Maria posted this video in her comment about my last post. You've gotta watch it.
I teared up when I saw it! Big shock, I know. Anyway, a lot of people talked to me about my last post, and it got me thinking about hugging. I think one of the best feelings in the world is a really good hug. I think most people would agree. I did a little research and found that hugging has actually been proven to reduce stress. The act releases oxytocin and lowers blood pressure. In brief, it makes you feel great.
Anyway, this post is a call to action: check out this website and hug somebody. You'll both feel better.
When I wish on things (eyelashes, birthday candles) I wish for other people to be happy. I'm not telling you this because I want you to think I'm a wonderful person (I mean, I am - let's be clear), but I've been thinking about it a lot, and I need to talk about it. I've just come to the conclusion that if everyone else in the world was happy, I'd probably be happier too. I have a hard time believing there's a good reason for all the sadness in the world.
Like, do you ever see someone you just want to hug? I know that sounds kind of creepy, but I'm serious. I see people I want to hug all the time. Like the other day I was in the dining hall. It's in a mostly freshman dorm, so there are a lot of freshmen eating there - duh. And occasionally, I see kids eating alone. And some kids are totally okay with it - mostly upperclassmen who are doing work or grabbing lunch in between classes, but some just aren't, you know? It's like this kid who puts down his dishes at this empty table in a sea of crowded tables and just sits there and bites into his sandwich and eats as fast as he can because you know he just wants to get out of there. But he already skipped breakfast so he wouldn't have to eat alone, so he's starving, and he's looking around wondering if anyone sees that he's alone. And he puts his Ipod in so he can drown out the sounds of people chatting around him, because while that's really what he'd like to be doing at least this way he looks like he's busy. College isn't what he thought it would be. And I just want to stand up and yell "I'll eat with you!!!" But that's probably the last thing he wants - nobody wants a pity lunch date. So I just wish I could hug him and tell him everything's going to get better and that the first year of college is hard, but I promise it's going to get better.
And then last week in one of my classes the girl next to me started having a coughing fit. She's a grad student - tiny, blonde hair - and you could tell she was sick, but she was toughing it out, and she was there. So the teacher's talking, and she starts coughing. Just a little. Like she's trying to stifle it. But she keeps coughing. She drinks water to try to make it stop, but she just coughs more. She's letting out these little coughs when her body really just wants her to hack away and clear her lungs, but she's in the middle of class and everyone will notice if she runs out. So I'm next to her and she's turning red and her shoulders are shaking and she's tearing up as she's trying to stifle this cough and she's getting embarrassed because people are starting to notice, and I just want to say, "It's okay! Who cares about them? It's not your fault you have to cough!! I'm sorry you don't feel good. It's going to get better." Because we've all been there too.
And then the other day I'm walking down Comm Ave, and I walk by this girl who's crying into her cell phone. Like, really crying. And she's just walking down the street, crying quietly, talking to someone, and she just looked like she was in so much pain. Like, life couldn't get any worse. And I felt so sad for her because I've been that girl who cries into her cell phone and feels like the world is ending - in fact, I've been that girl many times in several different countries. Nobody should have to feel so much pain that they can't help but let it out, right there in the middle of the street.
And then yesterday I was watching the Grey's Anatomy I'd missed from Thursday, and, of course, this woman dies when they try to remove like half of her brain or something ,and they have to tell the husband, and he just starts sobbing and saying, "Where's my wife? I want my wife," and I just started bawling - just lying in bed, crying so hard for this imaginary man and his imaginary dead wife. And I wanted to hug him too.
And then finally, when we were in Disney World over the winter break, I saw this family all over our hotel that consisted of a distracted father, a miserable mother, a little girl, and two toddlers. Well, the reason I noticed them everywhere was because the mother was always yelling at this little girl. So one night, Mom and I are walking back to our room, and the miserable mother is a little ahead of us, pushing a double stroller, and the little girl is walking next to it. The little girl runs ahead of the stroller to trigger the automatic door to open, and while she's running she drops the toy she was holding - one of those spinny, light-up things you get at amusement parks - in front of the stroller. "See what you did? Are you happy? Are you happy?" the mother scolds the little girl before snatching the toy away from her. "You just had to run ahead and now look what you did." And I wanted to tap her on the shoulder and be like, "Um, excuse me, what did she do?" I mean, she dropped her toy and the mother had to stop the stroller for half a second so she didn't run it over, but you would have thought something horrible had happened the way this mother talking to her daughter. And the worst part is - she didn't really yell. She was just so mean, like quietly cutting into her daughter with her words. And the little girl looked so, so sad. Five seconds ago she'd been skipping and running, and now she just looked like, adult sad. You know? Like the sadness only adults should have to cope with, never little girls. And I remember just praying that some higher power would help her out in this life because with a mother like that she's going to grow up believing everything is her fault.
So, I don't know what the point of all this is. I've just been thinking lately that I don't understand why life has to have any sadness at all. Why can't we all just achieve our dreams and have the friends we want and the life and love that we want without all the suffering? Horrible, sad things happen to good people all the time, and it's not okay, but I don't really know what to do about it. I used to believe all the, "Everything happens for a reason" b.s., but I don't anymore. There's no reason for all the sadness and embarrassment I talked about above that happens everyday. I don't think it makes us stronger. I think it breaks us down.
I'm starting a new segment on my blog called: WTF. I'm not going to spell out what it stands for (What The F--- oh, you figure it out), but basically whenever I see or hear or learn about something that really makes me angry, it's getting put on my WTF list. Today, boys and girls, we're going to talk a little bit about bottled water.
I decided to do a movie review for the environmental magazine we're creating in my Magazine Workshop class, so I just watched "Flow: For The Love of Water" on my ITunes.
Double you.
Tee.
Eff.
Honestly, part of me didn't want to watch it. I did a ton of research for another story I'm doing on "Clean Coal" (want to know the ending? IT DOESN'T EXIST.) that left me pretty sure my children's children will be dealing with some really scary stuff thanks to global warming. And honestly, I still have nightmares about plastic since I read Susan Casey's "Our Ocean's Are Turning Into Plastic, Are We?". Plus, those"Forever in a Landfill" commercials that are on TV all the time have made me feel so guilty I've actually stopped buying bottled water. But, as it turns out, I have another reason not to buy bottled water. Check out the trailer.
I was seriously shaking by the end of the film. At first I thought it was going to be about water conservation, which it is a little, but it's mostly about who has the right to clean, accessible water. The answer should be that we all do, but unfortunately there are these big water corporations who are managing to make a profit by privatizing water in third world countries. It's SO messed up! And it's not even just the third world countries. They're doing it here too. It's disgusting.
You really need to see this film. Companies like Nestle (owners of Poland Spring, Pellegrino, Perrier), Coca-Cola (owners of Dasani - which is tap water, Fuji Water), and Pepsi (Aquafina - also tap water) are depriving people of one of the essential things humans need to survive, so they can make a buck. The World Bank is loaning billions of dollars to the world's poorest countries so that they can build dams they don't need so big water companies like Suez, Vivendi, and Thames Water can profit. Of course, these poor countries end up poorer and can't pay off the debt! It's a vicious cycle.
Sometimes I get fired up about these things, and then I get a little depressed because I think, "What kind of difference can I really make?" During the film, one of the activists repeats Margaret Mead's famous quote and it gave me chills: "Never doubt that a small group of committed, thoughtful citizens can change the world. Indeed it is the only thing that ever has."
The saddest part, though?
One statistic in the film says that it would cost thirty billion dollars to give safe water to everyone on the planet.
...We spend 3 times that on bottled water in one year.
I make it a point to blog every other day. It's not a point I usually stick to, but it's a point nonetheless. Seeing as I last blogged on Sunday, today would be a blogging day.
But I can't think of anything to write about.
Well, okay, I can think of a few things, but they don't really go together.
First of all, I almost missed my bus this morning. By "almost missed" I mean I was standing at the bus stop waiting for 3 minutes before it came, instead of the usual ten. I had left my apartment and was at the little store downstairs, purchasing my breakfast of a power bar and a strawberry yogurt (they were out of cherry vanilla) when I realized I had left the lunch I packed upstairs. I raced back into my building, pressed the elevator button for the 10th floor about a hundred times (because that makes it go faster) and raced (in heels) back to my apartment where I grabbed my lunch, accidentally knocked over a cleaning lady, and raced (in heels) back to the elevator where I pressed the elevator button for the 1st floor about a hundred times (because that makes it go faster). Then I raced back (in heels) by the security guard (who I'd already said "Hi" to multiple times because of all the back and forth I was doing), and out into the streets of Boston. Then I waited at the bus stop until the bus came. A little anti-climatic, but a thrilling story nonetheless.
In other news, I screwed up horribly at my internship today. I probably shouldn't talk about it (Martha's watching), and I guess it wasn't "horrible" per say, but it was pretty stupid of me, and I looked dumb. Way to go, Tara.
The COM Student Services staff was supposed to go out to dinner at The Cheesecake Factory tonight, but it was postponed because Micha is sick. Each year, in honor of Grad App Season being over, the whole staff goes out on COM's dollar. It's great. And this year I can drink. It's going to be huge.
This morning I woke up to find that Maria had taped words of encouragement to all the mirrors in the apartment. She printed them off this guy's blog, so all of them have a picture of this random guy giving a thumbs up. It's pretty hilarious. For example, one of the pictures says this:
"Those jeans look smokin hot on that ass of yours."
I'm sparing you the more profane ones.
Finally, I had a dream the other night that the Headless Horseman was coming after me, but I wasn't scared - more excited. So, I skipped down a busy street singing Jason Mraz's "You and I."
Sunday, February 15, 2009 5:17 pm Being distracted by The Real Housewives of Orange County.
Soooo, Valentine's Day 09 was rather uneventful. Anyone shocked? Anyone? I came home for the long weekend, so that meant V Day with the fam. My mom and I started our V Day evening by watching Nights in Rodanthe. I thought it was going to be a light, romantic movie. I was wrong. I was looking to be inspired by movie love, but it was hard to through all the tears. My mom and I cried next to each other, while my dad shot us quizzical looks from across the room.
Once the movie ended and I had recovered, I picked up Kaitlyn from her friend's house and crawled into bed. I wasn't really tired though, so I spent some time fooling around on my computer. I did the usual stuff: checked my BU email, my AOL email, went on Facebook, checked the weather, whatever. And then I remembered one of my favorite past times - looking at the Craig's List Missed Connections!
For those of you who don't know (I only recently became acquainted with it myself), the "Missed Connections" link is where people can post messages in hopes of finding someone they "missed." For example, a typical message might look like this:
"To the cute brunette on the B line last night - we made brief eye contact over the crazy man who was mumbling to himself. I wanted to say something to you, but you got off at the next stop, and I missed my chance. I was wearing a Berklee hoodie and holding my guitar case. I'd really like to get to know you better. If you see this, please respond."
Okay, so that's a relatively tame one, but some of them are creepy and outrageous and each one of them is oh so entertaining. I always look in the Boston Missed Connections to see if I can pick out one about me or one of my friends. I haven't found one yet, but I'm still hoping. But then I think: What would I do if one was actually about me?
...probably freak out, blog about it, and then never respond :)
It started just like any other lonely lunch at the internship. I hadn't had time to pack a lunch last night due to my being drunk due to the fact that BU won the Beanpot (See? Not my fault.), so I had purchased a salad and a few other things before hopping on the bus this morning. I was picking out the large kernels of black pepper that were ruining my perfectly good salad when I decided I wanted to read. I get an hour for lunch ("I mean, we're not paying you, so take an hour," said my boss one day), so after the first few days of having nothing to do but read Martha Stewart's blog, I decided to start bringing stuff to read to work.
I rooted around in my giant black bag and pulled out a tattered copy of "The Brain That Changes Itself." At one time, it had been a nice, new, clean book, but after The Great Hot Chocolate Spill of 2/3/09 it wasn't looking so good. I sat there, turning the pages of the book, wondering how I was going to tell my father I had ruined the book he'd let me borrow (...guess I just did) and thinking about The Spill. Everything had just been so WET. Wow, I could just feel the moisture in my hands as I thought about it.
Wait -- I could feel the moisture in my hands.
I dropped my book onto the desk and looked at the slime that was covering my finger tips. Frantic, I threw both my hands into my bag, looking for the source of the slime.
Everything was covered! Swearing under my breath, I threw the contents of my bag onto the floor, but I could not find the source. My lunch wasn't in the bag. Nothing had leaked. It didn't make sense. But a funky, fruity smell was tickling my nostrils as I sat there glaring at the bag, trying to wipe off the slime from my hands. It smelled like a - OH NO.
Fearing the very worst, I slowly unzipped the middle pocket of my bag - the pocket I never use, except that one time weeks ago when I had used it to hold a ...banana. Gagging silently and glancing over the cubicle at my neighbor, I grabbed a plastic bag and scooped out the dripping, blackened contents, tied the bag, and ran to the kitchen. I grabbed a roll of paper towels and sat on the floor of my cubicle, quietly trying to soak up the banana juices. The smell of rotten banana and old hot chocolate were creating an interesting odor. It was kind of good at first, but then not - like when you smell curry and realize its body odor. I finally had to give up when I started getting light headed.
Sitting at my desk, smelling like stale hot chocolate and moldy bananas, I looked at the book. The Brain That Changes Itself. It was mocking me. I had come to the realization while I was in Madrid that I am a forgetful, sometimes irresponsible person, but sometimes I forget that. And then little situations like this happen and remind me.
I would have liked to have pondered the irony of the book and the exploding rotten banana more, but I didn't really have time. Suddenly, I really had to go...
Sunday, February 8, 2009 10:55 am Bowl of apple cinnamon oatmeal...mmmm....
I woke up this morning around 10 and laid in my bed for a half an hour, staring at the ceiling, thinking about my life. This usually is a scary thing (do you people realize I'm turning 30 in nine years???), so I try to avoid doing it. Anyway, as I thought about the busy week ahead, I started thinking about one of the big things in my life that I actually don't mind so much. In fact, it's a thing I rather enjoy...
I really like my job. I mean, do I want to work there after I graduate? GOD, no. But working for COM Student Services, for the most part, makes me smile.
See how cheerful and helpful I look? Don't you just want to ask me a question?
Basically, my job consists of answering students' questions, talking down angry parents on the phone, and filing. Our office also processes all of COM's Graduate School applications, so lately we've been doing a lot of those (hence the reason I was in COM both days last weekend). Last year, I was promoted to Senior Office Assistant (big moment in my life). This basically means I get to tell the other office assistants what to do. I don't really do it, but it's nice to know that I can.
Just look at me in action...
What makes my job so great isn't really the job itself. I tell my boss, Bryan, I'm quitting every other day, actually. This usually happens when any one of the following things happens: the heat is broken in COM and it's 80 degrees for a week straight in the office; there's a dead mouse rotting somewhere in the office that no one can find; it's graduate application season; a parent gets mad at me on the phone because their son or daughter is too stupid to go abroad or do an internship or, you know, return to school the following semester; a student gets mad at me because I tell them a class won't count for a requirement or they can't have the appointment time they want or they can't see an advisor this second, etc. After any of these situations I usually announce that I'm quitting and walk out. I always return though. Why? I think because the people I work with make dealing with obnoxious parents and annoying students worth it.
And I need money.
Love, Tara
Storypeople quote that sums up my life right now:
"Money Matters"
I think of it as an opportunity to find out how much money means to me, she said. So far, it means a lot more than I think is probably healthy.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009 8:08 pm In front of my computer, duh.
I had a little escapado this morning. The word "escapado," it turns out, has no meaning in English or in Spanish, but my family came up with it when we were vacationing in Cancun a few years ago. Our definition of an "escapado" is an "escapade" or a mishap of some kind. Now, every vacation we take together we laugh about all of the escapados we have endured on past vacations. Riding the bus this morning wasn't exactly a vacation, but there was certainly a mishap - so it counts.
I walked on to the 57 bus to Watertown Yard at precisely 8:10 (read: the bus was a minute late). I got a seat towards the front, texted my dad, and clicked on my Ipod. Through Brighton we sped until, over the sounds of Ben Lee's "Catch My Disease," I hear a woman say, "You're dripping," as she points to my bag. I look down and, to my horror, realize my hot chocolate has spilled through my bag, onto my leg, and onto the floor and the seat beside me. I thank her and proceed to panic.
Now, I know you're asking yourself, "Tara, why would you put a thermos of hot chocolate in your bag? Why wouldn't you just hold it?" Because! I got the thermos for Christmas and it has this leak guard thing that makes it spill proof! ...Unless you screw the cap on wrong. Apparently, in my rush to get ready this morning I had just thrown the cap on like some reckless daredevil. And now, as my fellow passengers watched me try to sop up liquid from my soaked pants, I was paying.
"How did you not feel it??" my mother asked me later. I really don't know. Maybe it was the fact that the hot chocolate was, well, hot, so I didn't notice the difference in temperature on my leg. Maybe I was distracted by Ben Lee's melodious voice. It's hard to say.
But I did feel it when we pulled into Watertown Yard, and I stepped off the bus. Suddenly, I was very cold - and not just where the spot was on my thigh. I was cold, well, in some rather private places. Confused, I took off my glove and placed a hand on my butt. ALL WET. Horrified, I twisted around (good thing I'm flexible) to see that the entire seat of my pants was a dark, wet splotch. I had been sitting in hot chocolate for the entire bus ride.
Body + Soul has an article in the March issue about thinking positively. One of the things you're not supposed to do when things go wrong is say, "This is the story of my life."
But it's kind of hard not to when you're a 21-year-old girl, walking down the street, looking like you wet your pants.
Have you heard about this new show called "The United States of Tara?" It's about this suburban mom (Toni Collette) who has multiple personalities. I think. Anyway, I was a little unhappy when my mom told me about it because I don't like other people having my name, but I like Toni Collette and when I watched the trailer I felt I could relate a little. Check it out below.
I mean, I don't actually have multiple personalities, but sometimes I feel like I do. And one of her personalities is "T"! How great is that? Anyway, watching the trailer inspired me to explore my own many personalities. Let's take a look at this weekend.
Friday, at my internship, I was "Tara the Intern," a smart, young college student who's eager to please. She enjoys spending time in her cubicle, looking up the recommended daily allowances (RDA) of things like folate and riboflavin. She doesn't mind spending the day fact-checking a story on apricots, and she enjoys the simple things, like the organic ylang ylang lotion in the bathroom. She tries not to get flustered when she messes up or when editors she's already met introduce themselves for the third time. She smiles at anything anyone says. She eats lunch alone in her cubicle, but it's okay. She's always okay.
Friday evening, I was "Tara the Down-trodden College Student." She runs in heels, bundled in her winter coat, pashmina, and glittons to make the 5:07 bus that always leaves at 5:06. She waits in line and pays her fare. She sits toward the front of the bus and checks her phone. She listens to her Ipod. She skips that sad songs because they make her feel especially sad at the end of the day. People on the bus watch her. She wishes they wouldn't. After getting stuck in Brighton because of a car accident, she finally makes it back to her dorm after an hour and fifteen minutes on the bus. She's sad and frustrated and a little angry. Then she walks into her suite and becomes...
"Girl!" In her common room she sees Christina with her head in Maria's lap as Maria fools around on her computer. Noelle is in a chair looking at a magazine. They listen to her as she collapses on the couch and vents about her day. They tell her to take deep breaths and make her laugh. They talk about the night before and plans for the weekend and life in general and order dinner from T. Anthony's. She laughs and feels happy for the first time all day.
That night, she becomes "That Girl at the Gym." She's too tired to go out but knows a workout will make her feel better. The gym is pretty empty - it's Friday night - but it's perfect. She hops on the elliptical and listens to her Work Out playlist. She feels good. She watches the televisions above her and gets sucked in to two different tv shows. There's some kind of Law & Order type show about this child molester who abducts a little girl. She hates shows like this, but she can't stop watching. Two televisions over, there's some kind of army version of Law & Order about a platoon leader accused of raping a woman in his squad. She hates shows like this too. She wishes someone would change the channel. No one does. She gets so involved in these shows she finds herself gasping at certain parts. At one point the child molester show gets pretty intense - the police are searching the house the little girl is in - and she finds herself yelling "Oh no!" People on other machines look at her. She's a little embarrassed. A similar thing happens later when the child molester is shooting at the police and, like a reflex, she brings her hands up to cover her face. She's literally on the elliptical, covering her eyes. She's a little embarrassed after that too. She works out twice as long as she'd planned because she wants to see how the shows end. She takes five minutes to wipe down the elliptical so she can see how things turn out with this other girl who was abducted 8 years ago and had been living with the child molester. The girl, now 16 and returned to her parents, used to love astronomy, so the last scene is her looking through a telescope and turning to her dad and saying "The stars are still there." She starts to cry and quickly leaves the gym.
The next day, she's "COM Student Services Senior Office Assistant." Forced to work on a Saturday because the deadline for Graduate School applications is Sunday, she dutifully shows up to the office 20 minutes late. The office is crazy, but fun. She laughs a lot. She loves all of the people she works with and likes having a sense of purpose. Everyone works on applications and jokes around and eats take-out. And she's getting paid! People are genuinely glad to have her around. She loves her job. Even on a Saturday.
That afternoon, she's "Bargain-hunter." She goes off to the grocery store with Maria, after printing off coupons from couponmom.com and listening to Maria read off sales from the Shaw's flyer. She spends about an hour at the grocery store, comparing prices and going through the grocery list she has on her Blackberry. She comes home, stocks her cupboard shelves, and updates her budget, satisfied.
That night, she's "Going-out Tara." She dances around her room while she selects an outfit and puts on make-up. She texts and calls friends to make plans. She pregames in the common room with her roommates and makes predictions for the night. They take pictures and laugh. They venture to the Fanueil Hall area and go to two different bars. She dances and sings to the live band at the Tap. By the end of the night she can hardly hear. It's awesome.
Later, as her and her friends try to hail a cab to go home, she becomes "The Bitch." Just as she's hailed a cab, a guy steps in front of her and tries to steal it. She get's angry. She says "Are you f*cking kidding me?" He pretends not to hear her. His friend laughs. It's not funny. She puts her hand on the door handle he's trying to grab, looks him in the eye and says, "No, you've got to be f*cking kidding me. Move." He laughs uncomfortably. She and her friends get in the cab. She wishes guys in Boston weren't such assholes.
And now I'm just back to being me again. The girl who went to work again at COM this morning and then met her sister and dad for lunch at Noodle Street and came back and decided to blog because she likes to. She's big on communicating. Her dad calls her "the glue" because she likes to bring people together. She texts her mom every night when she gets back to her dorm because she knows her mom worries. She likes to go to The Cheesecake Factory at the Prudential with Steph, and she calls Kaitlyn "Shnatertot," and isn't really sure why. She likes to get lunch in the Warren dining hall with Noelle on Mondays, and one of her favorite things to do is to find a clean spot on Maria's floor, sit there, and complain about her life. She's happiest on the weekend and is a little scared that she can't picture what her life will be like past May. But she's a 21 year old girl in her senior year of college with a great job, an solid internship, hilarious friends, and a supportive family, so she's happy. And pretty lucky.
