I'm going through what I like to call a "Happy Phase" in my life.
Really, everything's looking up. I really believe in karmic cycles, and with the amount of bullshit that I've been through so far, it's about time I was inundated with happy moments in the same way I was with sad ones.
On the academic front, the last time I was really upset was when my counsellor didn't nominate me for the Boston University Presidential Scholarship, which is a scholarship for students of outstanding academic and extracurricular merit wherein all four years of tuition are paid for and taken care of. It was like my ticket to freedom, and she didn't nominate me for it. And of course applying for financial aid was not an option because my parents couldn't demonstrate need as such since they do have enough money to pay for one year of college. What those idiots don't take into consideration is that paying for one year of college doesn't mean they don't need money to pay for the other three! Geniuses.
So anyway, I was unsuspectingly wandering along in the corridor when the same counsellor who didn't nominate me for the Presidential was passing. So she stops me and says "Hey, congratulations!" and I automatically said "thanks" because I figured she heard about Emerson or my Pace scholarship. That was when she said "Half scholarship to Boston University! That's brilliant!". I was really, REALLY not expecting that. So before I could process the information, I said, "WHAT?!??!!?!!?! REALLY!!?!?!?! ME?!?!" (So much for being cool about it). Aaaand I just about resisted the urge to dance around her in a circle and go "IN YOUR FACE BIYATCH!"
Hmm. But I exercised great self-restraint and managed not to do that.
I'm SO HAPPY!!!!! (Even though I got two rejections: Northwestern and Berkeley. Psssh.)
This really IS a refreshing change from the academic rat race I usually end up losing all the time.
Oh, and I almost forgot. I have a boyfriend, too, now. =] & he's awesome.
<3
Me
- BeautyInTheBreakdown *
- Boston, Massachussetts, United States
- I'm not limited to the blank canvas I was born as. My life is an eclectic melange of vivid colour. I float in a sea of multifarious musings, ranging from worlds of lime green skies and copper stars to winged objects and fairy dust. I am the flirtatiousness of cherry chap-stick, the depths of the cerulean ocean and the violet skies of Monet. I am the brooding dark green of dense foliage, the crimson tint in a blushing girl’s cheeks; the purple of bruised limbs. The complexity of my thoughts keeps evolving, I grow and shrink alternately. I cannot be contained or restrained. The French language is my drug and acne is my worst enemy. I laugh a little too much and am a romantic in the extreme sense. I’m likely to steal the stars from the sky, but my aims remain grounded in reality. I can’t be pigeonholed into a single stereotype, because all labels apply to me at different points in time.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Things That Remind Me of You
- The colour pink
- Big happy smiles
- Blonde hair
- Cliffs
- Backpack whistles
- Potted plants
- Geography textbooks
- Libraries
- Sev puri
- Obese 14 year olds
- Mentally unbalanced teachers
- Tall people
- "Oh hello!"
- Aviators
:) You!
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Fear
There are times I'm still scared.
Times I fear losing my grip, losing everything. Losing everything I've ever worked for, through memory loss, or disease, or hurt, or something. Something. Anything could happen. We live in a world of possibilities, after all.
Times like right now, when I worry about things. When my mom's yelling doesn't cease... when her psychotic fits reach a new level. I can't always handle it, and I'm not allowed to cope with it either. I can't whine about it as much as I'd like to, because that would make me intolerable. It would.
It's times like just now when I remember you. Times i just feel like running into your arms like nothing happened and bawling my eyes out, tugging on your sleeve to make you shake off the apathy and hate you've reserved for me and save me, save me, save me. This is the cue for all that repressed hurt and bitterness to creep slowly back to the surface and seep into every surface of my body, leaving me raw and vulnerable, fragile, incomplete, barren and helpless. I hate being this way. I hate it.
Whenever one door opens, another one closes, it seems.
The truth is, I'm weak. I'm not going to deny this anymore, because I AM weak. I mean, look at me, it's pathetic, the way I break down and cry and come here and whine about my life to nobody in particular - nobody who can help. Write all these fucking emo blog posts on an anonymous blog which puts a humorous spin on everything, because that's what blogs are supposed to do, right?
What is the value of a good IB score when I can't control anything in my immediate environment?
It's just a fucking number. It doesn't prove anything about me, except for the fact that I can look good on paper.
Way to go, Sasha.
Really.
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