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Academia-Schmacademia

Thursday, January 26th, 2012

*ACHTUNG! The following article has nothing to do with video games, The Monkees, or tape worms. It is a speech I plan to give. You may read it at your own risk. Or you can go back to browsing the mature section of my art gallery for further amusement.

There is something to be said for being “the most improved student.” When I was in Jr. High, there were awards given to students who achieved academic success. ”Most likely to succeed”, “Least amount of absences,” and the incredibly unappreciated “Most improved” award. Many students do not realize how impressive the title really is. ”Most improved? Doesn’t that mean you SUCKED at first?!” And it does. It means you weren’t doing so hot in whatever classes you were taking. But it also implies you stepped it up, and overcame those academic and life obstacles that may have initially kept you from success.

When I was 7, my family and I moved out of a small town and into a bigger city. Being a quiet child, I found it difficult to make friends at my new school. And thus began the 15 year downward spiral of despising school and everyone who went. Up until 4th grade, I didn’t show any signs of being a troubled child. And then 5th grade came along, and BAM. GALLSTONES. Yes, I was 10 and somehow had gallstones. I went in for surgery to have the stones and affected organ removed, and when I went back to school, I found it extremely difficult get back into the routine. Part of this was because I felt like I didn’t have many friends, and I feared the other kids were talking behind my back. It seems quite silly at the time, but I was positive, in my neurotic, 11 year old mind, I was being ridiculed for having to have my gallbladder taken out.

Between the ages of eleven and fourteen, I longed to be popular. It was almost an unhealthy obsession – I wanted nothing more to be apart of the popular crowd, but I was too shy, and I was labeled a loser. As a child, it was impossible to foresee my future, not knowing that labels wouldn’t matter in college or beyond. I became so depressed and self conscious about myself, that I didn’t care about learning, or making the best out of my education. I was blinded by my own selfish thoughts and wants. The longer I went to school, the more I hated myself. So I did terribly. Present me would absolutely hate past me. I would kick my own ass if I knew myself back then.

I started high school with the same morose thoughts leaking over. I did not care to learn in my classes. I just wanted out. I fell into the awful category of people who go around spouting, “Why am I learning THIS? I will never use this in real life! Screw this garbage.” To make matters worse, my father was suffering with cancer at the time. When he died, my apathy for school turned into pure, irrational hatred. I was kicked out of public school and put into an alternative school. After my fathers passing, I dropped out.

It’d be easy to say that I dropped out due to my Father’s death, but it only played one factor in my decision. My father’s death was tragic, and of course affected me a great deal, but wasn’t the main problem keeping me from fulfilling my academic goals. It put a strain on things, but at that point, I still didn’t know what I was supposed to be doing with my education.

My mom pushed me to get my GED, and thank god she did. I owe her one. Even though I wasn’t very dedicated to going to my GED study courses, I passed, and it was enough to get me into college.

Without even thinking, I started college without any set plans as to what I should major in. I figured, “Hey. I can draw! I’ll major in art!”

I loathed it.

Drawing on command? Why would anyone want to do that?

I struggled with many majors between the ages of 18-23. Over those 5 years, my motivation seemed to slowly climb, but because I was so indecisive about what I was going to study, I never really got anywhere. Fiction writing, psychology, illustration…christ, I almost went into phlebotomy! And I’m not saying there is anything wrong with any of these subjects. But they didn’t keep my interest long enough, and my enthusiasm seemed to dwindle. My GPA was a 1.3. I had flunked three courses. Yeah, I was really going places.

It was not until I met a guy through some mutual friends, who was majoring in computer science, that I finally started to become passionate about learning. Before I go any further, I must admit to you guys, I am a hardcore nerd. Computers, video games, and anything technology related always fascinated me, but due to my ignorance, I never thought I could find a school concentration that allowed me to work with those things. I fell madly in love with this guy, because he was passionate about computer science. Always striving to be better. I wanted to be like him. He was now my hero.

So I followed in his footsteps, and with his help, I found a major that helped me learn more about computers and internet related technologies. Which is a great thing, because I am pretty much putzing around on the internet all day anyway. I suddenly felt like I belonged in school. The ideas of being popular were gone. Instead of my father’s death plaguing me, it inspired me. I enjoyed being smart, and I enjoyed learning about something I truly loved.

After awhile, one of the school professors urged me to apply for a teacher aide/tech tutoring position at the school. She probably noticed that while I was in her class, I was constantly helping the other students sitting around me. So I applied, and got the job. Teaching people has been a truly gratifying experience. It’s a job that not only makes me happy, but makes others happy when they finally understand a concept they couldn’t grasp before. My confidence was now boosted. I currently have a GPA of 4.0 in my core classes, and a 3.6 all around. I still have two F’s on my school transcripts, but with my dedication to my concentration, I was able to combat the two F’s with a slew of A’s. It was not easy, and it took a long time. But good things are often difficult, and time consuming.

You will know when something truly clicks. The moment you “get it”; the moment you finally understand that math equation, or that programming concept, is one of the most rewarding feelings you will ever experience. And it is worth it. Even if you think you are trapped in a class that you may not ever use, you owe it to yourself to make the best out of those classes, and get the grade you really want. Pay attention to other people. Pay attention to people who are passionate about what they do, and let that inspire you.

Someone once told me that a large part of intelligence is not your ability to *do* your work, but the ability to adapt to situations, and have an understanding of what you are doing. I didn’t realize that when I first started my education. I always wanted the “best grades” award right off the bat. But I embrace my “most improved” status. Never lose heart, even when you felt like you’ve lost it. There are some things in life you can’t change; some obstacles that seem impossible to move past. But you can always go back and learn.

Posted in Deep Thoughts, Lets Get Personal | 12 Responses »

They Paved Paradise

Friday, April 29th, 2011

You know, for the most part, this website has been used to promote my incredibly banal and daffy thoughts and ideas. Every now and then I’ll throw up a “deep” blog, just to get my frustrations out, but for the most part, it’s been mindless prattle. Today, I think I’ll go the “profound” route. I can’t guarantee this won’t turn out cheesy. But we all like cheese. S’all gouda. PUN.

I usually hate cliche sayings. They usually irritate me. But some cliche sayings happen to be true in every sense of the word. ”You don’t know what you have until it’s gone” (Not to be confused with “You don’t know what you got till it’s gone”, which is a very well known Joni Mitchell tune and has nothing to do with anything I am saying, I am just babbling), has struck me lately.

Specifically when I think about people I’ve lost through death. Especially in the instance of my father, who I lost to cancer when I was 14. That was a strange age for me. Like most 14 year olds, I was awkward, greasy, and unsure of my place in society. I was also a pain in the ass who instigated fights and got kicked out of public school, but that’s a different story altogether.

Me and my Dad were always close, but our relationship really blossomed far after he was diagnosed with cancer, and I feel like before that, I may have taken advantage. Nobody ever thinks they will lose someone, and no one ever thinks someone bad will happen to them. The common idea people have is “That’s something that happens to someone *else*…not *me*. Life is unpredictable like that.

It’s way too short. So I am going to eat this entire stuffed pizza and not care, because dammit, I like pizza, and I deserve a treat. If you want something, take it. If you like someone, take THEM. (…..Not sure what I actually mean by that. It’s probably sexual.)

It’s so easy to take things for granted these days, and I know I have in the past. We all have. The past month has taught me a lot. Particularly to not waste my time on petty things that will just cause undue stress. Time to focus on what really matters. PIZZA!

I mean…uh. Friendships and people

.....and food.

I take a lot of business classes for my college major. One of the most important things I’ve learned came from my presentations class. A rule of thumb is to focus on the cheerleaders (the people who are interested) during your presentation, and ignore the ill attentive. Spend your energy catering to the group of people who are interested in what you have to say, and keep them interested. Don’t spend all your energy on one or two people you will never be able to impress. Focus on the essential.

……And buy some pizza.

You’re probably hungry!

Posted in Deep Thoughts | 7 Responses »

Consequences

Friday, February 5th, 2010

Not even a week ago, something happened that left me frightened. While in bed, sound asleep, I woke up to have what can be called a seizure; I thrashed and flailed about for what I would say ten minutes. I don’t remember specifics or what I was thinking or feeling, but when I woke up the next morning, my entire right arm was numb, which is why drawing has been somewhat hard recently. The root of the seizure is something that I have been struggling with for a long time now – 8 years – but because of what happened last week, I decided to be more candid about it.

I grew up a very chubby girl, and grew into an obese teen. My friends were a little more than rude, it was hard having skinny friends making fun of overweight people when we hung out – calling them whales – laughing behind their backs – I felt awful.

I was that girl in elementary school, secretly wishing she could look like the popular students, yearning for blond hair, blue eyes, and zero fat on my body. I was that girl who would look into the mirror, and smile to see if she looked pretty, or turn her head to see what she looked like at different angles. I would grab at my chub, and wish it was muscle. I fell into the media hype, I wanted that American Dream – I wanted perfection. I was that girl who was influenced by the wrong ideas – the idea that thin was beautiful, and I could not be beautiful without being thin. I couldn’t handle being the fat girl, the girl nobody wanted, the girl I saw in the mirror. I was the girl who took the joke personally. And the last straw that started it all was the comment I got from my first boyfriend: “She’s as big as a house.”

I couldn’t handle giving up food, so I went the destructive route, and quickly became bulimic.

Bulimia proved to be difficult at first; throwing up is never pleasant, whether it is provoked by the flu, or self induced. But I quickly got over it, and it became routine. For years, I would purge my food as much as 30 to 60 times daily, without telling anyone. I felt like I was getting away with something, as long as I hid it, and as long as I stopped before it became out of control, I would be fine.

Negative eighty pounds later, I couldn’t stop. My weight fluctuated, my hair started falling out, my skin became blemished, my eyes were dark and puffy, my teeth rotted, my heart often pumped irregularly, there were bite marks and scars on my hands, where my teeth would clench into my skin when I was purging. The consequences were not light or subtle, but I didn’t stop, my mentality was so extreme that I would rather die than become fat again. Even the incentive of death was not powerful enough to tame my disorder.

As recently as last year, I sought help for my disorder after having frequent fainting spells. I have tamed my disorder, but it’s never over. Reintroducing food into your system can sometimes shock it – causing seizures sometimes, or sometimes panic attacks. The hardest parts are my thoughts, the ones that keep telling me I am fat and ugly, the ones that remind me of the cruel kids in high school who wouldn’t leave me alone. And the media. The media was the worst influence on me. But I have worked hard at it, and have gotten much better about accepting myself and realizing that I was beautiful all along, fat or no fat, blond hair or black hair, blue eyes or green eyes – my personality overrides those things. But it took almost 8 years to get over these things, and by then, harm had already been done.

What am I saying to my readers is, if you struggle with something, if your self esteem is low, do not, DO NOT, give up on yourself. Accept yourself the way you are, and realize that you can be happy even in grim situations. You can be happy with what you have. Surround yourself with good people, genuine people you trust. Remember material things do not matter. Money is good, and hard to come by in this economy, but people are the ones that matter. People can talk to you, love you, hold you, and be there for you. Money and material things could not solve my problem, only loving, caring people could do that. I promise you that.

If you are being destructive, and you know it and think you are getting away with something, you aren’t. There are always consequences to what you do, and some things are irreversible. My arm has not regained feeling, and my hair never grew back to what it was. I spent an ungodly amount of money fixing my teeth, if I had only realized sooner that appearance does not define who I am, I could have avoided many physical ailments.

More importantly is, we are not going to be young forever. We are all going in the same direction, which is getting older, getting gray, and getting saggy. Enjoy your youthful looks if you’d like, but it will not last.

Even if only one person reads this post, and it inspires them and takes something positive away from this, I will be a happy that I shared. And if you are on the bullying side, don’t ever think that your words or actions will not influence someone. You never know what is going to hurt someone, or not affect them at all.

Posted in Deep Thoughts, Lets Get Personal | 40 Responses »

Breast Laid Plans

Sunday, January 24th, 2010

Alright, let’s get right down to business. Something has been bothering me for a good while now, and I really think it needs to be addressed in a serious, and classy manner.

Boobies.

….Hrm, that isn’t quite the way I wanted to present this. But it will have to do. So, we all know what breasts are. And if you don’t know them as “breasts”, then you might know them as boobies, tits, jugs, racks, headlights, hooters, mammaries, or my personal favorite, chumbawumbas. The myriad of slang terms for breasts is actually pretty impressive, but for the sake of this entry, lets call them breasts.

So my question is: what makes breasts, particularly female breasts, so appealing? Guys seem to go ga-ga over them, becoming drooling sacks of testosterone at the slightest hint of cleavage, and even I admit to being physically attracted to the shape and look of female breasts. No one seems to pay any attention to male breasts unless they are categorized as moobs, and it’s normally negative attention, even though female and male breasts ar breastimagebuttonup e basically the same thing: roundish sacks of fat.

Now, it’s speculated that males have an instinctive attraction to breasts, due to breast feeding and motherly things, and all that Freudian-style junk. And I do think it’s junk; maybe that theory does have some merit, but it doesn’t explain my own attraction to this body part as a female, and I am not saying that I lust over them, but there is something attractive about that particular area. So while I think this idea does make some sense in a psychological manner, I think it’s a bit old fashioned. I don’t think most men are drawn to breasts because they were breast fed, and I certainly don’t think breast feeding causes lust in men years later into adulthood. What is the likelihood of men seeing a busty woman and thinking “Oh man, I like that rack because it reminds me of breastfeeding from my mom.” It’s very symbolic, but not really a feasible idea in the real world.

So perhaps there is something more. Maybe it has something to do with stimulation; perhaps knowing that the breasts hold a pleasure spot for intimate times is in itself intriguing and arousing to our minds. But this doesn’t have anything to do with physical appearance, does it? I figure this idea is more of a mindset thing; after all, vaginas are not exactly nice looking, but it is also a nerve sensitive area, but you don’t see men clambering to see a woman’s cameltoe – not as much as breast cleavage at least.

Well, it has a point.

Maybe people are drawn to breasts because it has been pushed onto us by the media, and society. Maybe over time, we have learned to worship this body part because it’s constantly a hot issue in the press: nip slips, controversy over implants, reductions; it seems to be a big deal, and as people apart of this pop culture heavy world, we tend to become impressionable, and the media is very good at shoving things in our faces whether we want it there or not. Remember when Tara Reid (of American Pie fame) had an incident where her dress strap fell and it exposed her breast? What about when Janet Jackson exposed HER breast to the world at Super Bowl Half-time? The press went insane when those events happened.

Maybe it’s not as in depth as that either. Maybe breasts really are just…pretty. Maybe they are a nice shape. Maybe they simply look nice in a flattering dress, or compliment our hips, or make nice pillows to tired girlfriends and boyfriends. Maybe it’s as simple as that. Whatever it is, it boggles my mind. It truly boggles my mind. The mention of breasts in any conversation is enough to turn mature men into ogling boys; mention you will show off your cleavage, and you will have everyone’s attention for the next five hours. Offer to show off your vagina? ….Well, it just doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it?

“I just bought this nice set of pants, it really complements my crotch.”

…Yeah, that doesn’t sound very alluring.

“I just bought this nice shirt today, it really complements by chest.”

Much better.

As for me? I don’t know exactly why I am drawn to breasts, but I can speculate that it is just the feminine side of me, enjoying my feminine traits. I would be lying if I took a picture of myself with some cleavage showing, and claimed I didn’t want men to notice. Of course women want people to notice, otherwise what is the point of wearing a low cut shirt? Or push up bras, or wonder bras, or corsets? At this point, I rarely get mad if I catch someone staring; I am more prone to feel flattered.

I am going to conclude this blog with a question: Why are breasts great? Are they overrated, or is there something about them that make them amazing? I await to be enlightened.

Posted in Deep Thoughts | 46 Responses »