Dear Reader,

So a little about me: I really don’t like zodiac signs. To be fair, I haven’t looked that much into astrology and everything I know about horoscopes comes from the last page of magazines like Seventeen and GL.

I just can’t get behind the idea that every person who was born within the same 30 days or whatever have the same personalities or are living lives by the same design.

It’s kind of become a running joke between Sarah and I, actually. When we see people retweet stuff like “the signs as breakfast cereals,” or “how to make the signs happy!!!” we’ll go through the lists and decide who we are first and then find out, oh my god I’m such an aquarius! 

I’m not. I’m a virgo.


According to Universal Psychic Guild, this means a few things. My element is Earth and my stone is Sapphire (whatever those mean–I do like the stone, though), and my secret desire is to love and be loved in return. If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you might be thinking, wow, that’s pretty spot on.

But then it says my two defining traits are caring & confident.


We know of my confidence issues, but honestly, I don’t think I’m that caring. Like, I care, but when you grow up in the same household as Sarah, you understand what it truly means to be a caring person, and that’s just not me. It says virgos are givers, and that’s just something I’ve never identified as. Again, it’s not like I just take and take, but I don’t think caring and confident are my two defining qualities.

In fact, I think I’m more of a sagittarius–optimistic and honest. But I wasn’t born in November/December, so I guess I don’t seek adventure and independence as much as I’d like to think.

At the same time, though, having the virgin as my symbol is very fitting.

Anyway, the reason why I’m even writing this post in the first place is because someone I follow retweeted “signs as people I know in real life” and the first two under Virgo are so spot on–and not like “loves dogs more than people” because, like, who doesn’t?

The first two are “big time stalker yet all your crushes suck” (true in the sense that I don’t stalk the people that everyone is obsessed with… but obviously don’t think my crushes suck) and “you have a hard time looking people in the eye and prefer to stare intensely when they’re looking away.”

The reason why this made me stop and think about the signs is because I didn’t think other people do the last one! I am constantly complaining about how eye contact is hard, but mostly just to Sarah because not a lot of people relate to that. So, honestly, I just kind of thought it was an ADD thing or something, but now I’m like, wait, is this a Virgo thing?

Which I hate thinking, honestly, because I’m sure not every person born between August 22 and September 22 has trouble looking at people in the eyes, but it just made me think, you know?

But then Sagittarius is “you can accumulate loads and loads of shit bc you think you’ll need/miss it later” and Pisces is “you need to be told and told again” and Taurus is “you cheat at board games” so here I am back to square one.

Again, don’t know where I’m going with this, but if you stayed until this end, here’s something I thought was funny: someone the other day tweeted that they used to think hepatitis was a Greek God.

I don’t know what to do with that, but it made me chuckle.





Dear Reader,

College is hard, you guys.

Before I went, people told me that classes were going to be difficult, but there are quite a few things that they didn’t disclaim. For example, I was under the impression that each of my classes would have an exam or two–maybe a project, maybe a paper–and those would make up the majority of my grade. Homework would no longer be a thing.

That is not correct.

I have nightly homework for each class, but only two of them don’t check. In three of my classes, I’m expected to read a few articles or a chapter or something, and then write a reflection or a summary or a notecard with a question on it–just to prove that I read it.

Oh and also, that’s what homework is now. Reading. So much reading. I have to read two to three articles every class for geography. I have to read chapters in my textbook for my journalism class and my media class and my rhetorical analysis class. I have to read Shakespeare for my Shakespeare class (obviously), and I have to read books, articles, graphic novels, and everything under the sun for my literacy class. Which makes sense.


But seriously, when I’m a teacher and kids are complaining about my class and asking why we have to read so much, I’ll just ask them: do you want to go to college? Because if yes, I don’t care what you’re majoring in, you’re going to be reading. I’ve talked to my friends in the business school and my friends who are pre-med and my friends in engineering and it’s all just reading.

Prepare yourself.

And then finally, midterm week isn’t a thing. Not really. And if it is a thing, it’s not the same for everyone. I thought last week was midterm week because I had a paper due in one class and an exam in another. Then I thought this week might be in because I had an actual midterm exam in one class and a project due in another. But now I’m pretty sure it’s next week because I have two exams and two projects due.

But that’s the thing: you don’t get one week of lots of work and then a week of break. You get work on top of work on top of work. And maybe it’s just because I’m taking six classes, but I think some of it also has to do with these teachers. I mean, we had a project due in one class and in that same class, we have an exam next week. And then I had a rhetoric exam on Monday, and he just assigned our next paper in the next class.

So, basically, I just had to vent. And sort of explain why I haven’t been writing blog posts or uploading videos. And also warn anyone who has a completely different idea of what college will be like. Because this is my reality, and I was not expecting of it.

Alright, well this was a nice 15-minute break, but I’m gonna go now. Get my nose back to the grindstone.

Is that something people still say?



Entirely Unhelpful

Dear Reader, 

I love it when friends come to me with problems. Whether they come seeking advice or just wanting a listening ear, it’s a good thing to feel needed. And appreciated. What I hate is that my friends have these problems. 

Sure, there are the simple cases when someone’s freaking out because they failed their math test or they missed curfew and they just need to be reminded of what matters–a little reality-check and things calm down. Or when my sister comes home from dance, talking a mile a minute about what dramatic episodes happened today. I’ll chime in every once in a while with a helpful tip or a comment to supply as some sort of comedic relief, but the reason she comes to me is because she just wants to rant. And she wants someone to listen. 

I can handle those situations. 

But how do I tell a friend that it’s going to be alright when they’re not allowed to pick their own college, choose their own major, or even live on campus? When they break down on decision day because, while all of the other seniors got to make their own decisions, regarding their own futures, my friend didn’t get to make theirs. 

Or when a friend comes to me, stressed and distraught because both of their grandparents are dying. I can’t say everything’s going to be okay because, eventually, they’ll both die. But I can’t say that either because that is extremely insensitive and unnecessary to mention. I can’t tell them that I’ve been there, because I haven’t, and I can’t say that I know what they’re dealing with, because I don’t. So is it all I can do to say, “aww that’s sucks,” in as many different variations possible? 

Or how about when a friend comes to me with money problems? Stressed out of their minds because college is expensive! And is it worth it? To be in debt years after graduating with a degree that in no way guarantees them a job after the thousands of dollars are spent. How can I answer this question when the answer is so different for me? 

How do I help my friends? 

I try so hard to be a good friend to these people who don’t deserve these hardships, but there’s got to be more that I can say! More that I can do to help them deal with these problems. 

And maybe I’m just unprepared. But how awful is it for me to sulk because I am privileged and blessed with so many wonderful things in my life? My college years are practically paid for and I get the freedom to study what I want. My grandparents are (touch wood) alive and well and I did nothing to deserve this. Just like these good people did nothing to deserve these unfortunate circumstances. 

And maybe I’m not given these burdens because I can’t handle it. After all, I get stressed enough worried about petty problems involving over-scheduling and battling laziness. I still despise having to take ADD medicine every morning, while there are people out there dealing with much worse illnesses. 

In no way am I trying to sound like I want these awful things to happen to me–I am truly thankful for everything I have and everything that I don’t have to worry about. But when I talk to these friends, how do I empathize with real life struggles while I, myself, hardly know the half of it.

I don’t know what the point of this entry is. It just all seems wrong to me. Even me, sitting here in my room, writing about how I’m sad that I can’t help my friends. Meanwhile, my friends are sitting in their own rooms, being sad for much better reasons.

I just want to help them. I want to say the right things to make them feel better and, if they fall apart, I want to be able to pick up their pieces. Sure, I want to empathize and lead by example and be strong enough for all of us, but I shouldn’t spend my nights practically wishing things had been harder.

Because I think we do that sometimes–wish things were a bit harder.

It’s like that line from “Birds” by Chef’Special: “I wish I was from a broken home to explain the fact that I’m cold and alone. But my family is golden so it’s probably just my own fault again.” 

I think we’re all a bit messed up, and we’re looking for any validation as to why. And those of us who can’t find any can’t help but wonder where we went wrong. 

And then I think the media tends to glorify these stories. Stories of struggle and triumph and strength. Jim Carrey and Oprah Winfrey and all these fictional stories of girls and boys who are depressed or ill or scarred. But they become these great characters, and they’re given happy endings. 

Well, I think I’ve strayed far enough away from the point I was trying to make. And it’s too late and I’m too lazy to do anything about it now. So I’ll just reiterate what I’ve been trying to say. 

I’m sorry that bad things happen to good people and I’m sorry that I can’t always help in the way I’m supposed to. But I’ll keep trying.