite not having posted for over 3 months(?) or so, I just realized that more people are following my blogs. I’m a little bemused/confused as to how that happened, but I’m glad that people still find this interesting.

So…there’s a lot of catching up to do. First off - I have officially completed one year of academic study at Williams. Yay! I think I may have found my calling in art history - I still can’t write a decent essay but I definitely love reading about it. Plus, I did much better than I expected so I suppose that may be another reason…

But anyways. Academic news is boring to everyone else except me. So to get to the heart of my life (so far), here’s a breakdown:

1.) If you consider horseback riding a sport (and it definitely is), then I have become an athlete.

2.) I’ll never want to be a teacher because even though I love children, my tolerance for them will not last longer than one week, with just an hour exposure each day (1 hr/day for 1 week).

3.) I have become amazingly inventive with finding recipes and cooking with cheese.

4.) My hair now (almost!) reaches my shoulders.

Now for the explanations:

1.) I have loved horses since I was 6 years old. (Or somewhere around that time.) My mother never capitulated to my horseback riding obsessions though - until now! I’m not sure why she has finally conceded, beyond the possibility that she has realized that I would somehow or another learn how to ride. Not that I ride well yet…but at least I know how to slow trot, post at a fast trot, canter, pivot, sidepass, reverse arc, collect, extend, and ride without stirrups (without falling off! *knock on wood*). I literally went riding almost every day for the last two weeks of June (which I’ve affectionately labeled as a “crash course in riding”). I was incredibly sore for the first week but now I’m immune (I think) to the chafing, bumpiness, and pure balancing act that involves sitting in an English saddle (To begin with, an English saddle doesn’t have anything you can hold on to. You basically pray that you’d manage to remain seated on your horse and that you’d fall onto your horse’s neck if you lose control.)

A few days ago I started lessons with a new trainer. (I was in Ukiah - 2 hours north of where I’m at now - for a two week crash course on riding while simultaneously volunteering at my sister’s Buddhist monastery school’s summer camp. Since it’s not really reasonable for me to drive 4 hrs+ back and forth to see my trainer there I’ve found a new one in Castro Valley). The riding academy I’m currently attending is definitely a lot more formal than the one I went to in Ukiah (they had a Western riding arena there but luckily an English riding instructor as well). This one has a covered arena - which I was glad to see as I don’t like being under the sun. Besides, I’ve been radiated enough…I don’t think I need any more exposure. Anyways, my new trainer discovered that I’m still not balanced in the saddle - a factor I’m going to conveniently blame on the fact that I had to borrow boots (that were much too large for me) and thus I couldn’t get a proper hold of the stirrups while posting. So I’m going to work on posting some more while on a lunge line for the next lesson (next Wednesday) and hopefully I’ll be able to pick up where I’d left off soon enough. I’m glad I’ve finally gotten my riding fix - having gone riding for almost every day the last two weeks, it’d felt weird not having gone riding for a while.

But my mom (and dad) bought me field boots, breeches, and a bag (to put all my new riding equipment/apparel in) today and I’M SO HAPPY. It’s kind of ridiculous how much I love them (and riding in general) because now I can’t shut up about it…as you could probably tell by how much I’ve devoted to writing about it.

2.) So to explain another significant part of my summer, my crash course in riding coincided perfectly with my two weeks of volunteering at camp…specifically my little sister’s Buddhist monastery’s school’s summer camp. I really didn’t want to go at first - but later I figured that it’d be a good opportunity to contribute back to the community (and go riding as well)! I taught craft lessons, dance lessons to K-1 kids, and cooked for them as well. It was fun chilling with the counselors, but except for some exceptions…I didn’t like the campers.

Many of the campers irritated me. Perhaps that was due to the fact that some didn’t say “please” or “thank you.” Call me old-fashioned, but after slaving for 2-3 hours+ in the kitchens to make their twicebakedpotatoesnachoshomemadetortillachipschocolatedippedpretzelschocolatepuddingetc. snacks every day in addition to dinners on the weekend…I’d like to be acknowledged for the hard work I’ve done. Instead, I had empty plates thrust in front of me with some loud, obnoxious campers demanding “more” with their first servings since I hadn’t “given them enough.” ACK! I was also a little peeved that some of the campers often took more than their share…and thus the counselors had almost nothing left. Later I wised up and I just divided the portions - one for the campers and one for the counselors. I only love cooking/baking because people appreciate the effort I’ve put into it. I don’t like serving people who think that I’m there to cater to their every wishes because honestly I could have just said fuck it and let them go eat in the dining halls instead.

In addition to cooking duties, I also taught Bollywood dancing to K-1 kids for 30 minutes each day. I suppose I’m not the most qualified, given that I’ve joined Dance Dhamaka for less than a year and have never had any formal training…but little kids can’t really remember complicated choreography so it was all right. Besides, patience is a lot more essential than dance experience when it comes to teaching little kids…those little monsters suck up a LOT of energy. Half the time I spent “teaching” was spent defusing fights, getting them to pay attention, and trying not to go crazy. It’s not that I dislike kids. I just tend to not like them as much after…oh let’s say about an hour. They are adorable and cute and all, but they are a lot less adorable when they are screaming and yelling and running around. By the end of the week, I was tired…even though I still had one more week to go. I don’t understand how K-1 teachers stay sane. I had to drag myself to the classroom to teach them. I don’t even think I ever had the entire class’s attention except for the first 10 minutes on the first day I taught them. More than once I had to check myself before erupting into a volcano of fury. I was terribly frustrated by the fact that some of the kids wouldn’t listen. However, I also had the experience (thanks Girl Scouts summer camp) to realize that the best way to resolve the issue was to plow on with the agenda and ignore these distractions because eventually, the kids would realize that they had to get with the program. Anyways, somehow I got the kids to learn 2 minutes of choreography in 8 30-minute sessions…which is a miracle, I consider, in itself.

However frustrating it was to teach/cook *for* campers (I just realized that I wrote “cook campers” instead of “cook *for* campers”), it was really fun bonding with the counselors. Most of them were/are my little sister’s classmates, so it was nice getting to know them better. They’re also the reason for why I had a positive experience with camp (in addition to riding) in the end. It’s a really tight-knit community there, so I was honored to be included into their circle.

3.) Because I had to make snacks/dinner for the camp, I tried to use as many ingredients on hand as possible to minimize costs. One such ingredient, as you may have already guessed/known, was cheese. Lots and lots of cheese. I had never seen so much cheese in one fridge at once. I was overwhelmed. What could I make to get rid of all that cheese?! There were 6 2-lbs containers of ricotta. Pounds of cheddar. Pounds of American cheese. Pounds of all these different types of cheese I’d never seen before. I tried to incorporate as much cheese as possible into lasagna. I had grilled cheese sandwiches every day (which I didn’t mind because I love grilled cheese). I made twice-baked potatoes…which was more like twice-baked cheese with potatoes because of how much cheese was in it. I made cheese bread. I made nachos with homemade tortilla chips (old tortilla strips brushed with oil and sprinkled with salt in the oven at 350 degree F for 10-15 minutes). Many of the counselors were international students from Asia who aren’t used to eating cheese. They were aghast by all the cheese I used, at one point exclaiming: “Cheese every day?!” Luckily they still devoured everything I made. Also fortunate: I didn’t get sick from eating/baking/cooking with all that cheese

4.) While I still can’t put my hair up, my hair has definitely reached my shoulders! I still can’t believe that it’s taken a year for it to grow to this point though…now I believe that one youtube video I saw of this girl who’d gone through chemo and had to wait TWO YEARS to grow out her hair again. However, I hope that when I return to Williams, I can maybe put it into a semi-ponytail or something. (Or maybe it’d even be long enough for me to curl a tiny bit??) It’s still strange having wispy, fine hair - the only benefit of it (once it grows out) might be that I’d no longer have to use an entire can of hairspray to keep curls in place. My old hair was too thick and heavy to curl effectively… I used to feel as though I was singeing my hair rather than curling it because it’d take up to a minute to curl a single strand with a curling iron. I’m looking forward to having my hair grow out. It was nice getting a “change” of hairstyle, but I’d like to trade my “edgy” and “modern” short hair for the softer, feminine look I’m more accustomed to.

Anyways, I’ll try posting on a more regular basis so that way I wouldn’t have to condense everything into such a long post.

Topic: Enjoying life.

It’s very easy as a busy college student to forget about the bigger picture and to focus on the little details instead: receiving less than an ideal score, writing an essay that’s due in 2 hours, catching up on readings that have been neglected for weeks. There’s always something to be done and not enough time to do it. At least that’s how I used to think.

It’s true that there’s never enough time. There will never be enough time to try that cookie recipe, to sit in a quiet corner and read a novel from cover to cover, or to figure out how to play that new piece on your guitar. But that’s only if you don’t stop and make time for these things.

I, too, am caught up in the whirlwind of “doing more, achieving more” at Williams. That feeling overwhelms me often. I do sometimes feel as though I’d never be good enough because there will always be someone who is better at it than I am. I’m not competitive, but I don’t want to be left behind. I just want to stay ahead of the current. I push myself to reach higher goals because I don’t think I stand out in a crowd of such amazing people.

But I’ve also realized many things. During my time in the hospital, I evaluated my life in terms of what went wrong, what went right, and what I’d like to change. One of the things I really wanted to change was my list of priorities. I noticed that I planned a lot for the future: what I wanted to do in college, what I wanted to do after college, etc. etc. But I didn’t plan much for the present. Everything I did was for the future. I told myself that I would have fun once I reached “that point” in the future because by then, all my efforts would’ve paid off and I would be able to enjoy that time leisurely.

Of course that all went down the drain once I had cancer. Because guess what, I realized that I may not have that future! I was still too young to realize that my life had an expiration date. But now I am not so young; young perhaps in years but not from the knowledge that I’ve acquired.

Now I actively take time in my life to sit, to ponder, to contemplate, to enjoy. I am no longer under the false illusion that I have the luxury of time. I used to be so patient with people, but now that time is so precious to me, I no longer bother to listen to people’s bullshit, deal with jerks, or play mind games. It’s so freeing. 

I take time to dress stylishly because I can. I read novels because I can. I’ll perch next to a window and watch the weather because I can. Never underestimate the power of “I can.” You don’t realize that you can do it until that opportunity is taken away - and then it might be too late.

Besides, it keeps me sane. I can’t run at 150% level anymore. My health is too fragile and valuable for me to use up all my energy for something that’s literally not worth dying for. Because really, will that C on the essay/exam matter if you know you only have days left to live? I hope not.

So really, taking time to do such “trivial” things really saves me from taking life for granted.

Also, this a random side note, but sometimes my hair really irritates me. Yes, it’s a blessing especially when I’m running late for classes and I can only take 5 minutes to shower but I REALLY MISS HAVING LONG HAIR. I love my short hairstyle, but having long hair makes me feel a lot more feminine, a lot prettier. But now that my hair is finally growing out, I can start to imagine what I’d look like again with long hair!

Topic: Reflections again.

It’s very easy to forget that a year ago, I was beginning my second phase of chemotherapy. (Yay cycles 7-14!) Sometimes even now I forget that I had cancer. Maybe it’s because I’ve conformed to “life” as most people know it: studying,  sleeping, eating, hanging out with friends, having fun. I don’t talk about it and people don’t ask about it. When the subject is brought up - usually because they wonder why I’m living in upperclass housing when I’m only a freshman or why I have a 2 inch “turtle-shaped” scar in the middle of my chest - the conversation abruptly ends and another topic is introduced. It makes me a little sad - I do wish that someone could understand what I’ve experienced, but it would also mean that they were affected at some point as well…which would be very unfortunate.

But I’m not looking for pity. In fact, there’s nothing to pity me about. I just want someone to be able to feel - to acknowledge I suppose - what happened to me because sometimes I have trouble acknowledging what happened. Talking about it allows me to resolve, to celebrate, to grieve what happened last year.

There’s still some of that lingering pain. I usually try to end off on a more optimistic note because negativity throws me off balance. I see light at the end of the tunnel because if I don’t believe in it, I know I won’t continue on. I despair, but I keep it within me and deflect it through various other activities that make me happier.

But I’m afraid - life is too unpredictable. The more I try to control it, the faster it gets out of hand. It’s like the habanera from Carmen:

“The bird you hoped to catch

beat its wings and flew away …

it comes, goes, then it returns …

you think you hold it fast, it flees

you think you’re free, it holds you fast.”

And so I’ve been trying to let go. Shit happens. The best test I’ve come up with to determine whether or not I should be concerned is the question: “Will this really matter if I die tomorrow?” And of course the answer so far has been a resounding NO.

But I’m making my life sound a lot more miserable than it currently is. I’m blissfully happy with where I am now. Depending on how well the next following weeks go, maybe I’d finally be at liberty to talk about something that I’ve long wished for? I’ll see…though I really don’t like being put through this anxiety.

Topic: (Mini) Update.

I finally put the dress I bought in New York with Emile to good use this last weekend at the Winter Gala. The dress does personify me to some extent - it’s certainly girly with its black lace and fuchsia ribbon. But appearances are just appearances. 

Anyways, as part of the Winter Gala festivities, various activities went on in addition to the usual dance party - arts, crafts, belly dancers, and…a psychic. I’m not sure what prompted me to sit down and have my “fortune” told, but it wasn’t a bad experience. That’s mainly because I didn’t have the “future” revealed - “fortune-telling” was more like “I’m going to tell you various aspects of your personality.” I don’t believe in tarot cards or palm-reading, but she did tell me odd things about my life: how this was a period of health rejuvenation, how it was a new “beginning” for me, and how she detected strong ancestral spirits guarding me.

I did accidentally tell her that I had cancer in the beginning, so the former two “revelations” are somewhat moot points. But as for ancestral spirits? I’m not going to argue about religion nor am I going to expound on my religious views here, but there is a story for why the last part was eerie.

My grandmother from my paternal side lived in Taiwan, so I couldn’t visit her until there was a school break. But during her last four years, when she was bedridden and on dialysis, I visited her every break - summer, winter, spring. I couldn’t communicate well with her because she only spoke Japanese and Taiwanese, while I only knew English and Mandarin. However, I always stayed next to her bedside, trying to comfort and entertain her best as I could. She passed away in late August 2009, right when I was preparing to leave for Williams and just a month before my diagnosis. But the strange part is that a few days after she passed away, my aunt had a dream about my grandmother. In that dream, my aunt saw her standing next to the hospital bed of an unidentified occupant. My aunt asked her why she was there, and my grandmother replied: “I still have someone to look after.”

I don’t really have an explanation for it. It’s a really freaky coincidence.

Otherwise, life at Williams is going well. I just joined Dance Dhamaka, the Indian dance troupe on campus, as well as the planning committee for Relay for Life. I’m also in the process of sending out summer internship applications to various organizations in Washington DC and Denver. But the best part so far is that I’ve started meeting more people - I’m glad that there are still plenty of opportunities to get to know all the amazing people who go here even though I don’t have the typical freshman entry experience to rely on for meeting others.

There’s much to be grateful for, and I haven’t forgotten.

Topic: Home?

So I’m back in Cali, which is surprisingly…cold. Despite having survived 15 degree weather in Williamstown, I still think 50 degree in norcal is cold. How weird is that? I thought that I’d be able to walk around in just a tank top and flip flops like usual, but I’m still in the same winter garb I wore in Williamstown. I definitely was not a Spartan in any one of my past lives.

Anyways, I’m feeling incredibly relaxed right now; a total 360 from what I was feeling two days ago. My mom and little sister picked me up from Williams after I finished finals and we stayed in Boston for two nights before leaving for SF, but even with my family around me, I couldn’t shake off my fears. I felt even more worried (and guilty) than usual because I hadn’t been keeping up with my regular health habits, and I was afraid that it’d affect the results of my scans.

Thankfully I only had to take two scans this time: a PET/CT and a (higher resolution) CT. However in the future, I’ll most likely only have to take the PET/CT because imaging technology has improved and the PET/CT’s CT will have a much better resolution than it is now. My scans were scheduled on the 21st (CT) and the 22nd (PET/CT), and the clinic visit was immediately after the PET/CT scan. I didn’t have to wait too long for results; although I’d expected to wait at least 24 hours before receiving news, I only had to wait 4 hours before finding out during the clinic visit - thank goodness! I don’t think I’d have been able to bear the suspense. An hour was just plain torture. It still feel so strange and so scary, not being able to decide; it’s really like having the Fates decide your life with a snip of their scissors.

But being told that I’d passed the scans was seriously the best Christmas gift ever. I mean, how are you going to enjoy your Christmas gifts, nonetheless Christmas & life itself, if you know that it’s going to be your last? Knowing that I’ll have at least another 3 months is just too exciting! I’d started to get lost amidst finals, but now that they’re over and done with, I feel like I’m starting to get a grip on myself again. I’m not going to get as stressed as I was the last 2 weeks because it really just isn’t worth it and because…well I don’t really need to. I have bigger fish to fry, and finals really are and should be the least of my worries.

Coming back was slightly odd. Mostly because I don’t know where “home” is anymore. I consider myself a Cali girl - I live/lived in both socal and norcal. But Williams is also home. So am I really going back home? Not really. Nonetheless, it’s nice to be back. I missed being able to shop in a large mall, being able to eat good Asian food, and seeing my family. I was not so excited to see the hospital again (as expected), but now that part is over with, I’m not going to think about that anymore.

So, what exactly have I done since coming back from break? Visited the hospital (no duh), ate, shopped, read, made jewelry, and watched movies. Not much, but it’s break and I’m really relishing my freedom right now. My mom has finally stopped assigning me homework during breaks! (From the time I was 6 to 18, she made me prepare for the SAT/my courses/etc. with extra essays, assignments, and/or workbooks.)

I’ve also been taking advantage of the fact that I am now at last in close proximity to an Anthropologie store. I visited the one in Boston last week, but I also visited the one at Blackhawk yesterday. (Shopping alert: if you adore Anthropologie like I do, stop by one because they’re offering an additional 25% off…which is UNHEARD of. This is the first time I’ve seen Anthropologie offer a sale, so the fact that they’re offering one is sort of blowing my mind.) I picked up several cardigans, some pants, and a pair of jeans. Luckily for me, the petite sized pants+jeans had a bigger sale…I suppose being ”fun-sized” (as my sister/friend Jade likes to describe it) can be somewhat of an advantage when shopping.

Which brings up the question of, why do I like shopping? Besides the obvious answer - that I like beautiful things - part of the thrill also derives from the fact that I like seeing what I buy with an X amount of money. Sales are really quite fun, because then I’m challenged to find the best bargain (price and aesthetics-wise). Shopping is also a lot like being an artist; what you wear, how you wear your clothes presents a certain image to the world. So I like “creating” clothing ensembles that show a certain character of my personality that are also flattering on me.

I know it sounds shallow when I say that appearances matter, but as Wilde said: “We live in a world of appearances.” If you look at American culture, or almost any other culture, we’re obsessed with being beautiful. I think most people would like to deny that looks are important to them, but in truth, I doubt many can say that it isn’t. I guess it’s wired in us - we think that what’s beautiful is good for us (although on the contrary, it often isn’t). Plus, most of us don’t have the time to really know others; what we mostly know of them are made during first impressions(I belive that social psych can back me up - I know I’ve read this somewhere). However, I’m not saying that I advocate the importance of appearance (I hope I haven’t given the impression that I do as I actually don’t); but I’m merely pointing out how it’s become an important facet in society. I could also get a lot more preachy about this subject, but I don’t feel like this is something worth arguing over (although it really is fun to discuss).

Anyways.

We watched a French romantic comedy yesterday: Prete-Moi Ta Main/ I Do - How to Get Married and Stay Single. My mom and I exhausted the entire American romantic-comedy genre last year, so I guess now we’ve moved on to foreign films. (No, I don’t watch only chick flicks. I only watched chick flicks last year because the last thing I wanted to watch was people dying. And because I really wanted a happy ending, since I wasn’t so sure of mine.) Sometimes, I really just prefer foreign films. I see less and less content in Hollywood movies; they don’t make you think, they only make you feel. Sometimes when I want to escape, Hollywood movies are perfect because then I get caught up in all that intrigue, drama, and action. But often, I wish there was more depth to it, especially with the romantic comedy genre. It’s cliched, there’s nothing new - it’s the classic girl meets boy/boy meets girl…but with more sex than necessary. I’m not saying that there shouldn’t be sexual tension; but do they really need to insert something crude every 10 minutes? Sex sells, blah blah blah. But really, it does get boring. And I worry for those people who are inspired by those movies…

Which is why I find Millionaire Matchmaker alarming, if not also amusing to watch. For those who haven’t seen it, it’s basically what the title suggests: a reality show in which a matchmaker sets up a millionaire with hot girls (or a female millionaire with suitable guys). I’m not sure if I find it offensive that all the girls expect to be wined, dined, and blown away by the lavishness of the first date…and when they aren’t given that, they complain and have tantrums. I thought first dates were supposed to be more casual and low-key??? Maybe because they’re millionaires on that show, they’re given a different standard…but still. And I guess the girls are more materialistic, since they all want to marry a millionaire…but their expectations and behavior bother me nonetheless. It’s a guilty pleasure to watch (and judge), but the lessons that the show imparts truly worries me.

That said, I think I’ve done enough blogging for today. I haven’t eaten breakfast anyways.

Topic: Ramblings (because I am in need of some sort of procrastination).

Today is my last day of freedom. At least before I continue part 2 of my two-week study concentration camp. Viola recital (this Sunday), English paper (next Monday), Leadership Studies paper (Wednesday), Chinese Oral (Wednesday), English exam (Thursday morning), Chinese exam (Thursday afternoon), ART HISTORY (Friday morning).

If I didn’t have Art History, I wouldn’t be freaking out now. But there’s too much material to cover and I have too much stuff to do otherwise. HOWEVER. I’m going to think about that later. I’m still trying to figure out what’s the most efficient way for me to get everything done and still feel like I gave 100% effort. 

I’m trying to keep calm and rested so that way I don’t screw over my CT/PET/MRI scans at the end of the month (stress = bad health). 

I’m looking forward to going back to Cali…for family, friends, and…FOOD. I have never missed Asian food so much. It’s ridiculous. I used to hate going out to eat Asian food back at home (simply because it was everywhere), and now that I’m in the middle of nowhere…I crave it all the time. I hate when this happens. 

I’ve been trying to find out how I can teach a Free University course during Winter Study. (For those who don’t know what Winter Study is…it’s this AMAZING idea that Williams College came up with. It’s basically a month-long vacation in January with minimal “classes” in between. It’s a pain for professors, but for us students it’s the BEST month of the year. Classes in the past/now have included baking, pottery making, making beer (for those at least 21), glass-blowing, etc. You could also be more academically serious…but I didn’t look into those classes so I don’t know what they’re offering.) I’m taking Architectural Models with Professor Lewis this coming Winter Study, so I’m super excited about the artsy-crafty part of it. Ever since 5th grade (where my teacher had this out-of-the-box curriculum that included us making models of our classroom, an imaginary town, and our dream school), I’ve been yearning to have another opportunity to use my imagination to create something out of nothing. 

Speaking of which, that’s how I feel about my English paper. Minus the excitement part. I’m taking Professor Pethica’s Modern Drama (it’s a great class!), and for my paper I’m writing about how language is used in Pinter’s play Betrayal. I stopped by Pethica’s office today to discuss it, but I left more confused than when I came in. Pethica operates on a much higher intelligence level than I do…I see 1/10th of the stuff he sees in the text. Which is just plain frustrating because then I’m just like…WAIT. WHAT?! WHY DIDN’T I SEE THAT?! 

Maybe I’m not as creative or imaginative as I thought that I was. Or maybe I suffered some brain damage from last year, which is very very likely considering how I nearly wasn’t able to breathe (from lack of hemoglobin/refusing to get a blood transfusion). 

And wow. I just realized that I completely forgot to complete my train of thought - at least concerning Free University/Winter Study.

I’d really love to teach a baking class. Cooking would also be fun and more feasible…but baking is what I’m most experienced at. I MISS MY KITCHEN-AIDE. It was WONDERFUL. I didn’t have to beat batter/knead dough for at least 30 minutes BY HAND. (And it still didn’t produce the results I was expecting. You can’t beat egg whites until they’re fluffy by hand. And when I mean “fluffy,” it has to lose that slippery, transparent liquid stage and form soft peaks of white fluff. It’s. Just. Not. Possible.) I’d also love to experiment with an ice cream machine but since it’s snowing outside…Nope. It’s not going to happen.

I thought about what I’d like to teach. Caramel, candy, cheesecake, creme brulee, cinnamon buns, chocolate truffles, chocolate souffle, cakes, cookies…a lot of baked goods that start with “C.” I thought I’d make it college-friendly (i.e. no more than 5 ingredients, takes less than 1 hour, costs less than $15 total). But that may be a little difficult to do…considering how I like and usually use more complicated recipes. I also thought about what I’d name the course…although nothing I’ve come up with so far are of any particular note-worthy interest. Suggestions would be very much appreciated. 

Also. Thankfully, I haven’t heard too many people complain about their life. Because then I’d just want to punch them for not being grateful about what they have. 

Yeah. I can be a terrible person. 

Topic: Content.

So midterms finally came back - and while I didn’t do perfectly, I’m pretty pleased with the results. I spent a lot of time on Art History; I wasn’t too sure what it’d be like since I’d never taken this subject before, so I pored over the slides and readings for hours on end. I was so paranoid that I even compiled a 20+pages study guide. In the end all that hard work paid off; I did well on the multiple choice section and surprisingly better than expected on the two short essays (I thought I’d bombed it because I didn’t write as well as per my usual standards). Now I’m feeling a lot more confident about my classes - although I’m trying not to let that affect me too much. I don’t want to let up my guard yet.

Anyways. So I finally decided not to wear my wig anymore. Part of the reason behind this was because it’d started to tangle really badly. I also felt like an imposter - I know I looked more attractive in it, but like I said before, I felt guilty that I was getting attention from borrowed beauty. Even so, I was slightly upset by the fact that most guys would be nicer to me (i.e. as in they would open doors, etc.) when they saw me in the wig, but not quite so without it. I guess conventional beauty still matters.

But it was funny receiving compliments from various people about my new “hairstyle.” Many of them asked me where I’d gotten it cut - I didn’t quite know how to respond to this, so I came clean and just told them I had chemo. I should have injected a little humor into it though and told them it was the most expensive hair cut I’d ever received - a half million dollar hairstyle, complimentary at the oncology center at Stanford’s Lucile Packard Children’s Hospital. I bet lots of people would be signing up for it if they’d known.

I also think I confused my political science class with my “hair” - I came without the wig one day, but the following weeks afterward I had “hair” again. And now I’m without the “hair” again. However, I don’t think most of them have realized that I’ve gone through chemo. Apparently one of my classmates thinks it’s cool that I can switch hairstyles whenever I want to. Hahahahaha.

But yeah. I’m a lot more reclusive this year. I thought I’d come back wild and crazy and bouncing off the walls, but nah. That hasn’t happened yet. I’m just slowly easing myself back into normal society again. I’m not in such a big hurry anymore. I just want to savor each moment I’m alive, and just take it easy for a while before I decide what my next big move is going to be. I’m still hesitant - I feel like this is a trial period, and there’s no guarantee that I’ll be fine forever. This may also account for while I haven’t jumped back into Williams’ social scene - I don’t want to become attached and later find out that all is not going as well as it seemed.

This new approach to life does give me more time to study though. Although lately, during my free time, I’ve been watching a lot of movies. Now I understand why my mom loved watching movies last year. I just couldn’t appreciate it back then because I was in too much pain to focus. Watching movies is very meditative…I like the fact that there’s not too much thought involved. It’s nice to escape into another world and not have to think too much about your own. I’d like to breathe every now and then.

Speaking of which, my aunt sent me a care package! I was so excited because she sent me these two lovely earmuffs and an Indian cookbook, among other goodies! They’re so warm, not to mention cute - I actually can’t wait for colder weather to arrive so that way I have an excuse to wear them more often. My mom has also been sending me various packages - many of them containing fruit! I miss having exotic fruits year-round here; the season and variety is so much more limited. I especially miss having bok choy - I haven’t been able to find it locally, although I did get some during my shopping spree at Trader Joe’s in Boston last week. (it was HILARIOUS. My poor friends had to help me lug these HEAVY bags loaded with food around Boston.)

But Miriam is coming from Boston to visit me during Thanksgiving break next week - which I’m super excited about because we’ll have so much more time to explore the Purple Bubble AND not have to study as much (although I’ll still need to study at some point during the break…*sigh*) AND be able to sleep in as late as I want to. I’m also dreading the end of Thanksgiving break because it’d mean that finals will be starting soon again…

HOWEVER. I still have some time right now. I’m going to put this weekend to good use!

tardisandherdoctor asked: LAURICE!
I love you a lot! I hope that Williams is treating you right, and you're not being too mean to any of the boys there ;)

Have a fabulous day! I miss you a lot <3

CHRISTA!

I love you like no other! Williams is pretty awesome so far, minus midterms. LOL. what boys? :P I’m too studious now to find any. How’s Chapman?

Anyways, hope you have a fabulous day, and a fabulous lifetime! Miss you too! <3

Topic: You never get rid of the past.

Sometimes I can’t let go of my anger. I guess it finally hit me that a year has passed and that my friends have moved on with their lives. But I haven’t.

I’m still stuck in last year.

I struggle to tell people what it feels like, coming back to Williams. Yes, it’s pure joy. But I hadn’t realized until now that there’s also a lot of sadness and bitterness and anger over the fact that I’ve basically lost a year of my life.

Coming back reminds me a lot of the “what ifs.” What if I had stayed at Williams? What would I have been like? Granted, there are many things that I’m glad I learned about myself over last year, but I feel so bitter about how that came about.

And it’s so odd, contrasting myself with my personalities from the present and the past. I find myself smiling less than I used to. I’m still not used to the new me - cynical, dark, and pessimistic. I feel so old. I can’t talk to my friends about it because they won’t understand. They’ll pat me on the shoulder, tell me that everything will be all right, and move on to a happier subject. And that’s not what I want.

I need someone to listen, to truly listen. Not to tell me that, “Oh, something like that once happened to me.” I need someone who hears what I’ve said, cries/laughs/cusses with me as I’m telling my story, can dissect what I’ve just said, and honestly talk about it with me. I need to talk about it. I need to somehow reconcile all my negative feelings with my hopes for the future. I need to move on. But I can’t. And I think everyone expects me to move on now that the treatment is over, but I can’t. I still need time to figure things out. It’s a shock, going in. But it’s also a shock going out. And just too many things happened in between that my brain is all confused and muddled about how I should feel about it.

I spent treatment focusing on getting back to Williams. I needed hope, I needed optimism. But now I’m at Williams. And all those suppressed, negative feelings that I had during treatment are coming out now. Sometimes I look at my peers around me, and I resent them for just how lucky they are. How lucky they don’t have to think death. How lucky one of their parents didn’t abandon them when they needed them the most.

Because there has been something on my mind that I haven’t publicly talked about all year. But now I find myself thinking more and more about it, and I can’t let it go unless I acknowledge it. So here it is.

Last year, I was not only physically pummeled by cancer, but I was also emotionally pummeled by my father’s behavior towards me and family. My fucking father abandoned me.

He told everyone I was going to die. He told everyone how much money my treatment was and how I was wasting his money because I was going to die anyways (when in reality it was all paid for by insurance). He never asked me how I was doing. He never knew what was happening to me. FUCK, even my sister’s friend’s father knew more about what was going on in my life than my own fucking bastard of a father did. He even sent me a book that literally said that he regretted having me, that he was miserable because I was alive, and that he hoped that I would die by throwing myself out the window. He even had the fucking nerve to tell people that he was “suffering” when he never knew how my mother, sister, and I suffered.

First off, a parent by definition is never supposed to give up on you. A parent is supposed to unconditionally love you. Now, the fucking bastard did give up on me. And he only loved me when he could brag about my achievements. Throughout my last 19 years, I rarely saw my father even though we lived under the same roof. He came home  late because he chose to, not because he had to. He treated my sister, my mother and I like shit - he expected us to respect him, but he didn’t think that he had to respect us. He never knew who I was, never knew who my friends are, never knew what I did in my life.

I managed to quell my feelings into apathy during the summer, but I still feel the reverberations even now. It’s like waves - at times you feel the full force of the impact, at times, when it has receded, you hardly notice it licking at your conscious.

But sometimes I feel the need to throw something, to scream in fury, to even hit and hurt someone because inside, it hurts me so badly that I need to somehow make someone acknowledge how awful it feels. And I need to stop this because I know I’m exuding such a negative field of energy that my suitemates don’t want to come near me.