Wednesday, December 7, 2011

This it is. Done.

So this is it, my last blog entry of the semester. In the span of over three months, I’ve complained about this blog, laughed while writing this blog and shared my life’s problems on this blog. Now, it is coming to an end. At the start of the semester I was a different person than who I am right now. My first blog entry was written two weeks after my ex broke up with me and I thought I would never smile or be happy again. I had never experienced so much pain in my life and believed I would never heal because I was in complete shambles. Three months later, here I am. I’m still alive, I laugh, I live, think, dance, smile, thrive. The human mind and heart is truly amazing in its ability to heal itself. I thought I should stay in my room and watch the seasons go by until my ex realized that we were meant for each other but that is unfair. In the movies, when someone gets their heart broken, they just lay in their bed listening to sad music until a. their ex takes them back, b. a new person sweeps them off their feet and they live happily ever after. None of which happened to me, perhaps because I did not lay in my bed torturing myself with Tracy Chapman and Coldplay. I licked my wounds and healed, well I’m still in the process but I’m certainly better than I was three months ago. Farewell  fellow bloggers, I hope you this facet of my life interesting. If not, I totes understand, it's probably only interesting to me.

xoxo Rachele

To seek favor or attention; to act subserviantly (n, adj: fawning)

To give false appearance or impression: "He feigned illness to avoid going to school." (adj: feigned)

Monday, December 5, 2011

The Truth

I am writing this blog entry as I lay in bed at 10:30 p.m.. I have been staring at the blinking curser for twenty minutes contemplating one of my last blog entries. I am thoroughly exhausted from a day of classes, work and studying for 4 hours. All I want to do is shut my laptop, moisturize my face and pass out while listening to Friends on t.v., but this blog cannot wait. Instead of boring you, the reader, and myself I figure I might as well tell the truth, rather than painfully discuss politics while half a sleep. Work today was insane. It was busy, loud and overwhelming. All of my favorite customers decided to come in at the same time, so I was on bar making drinks while trying to have a normal conversation over the loud steaming of Eggnog. I probably understood about 40 percent of what each of them had to say, but I think I got the gist of it. People talk to their barista as if we are their therapist. I’ve heard confessions, explicit stories, raunchy jokes and countless complaints about significant others. I do not mind listening at all, everyone should have someone to talk to but when I am in the middle of a rush, I cannot properly “Oprah” the situation. To “Oprah” I mean to discuss, analysis and ultimately resolve the problem either by giving out cars or trips to Australia. I’m known for my ability to “Oprah” people’s problems at Starbucks. It’s a gift. 

Weaken (adj: attenuated)
Extremely bold; fearless, especially said of human behavior (n: audacity)

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Writing for the Major

          When I was in middle school, I fell in love with writing. I would look forward to my teachers explaining how paragraphs were formed and proper organization of an essay. My English teacher from 6-8 grades, Mr. Moeckli, inspired me to pursue my writing beyond his class. He had me keep a journal of my favorite passages from the books we were reading, almost like a dialectical journal but he never graded it. Every night I would find a moving sentence from The Giver or Lord of the Flies and discuss its meaning and my interpretation. At the end of each month Mr. Moeckli would collect my journal and comment on the grammar or spelling mistakes. He never gave me a grade, only constructive criticism that I can still remember. When I reached high school, I longed for his feed back and belief in me because my new teachers fell short. Public high school teachers did not have the time to pay special attention to me or nurture my fondest of writing in ways that Mr. Moeckli had done at my small private middle school. The classes were a breeze but I did not grow in ways that I had hoped. We read the same material I had already read in previous years and learned more confusing essay structures. The Jane Schaffer Paragraph was my least favorite method that teachers seemed to constantly ask for in our writing. My paragraphs were more advanced than that technique but I was graded down because I strayed from the format. Soon I found myself unconsciously writing with less control over my words than I had done in middle school. It was not until my A.P. English Language class that I regained my style and honed my writing. Two years were seemingly wasted on faulty techniques that promote a simplistic standard of writing. I didn’t think my middle school knowledge was too relevant until May of 2009. I was in a large gym taking my last AP Test of high school: AP English Literature. I was not too nervous because I had an A in the class but the test was going to be difficult to pass. I finished the multiple guess, the first two essay questions and began reading the last “Outside Knowledge” prompt. I blanked. It asked us to analyze the symbolism of an inanimate object from a short list of books. I hadn’t read many of the book recently enough to write an essay on the symbolism, so I freaked out. Everyone was feverishly writing and I had nothing. Then, as if a sign from God, it hit me. Lord of the Flies. I knew everything about that book: important sentences, key passages, the characters, and even the symbolism. I closed my eyes and remembered so clearly my teacher saying, “Piggy’s glasses-wise,knowledge,hope.” Four years after reading the book and hearing the lecture, I wrote an essay on the symbolism of Piggy’s glasses, the conch shell and Ralph’s tears as they sailed away from the island. I could not believe it. I was so thankful. I remember every english teach I’ve ever had since kindergarden and each one has made a huge impact on my life. English is a beautiful language and I’m so lucky that I experienced many talented educators who share my same passion. 

Depravity; baseness: "Mr. Castor was fired for moral turpitude."

Beginner; person lacking experience in a specific endeavor: "They easily took advantage of the tyro."

Deny the Acceptance of Failure

          The end of the semester is upon us. For the next two weeks I will do nothing but study and work. Perhaps I will try to squeeze in some sleep but only a few hours a night. Last year, I did not stress about finals. I earned high scores in my classes so the finals would not affect me too much but everything has changed. My classes are way more intense this semester, I’m working more often and my personal life is a mess. I knew classes would be more difficult this semester because I am taking all upper division courses but I had no idea that my life outside of academia would be so stressful. I found myself excusing my laziness and lack of motivation because of my breakup but that only hindered my success. I procrastinated too much, slept too much, and complained way too much this semester. Everyone has their own problems that they need to deal with but mine just seemed more important than school for a few weeks. Although my ignorance probably hurt my grades, I did the best I could considering my situation. Now I must get through the final two weeks of hell and attempt to muster up the courage to succeed. I’ve found that success takes courage; one must be brave to fully explore knowledge and succeed in this world. I will “Deny the acceptance of failure.”

Habitually untalkative or silent (n: taciturnity)
Exercising moderation and self-denial; calm or mild (n: temperance)

Friday, November 11, 2011


         Today is 11-11-11. The world has not ended, but it is still pretty early in the evening. I had lunch with my middle school boyfriend’s mother. When he and I went to high school our families stayed relatively close although he and I rarely spoke. The last time I saw him I was 16, unsure of myself but ready to get him back. Surprisingly, he had a girlfriend and told me how they met, and how great she makes him feel. I was not upset or hurt, I was jealous. I thought I wanted him so badly, badly enough to wish him unhappiness in his relationship with his new girlfriend, who I envied. At that moment, I felt I would never find anyone as good as him, no one as smart, handsome, or funny. With time, of course I found someone else, someone different, who made me feel wonderful for a long time. We experienced real love, not the middle school play ground puppy love that I thought I wanted to rekindle.
At lunch, his mom and I caught up on six years of my life, her life, her son’s life and it felt incredible. According to her, her son peaked in high school. He is still with the same girl, going to community college to get his AA, then moving to LA to pursue acting. His girlfriend is an “idiot” and they live with her mother who supports them both. To top it off, he is going bald at age 20. She said that over the years she would encourage him to dump his girlfriend and reconnect with me but he ignored her.His mom didn’t have too many good things to say about her oldest son, but she did say that he should “rue the day he hurt such a great girl like me.” That shit CRAY! I sat there and silently congratulated myself, I unintentionally dodged a bullet. 
Over dessert and cappuccinos, she had an amazing idea: he and I meet up today. She called him and told him to meet her at her house because she had a surprise for him, and neglected to say that I was with her. I was a little hesitant because I could see him getting upset that she arranged all this. We arrived at the house and I wasn’t nervous. I wasn’t the 16 year old girl who had no self confidence, I wasn’t unsure of my feelings, I felt like a woman. He was completely shocked. He awkwardly hugged me, then looked at his mother and rolled his eyes. She insisted that he and I take a picture together, so we complied but he didn’t touch me. I was smiling and easy going the whole time because I knew the truth: he wasn’t the same person he was 6 years ago and neither was I. His mom told him my plans for grad school, where I work, and he tried his best to care. He nodded and glared at his mom. It was awkward just sitting in silence with him but it wasn’t uncomfortable. He knew me in a way no one else did, and in some ways, no one else ever will. We were each others first kiss, first relationship, first heart break. I think we will always be special to each other, even in the smallest way. After 10 agonizing minutes, he left. He didn’t hug me or even look at me, I said goodbye and he waved. His mom laughed then said he was probably pissed at her. She’s a funny lady, she’ll do anything for a good laugh. We chatted for a while then she walked me to my car. She said something that will stay with me forever, “Ben, he owns his feelings, forget him. You’re on the right path.” Six years ago, hell even 3 years ago, I would never imagine that I would be better off without him. Things really do happen for a reason, sometimes it takes years to understand it but it is true. Today reminded me that I may have a broken heart now, but my heart has healed before and will heal again. 11-11-11 proved to be a life changing day.

deception by trickery

willingly compliant or accepting of the status quo (n: complaisance)

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Virtuous Living

         Today in Classical Political Thought with Dr. Peter, I experienced a beautiful lecture. It was about Confucius and Mencius’s ideas of virtue and leadership. One cannot be a great leader unless he/she demonstrates true, virtuous principles. Etiquette, manners, politeness and education are major themes of living a virtuous life and suddenly I felt emotional. I had an epiphany, I suppose. I realized that I want to be more steadfast in my principles, even when it is difficult. Staying true to goodness is probably the most difficult choice people make but it is the right choice. These virtues are not created overnight, they require discipline and wisdom that I will only acquire over time.
Dr. Peter told the class of how his education gained the respect of his future father-in-law. His girlfriend’s father wanted to meet him alone for lunch before he gave them his blessing for marriage. Dr. Peter was nervous at first because he was not the “nice Asian boy” that tradition deemed acceptable but one important and unchangeable virtue saved him: education. Dr. Peter told his future father-in-law about his world class education at Stanford and Princeton then suddenly his fear melted away. He was now acceptable to marry the man’s daughter for his education proved virtuous and disciplined. I am not saying that a Doctorate from Princeton is worthy of being virtuous but it was Dr.Peter’s ambition and drive that impressed his wife’s father. While he retold the story, his face lit up and he began to pace nervously. It was endearing seeing a brilliant man speak with such excitement and honor for his wife.
I realized that etiquette, manners and honesty are powerful faculties that I wish to hone but education is just as meaningful. Without an education, I am not a complete being. Perhaps some can live full lives without education but I cannot. Education will lead me to my happiness, it will keep me on the virtuous path that I create for myself. Today’s lecture was incredibly moving, for numerous reasons but most of all it gave me courage to believe in myself. 

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Do Not Look in the Back of Your Drawers

          Do not look in the back of your drawers. A few days ago I was rummaging through my drawers hoping to find a specific shirt when I came across a wrinkled, grey, v-neck t-shirt. I quickly grabbed the shirt, held it in front of me, then realized this shirt belongs to someone who is thousands of miles away. I smelled it and hoped my olfactory bulbs would tingle with excitement when I smelled a scent that was once so comforting. I could not smell anything but the scent of my room and cedar drawers. I just stood silently with the shirt in hand, almost unable to put it back because I missed the person who once wore it. My mind promptly started to spin out of  control, and wondered if one of my shirts was in Cordoba, Spain at this very moment. I was dragged in to this mental battle with myself because I looked in the back of my drawers. Things that are in backs of drawers, closets, pantries, or even books are meant to stay a mystery until one is ready to explore the reason they were shoved so far away from daylight. Until I am ready to excise this shirt or possible multiple shirts, I am too afraid to look, I will leave it alone back there. If I do not bother it, it will not bother me, hopefully.


adj., adv.
Headfirst; impulsive; hasty. impulsively; hastily; without forethought: "They rushed headlong into marriage."