Try Pod

I've been listening to NPR since high school because NPR is the best thing that has ever happened in US history, but I didn't start regularly listening to podcasts until I got to college. I started off with the same segments I would listen to at home, you know the classics: "Fresh Air" and "This American Life," but I needed more information and I do so much reading as is that I couldn't get my eyes to read Google News. So I started listening to podcasts that way I can find out what's happening while I walk to class.

My podcast subscriptions have increased substantially in the past few months because once you have one politics podcast, you really need them all just to see how other organizations are spinning/describing the situation.

It also happens that March is the month for a podcast campaign called Try Pod where you're meant to suggest your favorite podcasts to people who don't already listen to podcasts. (I know March is pretty much over, but listen, I had three midterms this month, so I didn't really have time to write anything and Spring Break JUST started so I'm writing this now.)

Ira Glass, the King of Podcasts, posses with Tavi Gevinson, the Queen of Magazines and Blogging

First, I'm sure you're wondering "Maame, how can I find podcasts to listen to?"
Don't worry--I got you. If you have an iPhone there is the podcast app, it's purple and comes with your phone. If you have an android I believe Google Play has a podcast app, and if for some reason you don't have a phone most podcasts have websites where they upload there content. NPR also created an app called NPR One with most of their podcasts as well as live radio.

Secondly, I know you're thinking "Maame, I don't know where to start!"
Again--chillax, I'm here for that. Here is a list of my favorite podcasts that I think you should all listen to according to genres that I'm going to make up.

This has since spiraled out of control and it's safe to say that I am addicted to podcasts, which isn't the worst thing ever--I could be addicted to crack or something. Anyway, I just spend all of my quiet time listening to podcasts: call me a podcast connoisseur so I'm going to grace you with my favorite pods. I am about to save you from your podcast-less misery with a list of my favorite podcasts.

PLUG YOUR EARPODS IN!

Classic Pods

"This American Life" 
NPR's "This American Life" has been running the game since 1995 when it came out. It's for the most part nonfiction stories about ... American lives ... it's kind of it the title (lol). Anyway, I really enjoy it because every week they bring you 3-4 stories that are loosely connected by one theme and they're always interesting. This is the best podcast out there if you ask me, but I'm also extremely bias; I wrote one of my college essays about the creator, Ira Glass (and got waitlisted, a bunch of haters).

"Serial"
The definition of a true crime podcast lives in the "This American Life" spin off  "Serial." Host Sarah Koenig picks a crime and speaks with as many people involved to try to solve it without really solving it. I listened to the first season before I really understood what was going on in the whole podcast scene. The life blood of podcasting lives in TAL and its related content.

"Planet Money"
Planet Money is an amazing podcast about straight up economics hostest by Robert Smith and Stacy Vanek Smith. They teach about the markets and how public policy affects it, and everything in between. One time they went to Kansas and bought a bunch of crude oil, refined it, sold it, and went to the gas station where it was being sold, all while explaining how the oil market works from start to finish. If you're into economics its a party.

"Revisionist History"
Y'all know Malcolm Gladwell? Yeah, well he has a podcast where he just goes on about a bunch of interesting things in classic Gladwell fashion. Weird topics like 18th century art, Princeton's racist-titled school of public policy, a menonite pastor with a son who's gay. Just listen to it.

Poli Pods

"Pod Save America"
If you are a classic Obama hack listen up right here and right now. A bunch of ex-Obama staffers (Jon Favreau, Jon Lovett, Tommy Vietor and Dan Pfeiffer) sit down in Jon Favreau's living room or something and talk about politics for the week in a really funny, but utlra-progressive way. They started a media company and now they just pump out new podcasts like every week it feels like. If you like a bunch of young retired people make political jokes you'll love it.

"The Ezra Klein Show"
Technically, I am an Independent, but that has never stopped me from basically being a Democrat, so all of my poli pods are left leaning. Ezra Klein is the editor and chief of Vox News, and his unimaginative title doesn't give the actual podcast credit; each episode he has a guest who's usually super accomplished in journalism, academia, or government come and talk to him a bunch of nothing really, but because they're so interesting you don't even mind.

Weird Pods

"Lizard People"
It's a fake conspiracy podcast and as a conspiracy denier, I'm down to drag a few of them. It's pretty new and the host Kate Hempstead is kind of bad at sticking to the topic. I wish that maybe they would stop focusing on completely useless stuff, but once they get into it boy is it interesting. I like the newer episodes more than the older one's because Hempstead is still getting used to podcasting. I think it's an up-and-comer.

"S Town"
A producer from "Serial" and "This American Life" got a few emails from a man in Alabama asking him to help investigate a murder. I have no idea why Brian Reed thought this was a good idea, but he went down from New York City to take a look. It's a very funny and equally sad podcast about death, the South, clocks, and some poison. It's a seven part series in hour long episodes and I finished the whole thing in two days.

"So Many White Guys"
If you listen to podcasts enough you'll begin to notice a trend: most of the big hosts are white men. Ira--white; the guys from Pod Save America 4/4 white; Freakonomics--Anglo Saxons; S-Town--from the caucus region. So, you can imagine being a black woman in the podcast game and only hearing stories told from one demographic, so Phoebe Robinson is changing that. Each season she interviews people who are not straight, white men until the very last episode where she interviews the token white man. The past season she had two token white men by accident, including Tom Hanks. I started listening to the podcast for its name, but I continue to listen because Robinson is just so funny.

The Fierce Urgency of Now

After the 2016 presidential election I felt defeated; I think a lot of young people did. I had watched the last two elections work out the way I, and the adults around me, wanted them to. A lot of us were convinced by the last eight years that hope and change and a sense of "we-ness" would prevail as it had twice before. "Love trumps hate," seemed so obvious, I thought it would be proven on election night. I believed in an America that was constantly breaking boundaries we never thought we'd overcome; I thought we could only go forward.

I was wrong. That new aged thinking, as it so often does, failed.

The weeks after the election went by too quickly, and the days since Trump's inauguration have gone too slowly.

I think if anything, almost by force, this past election has made me more proactive and forced me to mature. Prior to Trump's win, I let a lot of other people do a lot of the work; and I only did things when it was convenient to me, because I always thought it would just work out--like it always did.

Martin Luther King Jr. once said, "the moral arch of the universe is long, but it bends toward justice." I used to think it bent that way on its own, that it would just get better because it had to; I no longer think that's true.

The moral arch bends toward justice, not because that's the natural order, but because we force it that way. We have to constantly work against the prejudice and the hatred that can so easily move the arch in the wrong direction. Instead of thinking of that Dr. King quote in terms of how it must be, I think of it as how it is and how it ought to be, where we should be moving toward.

Since the inauguration, I find myself watching old Barack Obama speeches; my favorites are from his 2008 presidential campaign and first term. I think those speeches are the most fitting because then, just like now, people felt a sense of hopelessness; and just like nearly a decade ago, his words inspire me.

Me at my first anti-Trump protest.

In November I felt beaten down and almost like I would have to keep my head down and just survive the next four years. At the Jefferson Jackson Dinner for the 2008 presidential election, then-candidate Obama referenced Dr. King's belief in the "fierce urgency of now."

The "fierce urgency of now" was part of Dr. King's "I Have a Dream" speech, in the part the teachers don't tell you about. It's all about how there isn't time to waste because every minute spent waiting is another second where people are getting hurt. Those words really set a fire off in me.

Let's face it we are being led by an incompetent and malevolent man. The executive order banning Muslims was really the last straw for me; and the roll out for it was proof enough that the administration does not care about human beings who do not fit into some narrow rigid definition of Americanism, and it's scary if you don't fit perfectly within it.

I'm sure we'll make it through, collectively as a country, we will survive these four years; but I worry for the people who have and continue to get hurt. Relatively small things like how someone told my brother to go back to Africa or how kids on twitter say the most racist things now-a-days. And bigger deals like how people were blocked from entering the country, families being ripped apart in ICE raids, the possibility of hundreds of thousands going without health insurance.

There's a constant lull of worry sitting in the pit of my stomach, but instead of allowing it to hold me back, I'm letting it push me forward.

I've signed up to volunteer at organizations the Trump administration doesn't want to continue. I'm getting over my fear of needles to donate blood. I've called my senators and the White House probably over 100 times now. I learning more about what goes on in Washington D.C.--ask my friends I'm always listening to a podcast now. I feel as though I'm helping to bend the moral arch, instead of just being a bystander.

As I start mobilizing and see others a think about the brokenhearted girl sitting in Ujamaa back in November, I wish she knew the community that was forming around her. I wish she knew that the Women's March on Washington would be the biggest protest in US history--I wish she knew the collective power of the people bending the moral arch alongside her. I wish she knew her own power.

I wish she knew that she would feel the fierce urgency of now.

Moving Forward

I'm honored. I'm disappointed. I'm scared. I'm finding comfort.

I'm honored to have cast my first vote in a presidential election in favor of Hillary Rodham Clinton, the most qualified person for the job this country has ever seen. I caucused for Hillary, I donated to her campaign, I made buttons, I did what I could and I'm honored to have done it. I'm so glad that my first vote went to a woman who truly wanted to help this nation; a person who ran a campaign built on unity, not the destruction of the "other."

The Hillary button I made and
pinned to my backpack
in the weeks leading up to the election.

But I'm disappointed in our country. I knew that there was so much more to do, but I didn't realize the power of white supremacy. This nation elected a candidate backed by the KKK and other neo-Nazi, white supremacist groups. We thought we had come so far, but it's clear that with every step forward there are four steps back.

I'm scared for myself, I'm scared for women, immigrants, Muslims, POC, LBGT+, and disabled people. I don't feel safe in the country I have called home for so long. Last night I was surrounded by so many people but we all felt so alone; our country abandoned us. I walked out of my dorm today and I was afraid of the people I met; I was unsure of who to trust, who actually cares about me, who was on my side, I still am.

After a restless, tear-filled night, followed by a stressful, tear-filled morning, I sat in my adviser's office with tissues in both hands trying to figure out where we go from here. How do we regroup? How do we look forward? Earlier, I broke down and subsequently shut down: I was distraught. But in his words I found comfort, and I realized that it was more prevalent than I thought. I'm finding some comfort in the people who support me and in those that I support. I'm finding some comfort in my tears. I'm finding some comfort in my Lord. Soon, I will begin to heal, but for now I will grieve.

Me, on Nov. 8, 2016,
holding my "I voted" sticker.

I can't say that I believe Trump was the best thing for our county, but he is what we'll have this January. I keep hearing a lot of people promise to leave, but  I can't leave this country. McGill is a fine institution, but I'm going to stay here (even though, I will admit, I checked the transfer policy for international students). I'm going to fight: Trump may have won this election but we can not let the ideologies he normalized remain popular opinions.

After the Constitutional Convention Benjamin Franklin said we have "a republic, if you can keep it."

"If you can keep it." 

Ben Franklin was a pretty terrible person, but he got at least one thing right. Our republic exists because of us, and if we leave, or stop pushing for equality and acceptance, or give up on it, we threaten the livelihood of this nation.

Can we?

I'm staying in the US, I'm staying at my university, I'm not giving up. I'm trying to wrestle with what the future will bring and I'm scared, but I am not losing hope in what this country can be. You shouldn't lose hope either.

Maame's College Extravaganza: Where is She Now

Hello...it's me...I haven't made a blog post in six months. I would like to tell you that I was taking a hiatus or that I was really busy, but really I just got really lazy after college decisions came out if I am being completely honest here. Ok let's debrief: I picked a college fun fact, I left Kansas for a state governed by a Kennedy (technically an ex-Kennedy, but it's water under the bridge to me). The freshman fifteen has not happened yet, actually here is what I look like now:

An actual photo of me, taken last week.

I accidentally stumbled on one of my old College Extravaganza posts, and now that I've been living on campus for nearly two months, I'm a seasoned professional of college life. During my visit to Cornell a year ago, I was really taken aback by how hilly it was. I remain completely taken aback by the hills. I also gave the geofilters a 6/10: I stand behind that. However, after becoming a student here with a Cornell water bottle and all, I've learned that the backwards-walking tour guide skipped a few things.

1. There are spiders everywhere. I'm not sure if it's just my hall or if Ithaca, NY sits on an ancient spider birthing place, but I cannot escape the spiders and it's killing me. Big spiders, little spiders, reoccurring spiders--you think you killed them but somehow they come back.
2. I swear every day on campus is a fashion show. You really can't leave your dorm for anything unless you are fully prepared for a fashion photographer to snap a picture of you. When it's sunny, rainy, overcast, cold, warm, you name it--everybody is well dressed. I wore sweatpants to class today and I couldn't even look anyone in the eye because I look like a bum. It's a struggle because classes are already hard as it is and on top of that you have to look put together.
3. Kansas is apparently a Southern tropical state. Around-hmmm- 98% of Cornell undergraduates are from Long Island alone, so when I tell people I'm from Kansas they are really shocked, then they make Wizard of Oz jokes, until finally they start to ask questions. I really thought I had heard it all before until people started asking me about non-Dorothy related information.
   
   

   "Does it snow in Kansas?"
   "Where's Kansas?"
   "Do you live on a farm?" pic.twitter.com/jxbg7zJJUU

   — Maud Maame (@duhmaame) September 6, 2016

4. 2am is a really good time. All of my assignments require a lot of reading and between tanking my exams or being slightly sleep deprived, I've chosen the latter. 2am is very chill: it's earlier than the 4am panic that comes with a frantic all nighter, the spiders have gone to sleep, my hall us usually quiet, and by that point I'm so tired I just hunker down and focus because I want to sleep.
5. 9am is a horrible time. I have a 9am class twice a week, and every day when my alarm goes off at 8, I feel like I'm being dragged into the inner-most circle of Dante's Inferno until I remember the per-class price of my lecture; that's when I finally wake up. 
6. I'm spoiled by Cornell Dining. I knew prior to attending that Cornell has really good dining hall food, but I didn't know how much it would affect me until I was complaining about my sirloin steak being overcooked. I'm going to leave it at that.
7. Patagonia is a big deal??? I'm not entirely sure why???
8. Cornell-made ice cream is essentially sugar mixed with frozen butter???

The best thing about Cornell so far though is how helpful people have been; with the exception of the few boys I once overheard talking about how helping people is stupid. Maybe it's because I scream "freshman." Or maybe it's because everybody thinks I'm this poor, sad wheat farmer from Kansas. I'm not sure--but every time I get lost I always manage to find someone willing to help me and that really nice. 

Now for Cornell at a glance: The geofilters have improved slightly, but still nothing on Lawrence's improved filters, so the 6/10 stands. I'm giving every single walkway that is at anytime uphill a 0/10 because I actually hate them and I don't want toned legs; I want comfort. As for my classes they'll all receive an 8/10 because I like them, but they're stressful. 

One Art

When I completed the bulk of my college applications this past January at nearly 2 am, I left my desk in my room, went to my living room, put on my favorite movie score and cried. That sounds really weird, finishing such a tedious thing should be almost euphoric--I'm about to start the next chapter of my life--but it felt very bittersweet.

For me, it came down to location: every school I applied to (that day) was in the East Coast, so if I got what I wanted, I was moving 1,500 miles away. And it hit me all then, really hit me, but I didn't know what to do so I cried. It's not like I wasn't excited to move, I'm still excited to move, but I was thinking about how nearly everyone else was going to stay at least in Midwest, and I thought about how when I come home to visit everything will have changed without me.

Now that the college application process is over, Ivy day is over, I'm pretty sure I know where I'm going in the Fall (75% sure). I think back in January I was really scared of change, and I still am to be honest, but I'm doing a better job of coping with my fear. I kept thinking about what I'd be missing: my family, my friends, my hometown; and didn't think about what I would be gaining in return: a stellar education, new friends, a new experience.

There's a poem by Elizabeth Bishop called "One Art" that talks about how loss is an art, but it doesn't always lead to disaster. It's meant ironically, because for her, loss is very much a disaster. And the author just keeps telling herself that she's fine until she believes it, but she never really does. I kept doing that with my fear for the longest time, saying that I'd be fine being gone, that I would figure something out, but it finally clicked that I'm not really losing anything by moving.

My hometown isn't going to get up and leave just because I'm not there. My family is still going to love me. The friends that I have here are people that I trust will continue being my friends even if it means we won't see each other everyday. I'm not losing like Ms. Bishop, I'm redistributing myself and my time, and that's okay.

In recent weeks I've had a few falling outs with people I considered friends, so as time goes on, I think making a change might be good for me. My college options are looking great, and I will be in a more healthy environment, I think. As I get closer to finishing high school, I'm looking even looking forward to the change I thought I would dread.

People always talk about how college matures you, and I have no idea if that's true yet since I still have a month and a half left of high school, but just having gone through the college application process has taught me a lot about myself.

I'm going on a college visit for accepted students in a few days, I'm very excited about it. It's one of the schools I blogged about on my College Extravaganza. I hope I'll have time to blog about my experience.

Revisionist History

Summer 2015 has come to an end if you couldn't tell and it didn't feel right not having a blog post about my final summer as a high school student. I also realized that I've had my blog for over a year now and while reminiscing on my first few posts, I really miss my lists. So instead of entire paragraphs filled with details that I'd rather not share all over the internet, I'll use bullet points and lack specificity.

This summer I think it's safe to say that I learned a lot about myself, the world around me, the world beyond me, my friends and my family. At first I thought that my summer was really boring, but the revisionist historian inside of me realized that I did, in fact, have a "Cool For the Summer" worthy three months.

Things I learned the easy way:

• Around 8 hours worth of information about the 1970s.
• The Cosmos makes you sit around for days questioning if you should major in astrophysics.
• Spotify Premium at 99 cents a month for three months is worth it. 
• Manhattan, KS and Manhattan, NY are very different places. The Little Apple has great people that I know, but the Big Apple has great people that I wish I knew and also jaywalkers. 
• Reading Americanah in a car ride with your African parents is a great way to bond.
• PHHHOTO is a great app and downtown in my hometown is filled with so many fun and interesting places that lead to great PHHHOTOs.
• I can fit my entire body into an XXL Girls State sweatshirt and walk around a conference Marriott with very little trouble.
• Believe in yourself because other people think you're doing a great job, even when you don't think so.
• I'm very good at making it rain with $1 bills and Dallas Dollars.
• I'm also heartless when it comes to silent auctions.
• College tours are great.
• I love the East Coast: there's something empowering about being in a thunderstorm and knowing that there will not be a tornado warning.
• Niagra Falls boat rides are effectively water parks.
• Twitter is a great way to keep in touch with your friends from camp.
• I'm not as competitive as I, or anyone thinks I am.
• Live musicals are really great. It doesn't even matter if it's professionals or youth performances.
• Just about nothing is opened 24/7.
• Turn off your Twitter notifications if you make a bumpin' tweet that gets a lot of attention.

Things I learned the hard way:

• People from small towns tend to have lower reading comprehension levels than that of people from larger towns because small towns don't have libraries.
• Small town people don't like you asking them if their town has a library. 
• The farthest bathrooms from Washburn's Living Learning Center without ever walking outside is in the opposite direction of the dining halls and up the stairs.
• Far away bathrooms are a great place to cry without the pity-filled eyes of the American teenage girl watching you.
• You shouldn't read the first 150 pages of Americanah on a plane that has terrible turbulence or sit next to people who like the film "Snakes on the Plane."
• Don't eat guacamole that's sitting at a sample station.
• The Marriott will ask if you need an ambulance no matter the situation. Food poisoning you got at the Marriott? Ambulance. Scraped knee? AMBULANCE. 
• Don't tell your Online Journalism instructor that you got sick from food poisoning because he will tell your entire class.
• I have no understanding of how to pack or how to unpack.
• "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington" makes no sense in the slightest and the ending isn't a real ending and political machines are still going on.
• The state of Kansas has no money for anything, and some of our state Congresspeople think it's totally cool to patronize students instead of answering our questions.
• I overthink a lot of what people say or do and it just leads to me stressing out for no reason and then accidentally self-sabotaging or just crying, it depends.

Maame's College Extravaganza: Columbia University (Columbia College/ Barnard College)

The final stop in my College Extravaganza (before looping back to Ithaca) was Columbia University. I've driven through New York City before when I was younger and I've watched most episodes of Gossip Girl, however I've never been to Columbia before. I had no idea what to expect because Gossip Girl didn't do the best job of showing the campus and pamphlets can only show so much.

We arrived to New York through the Hudson River, or really, over the Hudson. I remember thinking about how much greenery there was in this Concrete Jungle of sorts. I started thinking about everything other people have told me about New York City: "it's dirty," "the streets are trash-filled," "the people are mean," and braced myself for the worst. My parents did the same, my dad was frantic about not opening the trunk, as to evade thieves, while my mom made sure we locked the car door three times. The City, obviously, is very busy. There are people everywhere. One thing I noticed was how there are traffic lights everywhere that tell pedestrians when to walk, but no one at all actually follows its instructions. As for dirty, I didn't find it all that dirty, I only saw one side-street with trash bags on it; however, it did have a certain smell to it, the city did. I later found out that the burrow that holds Columbia is the safest residential burrow, so maybe that's why I didn't experience any New York horror stories.

Columbia's campus is like Narnia. Hear me out, I literally walked through a gate and left a bustling city into an area of calmness, green space and beautiful buildings. Right after we entered we had to high-tail it to the Low Memorial Library (which isn't even a library #fact) where the tour sheet told us to meet. If anyone is wondering, the Low Memorial Library is arguably the most iconic building in all of Columbia, with its huge staircase and Alma Mater statue. I was a little tempted to stand at the gates and walk through again just to confirm that I was still in New York City.

After an hour long information session we were split into groups and led on tours by various guides. There was one tour guide that everyone in the room knew was the cutest, and there I was in my blue printed shorts praying that I would fall into his designated area, but I didn't. Having had one dream crushed at Columbia, I was a little sad, but I kept going. My tour guide was named Jess and she was like an older, Asian version of me (I was called an honorary Asian freshman year, so I guess she's just an older version of me). Being someone who likes STEM and liberal arts, it was good to see that people at Columbia were the same way and were able to pursue both fields. It got to a point where I was pretty much praising Jess for meeting my Queen Mother Ana Wintour, while being a lab aid for a Nobel Laureate. 

Columbia was a sweet surprise for me. I never thought I would've liked the school so much. I like to think of myself as somebody who can only handle the clean streets and strict ordinances of suburban America, but the urban lifestyle that Columbia was showcasing was interestingly comfortable to me. I think I realized that New York City wasn't as awful as I thought it was when we went up to a walking bridge on the campus that let you see 100 blocks in both directions, because it, in a way, made the city seem smaller: more tangible of being real. 

If you're ever going on college visits I suggest planning a guided tour because they really bring the campus to life. For example: Low Memorial Library stopped being some icon, and started looking like a complete failure: it no longer holds books because the architects didn't create a foundation strong enough for the weight of a library. Tour guides, from my experience at least, are students at the college, so they can answer admissions questions and college life questions. Plus, it's good exercise, especially if you're going on a college tour road trip where you're cramped in a car for hours.

The moment everyone has been waiting for: Snapchat filters. Columbia University itself had a lot of filters that didn't make a lot of sense to me like "Low Beach" when I was in the Low Memorial Library. New York City also has its very own Snapstory, which is beyond anything I've ever seen. Because of the building customized and burrow customized filters along with a citywide Snapstory, Columbia receives a 8.5/10 on its filters, better than my hometown. 

Lastly, we need to discuss New York food. My family went to a pizza joint and ordered two small pizzas and received these huge masses of New York style pizza filled with cheese and toppings. It was so good and we were so surprised that our waiter asked us where we were from, apparently all Midwest pizza joints do is cheat us all.

If you've ever been on a college tour, plan on going on your own College Extravaganza, or have a fun story from a time when you were nearly college-aged let me know! 

Maame's College Extravaganza: Massachusetts Institute of Technology

MIT and Harvard are in the exact same city, which makes Cambridge Brain Central. Because they're within the same city limits you'd think that I wouldn't go over location again, but you guessed wrong. Harvard is right in the 'downtown' area of Cambridge, right across the street there is a Panera Bread. MIT is past the downtown area, but not by much so you're not in the outskirts. Still, people are driving faster because there's less traffic and no one parallel parks at MIT because there is a huge parking garage right next to the campus.

MIT's campus is very metropolitan. Unlike Harvard, there are no gates, there is just a street where one part is MIT and the other side is not. The buildings of MIT are not very beautiful, I'm sorry it had to be said. Many of the buildings reminded me of the Grand Budapest Hotel after Zero took over and it was falling apart, not that MIT is falling apart, but it's the same kind of 1960's/1970's minimalist architecture. I'm not really a fan of 1960's/1970's minimalist architecture. There was one building, across the street from the Alchemist, that was truly breathtaking. The building that held the Admissions Office, one of the Maclaurin Buildings, was huge, with "Massachusetts Institute of Technology" (with "u's" as "v's") etched into the top of it. Being surrounded by a failing Grand Budapest was initially off-putting, but I decided to give the campus a try because it was MIT.

The real magic of MIT comes from the people involved, I think. Everyone I met there was extremely nice and informative, especially Tamika in the Admissions Office. After touring the school I had some lingering questions and she answered all of them really well without making the school seem daunting. In the bookstore the lady at the register was telling us all about the binary behind the new MIT shirts (every letter is made up of its own binary code).

My favorite part about my visit to MIT was how it wasn't just mine. If you're unaware my dad deals with computers for a living and my little brother took after my dad's keenness for motherboards and what not, so it was a family trip. When we went to the bookstore to look at shirts my dad and my brother were laughing at everything (that didn't include calc because my brother is 13). MIT was where my family had the most fun overall experience, and even though I can't put them in my suitcase if I were to be accepted, it's still nice to know that they enjoyed their time.

Now for the serious stuff: Snapchat filters. MIT's filters looked exactly like what a school for tech nerds would create. I didn't love them, but they made a lot of sense, so for that, I give MIT a 7/10. Nowhere close to the level of my hometown, but still very original and very MIT-like.

Maame's College Extravaganza: Harvard College

I've been in love with everything Harvard since I was about five years old when my dad and uncle were talking about great colleges (I don't think I'll ever forget that day in Albuquerque), anyway I've never stepped foot on the campus in my life. Everything I know about Harvard comes exclusively from the Internet: whether that be from Gilmore Girls via Netflix, Youtube videos or Harvard's virtual tour. If there has ever been a single school that was a must see in the heart of Maame between 2003 to now, it would be Harvard.

Cambridge is, for starters, beautiful. Everything about it is completely wonderful. I'm still not sure if I'm saying that because I've romanticized the entire town for so long, or if it truly is breathtaking; I think it's a bit of both. Cambridge feels like my hometown--remember, I'm the kid that packed the same home lunch for years, so I'm a fan of normalcy. I will admit there is one disparity: the roads are very narrow, and I was always convinced we'd hit something, even though we never did. Still, I enjoyed my time. Everything there is brick, on Massachusetts Street, I mean, which is a lot like Massachusetts Street in my hometown. The people are friendly, the sidewalks aren't very dirty, and bikers do whatever they want all the time.

Everyone knows how I feel about Gap--short story: I love the Gap. Anyway, literally steps away from Harvard Yard is a Gap store and an Urban Outfitters (even though I don't really shop there anymore, it's good to have choices), plus an Anthropology (I'm not sure I can even afford that, especially as a student, but again, it's good to have options), along with an American Apparel (I really can't afford that, but I can take pictures of cute outfits in the dressing room and dream).

Harvard itself is beautiful, as if that wasn't already obvious. Harvard Yard is smaller than I expected, but Harvard isn't really known for its high acceptance rates or anything, so it's understandable. Everything around Harvard Yard is made of brick, or at least some sort of stone. We went on a guided tour, so it included stories of different buildings, which really pulled everything together to know that a certain pile of bricks once housed George Washington or another was on its third try at being a building. The college is pretty spread out, there is the main campus on Mass., but it branches out throughout Cambridge, with every building looking distinctly Harvard-esque.

The worst moment of my life happened when I identified a Harvard student, from some obscure, exclusively Harvard video from Youtube. I'm sure he was weirded out, but I was on a high from the Cambridge air, and Yale students were in the room next to me. I was very easily knocked off of this pedestal when my mother asked for a picture, which I refused before he could even accept or deny because I am most definitely not a creep.

While on tour, we stopped at the "John Harvard" statue. I put this in quotation marks because John Harvard is not the one immortalized in brass, it's actually some rando that was related to the President of Harvard at the time. Another nugget of information: our tour guide said they call it the "Statue of Three Lies" because John Harvard isn't pictured, the establishment date on the statue is wrong and the founder's name is wrong. The "John Harvard" statue was created by the same man who did the Lincoln Memorial, so maybe he was a bit preoccupied at the time, but still, poor work, man. I saw a Youtube video where a bunch of kids got so drunk they allegedly peed on the statue, but I still got in line like everyone else, and rubbed the statues stinky, pee stained foot. It's supposed to help you get into Harvard, I guess only time will tell if I even have the gall to apply.

The filter options at Harvard are very nice, again not as good as my hometown, but Harvard isn't home to the most artistic people. I'm trying very hard to not let my sweet disposition for the school affect my scoring; between how the many filter options, and how certain buildings had their own filters, I'm giving Harvard a 7.5/10 for its Snapchat filters.

My next stop was MIT, which I will discuss in its own post at a later date. After we leave the Boston area, we'll be headed for the Big Apple.

If any of you have been to Harvard feel free to tell me what it was like.

Maame's College Extravaganza: Cornell University

This summer I’m embarking on my giant college tour trip, my parents and I are taking the East Coast by storm from Ithaca to Boston. This has been, by all means, an Odyssey to get here (Mr. Rabiola would be so proud). We drove because, well, I don't really know why we drove. Still, we drove. It wasn't a bad trip, but it was the longest we've ever taken as a family. I like long car rides because it allows me to do my favorite things: listen to music, eat, and read. It's uninterrupted time to relax for me because no one ever tries to make me drive. I assume as I get older this relaxation period will turn into something very different when I'm the one driving for twenty hours and not reading "Americanah" to Laura Mvula's album and a bag of Oreo Minis. Nonetheless I still read some 300 pages of one of my first fiction books written for adults in the driving period. I've also memorized all of "Green Garden" both the studio and the Metropole Orkest (I prefer the latter version, but only marginally).

As I embark on this journey I find it best to describe each place we stop, or at least the interesting ones. My first stop was Cornell University to

1. Visit my sister; and
2.  Go on a tour of the school

Ithaca, NY is in Upstate New York. I'm from Kansas, so when they say it's flat, I always think about how my hometown has huge hills that are scary to walk up, and then I came here and I'll never think that again. In Upstate New York everything has a slope. In Ithaca if you look up from pretty much any point, you see rolling hills, maybe mountains, for miles. It's really beautiful when you don't think about how somewhere in the rolls and rolls of forestry hills exists a few packs of bears that are very prepared to steal your Tim Hortons.

On the way to the cabins you have to go through a dramatic ride through Upstate, and just before you reach the Arnot Forest you're so close to the forest that you can see individual trees. The trees in this area are very thin, but very tall, like a teenage boy with a pituitary gland imbalance, and the roads are always raised up by about 10 feet, unlike in Kansas. So, you can't really swerve around on the roads, unless you enjoy 10 foot car drops onto the family of bears that still want your donuts.

Ithaca itself is a lot different from what I expected. My parents told me it's just like our hometown: that was a lie. Ithaca is very much a different city. It has a vibe to it that I've only found in the East Coast (this isn't my first rodeo in the East Coast please see 2008 and 2010 of my memory for more details). The roads are narrow and the rent is very high. When you pass single family homes, more than one family lives there. The people are very similar to my hometown, I'll give Ithaca that.

It's probably because they're colleges of similar sizes, although my hometown doesn't house an Ivy. Wegman's is a grocery store that's always packed with people because of its many organic options. My hometown just opened its third organic grocers. Ithaca feels smaller, I think it stems from how different the college town area is from everything else.

I've enjoyed my time here, in Ithaca I mean. There is an avid Amish population, which really excites me because they've always fascinated me. The Snapchat filters for the city aren’t half bad, but nothing in comparison to my hometown. I'll give their filters a 6/10. My next stop is Boston to tour the plethora of colleges that exist within the area. 

Let me know if any of you have been to Ithaca. How was it for you?

Food

I like the foods that I like--I wouldn't say I'm a 'picky' eater, I just don't like a lot of foods, but I really like a few foods. This situation creates an atmosphere of longing and repetition. I've been waiting for my favorite foods to show up and chowing down since as long as I can remember. In pre-school I distinctly remember sobbing the day I had a doctor's appointment that ran late and made me miss my favorite lunch: meatballs.

As I've gotten older and started working the waiting part has kind of disappeared because I can just buy the foods I like. Here is a list of foods that I have arguably become addicted to:

1. 2012- Snicker's Ice Cream Bars
• Once a day, everyday for around a month I would walk to the Walgreen's by my house to buy exactly one Snicker's ice cream bar. 
• "Maame, what is this? Why didn't you just buy them in bulk, like, once a week?" Good question: I have no answer, I was a stupid tween--MOVING ON! 
• When I ran out of money from my babysitting gig and could no longer afford the ice cream bars I can honestly tell you that I had withdrawal symptoms.
•  Like a crackhead in prison, I was forced to move on.
2. 2013- Pirate's Booty
• Every week for 2 months I would buy exactly 2 bags of Pirate's Booty (2 for $4) from Dillion's and spend the whole week eating them
• One day as I was eating a bag, I realized that I had out-eaten them. They stopped being a treat, so I stopped liking them.
• A crackhead sees the light again.
3. 2014- China House
• Before an orchestra concert, after school on early release, after pay day, or when I felt like it I was at China House ordering sesame chicken, light sauce, pork fried rice and crab rangoon instead of egg rolls. 
• The only reason I stopped eating China House was because, well, actually I had it like two weeks ago, nevermind I still eat there. My addiction to Chinese food hasn't gone away.
•  I guess you could say I'm weaning myself off of it in the same way doctors wean crack babies off drugs; it's a gradual process.
4. 2015- The Waffle Iron
• Gourmet (?) $10 waffles that are literally burning a hole in my bank account and I still haven't stopped. 
• If you're a true fan, you'd know that since I was 5 on our family trip to New Mexico when I was first exposed to waffles, I've loved them. 
• A few months ago my friend Jessica, who is a true friend and a true fan, took me to get fancy waffles because she knows how much I love them and that's when it started.
• It's like I'm a crackhead living in a crack house.
• This is such a problem because I refuse to stay in my hometown forever, which means that I can't go once every other week like I'm doing now.

Me the year of the infamous doctor's
appointment, smiling through the pain.

I've worked at the same fast food joint for over a year now, and nearly everyday without fail (until she fell ill) this woman would walk in around 2pm and order a diet coke and two ice creams. It was like clockwork, we could always expect her. One thing to note about me, is how self conscious I am, especially when it comes to food. I hid my Snicker's bars, I tried to play Pirate's Booty off as just a snack and I physically cannot eat alone. 

The problem is when people point it out. Don't remind me that I've had the same snack all the time, don't look at me when my friends don't show up for lunch--just leave me alone until I'm 24 and have better self confidence as a result of my glo up and college degree. 

I'm not even going to say which restaurant it was because I'm so disgraced, but I made a misstep and was called out by a worker (who knows me because I'm always there) because I should know better because I'm literally always there. It was the most horrific moment of my life because I realized I'M THE LADY THAT WALKS IN A 2PM EVERY DAY AND ORDERS TWO ICE CREAMS AND A DIET COKE.

I've been trying to figure out the point of this post for a little over three hours and all I can come up with is that I really need to hurry up and turn 24 so I can have a masters degree and look so good that when people look at me funny for ordering a Chipotle burrito bowl with a tortilla on the side I will not care.

Either that, or I just hyper-analyze everything, especially when it comes to food, and I really need a chill pill and some more self confidence.

It's one of the two.

Summer

Summer vacation has always been a hotbed topic for me (pun intended). As a little kid I hated summer, I thought it was awful because of how much I loved school and, summer is, well, the opposite of school. I was actually jealous of the kids who had to go to summer school. I think everyone pretty much thought I was a dweeb-loser-nerd.

Either way as I got older, summer wasn’t that looming three month gap of nothing but rather a much needed relief: my driver’s license, car and expendable income from my job also added to my change of heart. 

As a youngster May to August consisted of two weeks of TV, church camp for a week, math camp for a week, 2 more weeks of nothing, another church camp, nothing, sleepaway camp, more nothing and the finally the next school year had begun! I hated the nothing parts of summer: I’d countdown to each camp date and once they’d end I’d wait anxiously for the school year to begin. 

I like being involved with something and being bored makes me physically ill even now. I’m not joking, I feel sick when I have nothing to do--or maybe just anxious, I’ve never really looked into it. Back to the point! Imagine a bone skinny, 5’5, 10 year old walking around her backyard trying to figure out how to read most comfortably in a tree. Now imagine that same dweeb-loser-nerd inside with a school size whiteboard writing and solving the longest long division problem possible just for fun because she finished all of her workbooks. That was me and it wasn’t a good look. I did everything in my free time: I wrote a blog, I rode my bike, I watched copious amounts of Doctor Who, I read Wikipedia articles for fun, I finished every workbook my parents bought me, I read every Abby Hayes book published to 2010 (and racked up a huge library fine because of it). I even learned how to make my own powerpoint transitions just to know that I could. 

Last summer was similar but different. I’m a bit taller now and I don’t weigh 92 pounds anymore. I spent my summer months volunteering all over town, babysitting, making fries at Wendy’s and pre-studying (pre-studying is when you read the AP textbooks over the summer so when the school year starts you already have an idea of what’s going on). I was never bored last summer, because there was never time to be bored--but there was no pressure and I didn’t have to use my brain. That’s where the break part comes into play: there’s no pressure to get an A on a Calc test or be awake by 6:30. 

Here's a picture of me in July '10, wasting away at a movie.

Summer '14 was a lot different in the way that it was the first summer that my sister was gone. I mean, don’t get me wrong she’s been to camps I didn’t go to and she got to tour the East Coast when she was 12 but I always knew that she’d be back for the school year and summer of 2014 was the first year when I knew definitively that she would not be returning. She didn’t die or anything, she just went off to college early to get some credits out of the way but still. That’s why I’m really glad I was so busy. There wasn’t enough time to sulk around feeling sad because there was a hospital patient who needed to find the Family Health Center or a Calc book that needed highlighting--I appreciated that. 

I think my point is that I’m kind of like squirrel, I need something to do at all times because my mind moves so much and I’m interested in so many things. I have no idea what I’ll do this coming summer--I have some camps lined up and volunteering in place but it’s worrisome. This is potentially my last summer at home because I don’t know what summer college I could go to or if I’ll take a senior trip. It’s my last summer to make count, college wise. I think I’m a little crazy about looking as good as possible to colleges, but I’m not going into the college process blindly. Summer is a time where I need a ton of things to do for my crazy brain to flourish so that it stops being so crazy. 

With my final AP test finishing today at noon, I can see summer in the horizon: summer looks beautiful and bright and happy, but a little bitter sweet. I have one more year of  high school and then I've done it, I will have graduated. I'm ready for the age of the free--I'm ready for summer.

Running

I really like the idea of exercise, especially running. The other day on a school trip my friend and I realized that our hotel had a gym. Mind you, it was a measly little trashcan of a gym with two treadmills (one of which didn't even have a phone holder), a stair stepper, a bike and some weights in a fairly small and musty room. But I didn't really care because putting on my exercise clothes and turning on my running playlist was enough for me to feel like I was in an episode of the Carrie Diaries, even though I was cursing myself with every step I took and also the part where I was not Carrie. No, I was one of her cool friends that live in the City that also happens to work out even on vacation and ultimately steals Austin Butler's character away from Carrie because of her toned physique due to hotel gym exercise. But the reality of this physical blasphemy didn't involve me being a man-stealer but rather a dream crusher.

I don't think people understand that even though I look like I haven't sweat in 13 years, I am actually a pretty athletic person...or at least I used to be. I played basketball all throughout elementary and middle school, tennis on the side and soccer over the summer just for fun one year. I don't hate sports. I like basketball because you have to do minimum three things at one time: set your feet, don't stay in the paint too long, get open, screen, remember the play, just kidding it fell apart, rebound. whatever, I'm getting dramatic you get the point. And with tennis it's a mental game of where you want to hit the ball, how hard, if you actually want to chase after that ball that's going to fall in the opposite corner, how are you going to unlock your inner Serena Williams. As for soccer, I have no idea I was awful at it but it's fun to watch. And sure I had to run to condition for those sports but it never really grew beyond a lull of hatred because I knew there'd have to be a point where we'd get to the good part where I could use my brain. Track was a different story.

Every time I move my legs faster than walking pace I crush my own dreams because honestly I just don't like running just to run. And I especially don't like running around a track aka the lost chapter of Dante's Inferno. I talk to people about why they like running all the time because honestly a little part of me wished I actually liked it and I'm always kind of hoping someone's reason will become my own; however, I am not a sponge so I can't absorb their reasons. Back to the point: I've heard that it relieves stress, it calms people down, it let's them think--essentially running is a poor man's Netflix and popcorn.

This is the only picture of me doing anything track related,
fake smile, ugly uniform and bad hair intact.

The only reason I started running was because my arms were pretty much the same size as my legs starting middle school--I was an actual twig and I read somewhere that you can get less bony legs from running, so I did. But after 7th grade I went back for the 8th grade season to hang out with friends (my legs weren't a huge issue since I stopped being 95 pounds). In 8th grade I was convinced that I would learn to love running if I did it enough, so I kept doing it. I'm pretty sure I got the idea of this do-it-til-you-love-it" mentality from an NPR segment where this man joined the army and ran all the time and one day it stopped being a chore. I am not the man from the NPR segment. I am 17 years old girl with long legs that I use for nothing except for exclusively owning capris (not by choice).

I find running very boring and I don't like having to go through my own thoughts while my throat burns. This is my thought process when I run:
I really just don't get it: am I supposed to keep doing the same thing the whole entire time for nothing? Isn't that what babies do? They want to play peek-a-boo over and over again, and just like peek-a-boo this got boring after the first minute. 

I recently stopped feeling the shin splints and muscle pain I acquired from my fantasy man-stealing and a couple things I know are true:

1. I wanted to break that stupid treadmill into pieces
2. Afterwards I was really surprised that I:

• A) actually finished; and
• B) didn't pass out afterwards
• C) even thought that running would be a good idea

Long story short: no matter what I do I'm going to hate running, it's in my blood, it's in my brain, it's in my heart and I can't change that. My best options are to stop watching reruns of the Carrie Diaries and get over my Henry David Thoreau-like attitude of falling in love with the ~idea~ of things and get real for a quick minute.

Great Expectations

I have an issue with expectations: I always place mine too high. It really doesn't matter who I have expectations of, a crackhead, my parents, a rando, a good friend, literally anyone except for myself and it's becoming a problem. I don't think that I lack confidence, I've actually been working really hard on building that aspect of my life, I think it's more that I push myself really hard so when a teacher says the class "struggled" on a test or something of that nature I look to myself before anyone else: which brings me back to expectations.

There's this new show called Child Genius on Lifetime, I think and it's really interesting. Basically really important people (the proctor is a former astronaut) make a bunch of little kids stand on a podium and answer questions that are really hard. I know it sounds bland, but I root for some of those kids as if they were my own blood (YEJI I'M ROOTING FOR YOU!!!). I'm getting off topic. Anyways, they have a gifted education specialist who has little confessionals where she discusses how most gifted kids tend to act.

This is Leland Melvin, he's the proctor of Child Genius and has the hands-down best portrait I've ever seen.

I'm not trying to toot my own horn or anything but I tend to relate to what she says because I was, still am whatever, a gifted kid. But on the latest episode she said how a lot of gifted kids have really high expectations but tend to downplay them in order to cushion the blow and that's when it hit me (pun intended)--I DO THAT ALL THE TIME.

Okay let's share some secrets: last year I applied to be on this teen panel and it was a very intense process of lots of recommendations and applications. I kind of had it in my head that I was a pretty great student: I tried really hard and took difficult classes plus I had the grades to prove it, so when I got my rejection email I was devastated. I'd been checking my email vigorously all week in hopes that they'd tell me to pack my bags because I had been chosen, but instead I got a short email about how it wasn't a me thing, it was a them thing and how "many exceptional students applied" and that this rejection "shouldn't discourage me". I got off my shift at work, sat in my car and cried for a solid 10 minutes probably. I hadn't really spoken about it in depth because even though I ~thought~ I was going to be chosen, I didn't want people to think that I ~thought~ that I was going to get it and I didn't want myself to think that I ~thought~ that I was a shoe-in. It was a huge mess of getting my hopes up and then squishing them down just for them to rise again until finally, concretely they fell.

That's what worries me. I've already taken the SATs for the first time and then Subject Tests in May, plus AP tests in May, plus the ACT that's still looming and then the huge elephant that is college applications, I can't help but think in the back of my mind that I'm going to have high expectations because I put a lot of effort into everything, only to have the same fluctuation in my mind that could very well result in the same rejection template with different words printed where the parentheses once were.

I've been trying to keep myself balanced and stay positive. I know where my mind tends to lean towards and I know how it affects me. I'm not trying to be a Debby Downer, but sometimes you have to hope for the best but expect the worst and that took me a while to figure out and I'm not sure I have the balance quite right, but I can only hope that over time it won't be so hard to think that way.

I always have issues making points with my posts, however, this one for me is very straightforward. Having high expectations isn't always a bad thing but it's a balancing act. I'm only 17, so I have a lot more to work on but I went from a 12 year old who was scared of criticism and failure to a teenager who is more confident and comfortable sharing her work with everyone and now always expects some sort of response no matter how good or bad, so I'd say I've come a long way.

I may not always show it, but I tend to get very anxious and nervous when I really want something, but now I know that everything can't always go my way and I can only hope that when my time comes to "glo up" I'll be ready.

YOU READ MY DIARY

I'm probably classified as a hoarder. I tend to keep little things from my past in hopes that it's relevant in the future. Okay, exaggeration, I'm a intellectual property hoarder. As long as I can remember I try to keep track of my thoughts, often time by writing them down--I run this blog for crying out loud! You know I'm a hoarder.

Anyways, tomorrow I'm going to wake up bright and early to get in line to meet Obama. I got my ticket the other day after a 4 hour wait in line and I'm ready for round 2 except the President will be there.

I've kept diaries on and off since I stopped being illiterate back around 2004. When President Obama was elected the first time I was 9 years old and you know I documented it.

Here are my thoughts on Obama going from Barry to POTUS.

(I took out the extra dramatic borderline offensive things I put about someone, I was 9 and it was a diary) 

If you can't read it in my chicken scratch it says:

"Dear Diary,

OBAMA WON! Oh yea! That's right Nov. 4, 2008 10:03 pm ct Barack H. Obama became president. I will not slack in school! I will sooo get Barack's autograph!"

I know what you're thinking "this post needs some salt!" but having the President of the United States in walking distance made me dig up my old thoughts and share them, and maybe in another 7 years I'll dig up this blog post and share it with some other people. 

Waffles (well sort of)

I am a very picky eater, remember that Arthur book where DW won't eat spaghetti: it was based on me. I don't like angel hair pasta or milk or unsteamed broccoli or a lot of other things; but, if I do like something I will embrace it wholeheartedly forever: waffles are the greatest testament to that claim.

I love everything about waffles. I prefer them over pancakes because the syrup get's stuck in the little boxes, I like that they're crispy on the outside and warm and chewy on the inside. I love going on vacation because the Marriot has the best waffle mix. I actually prefer waffle fries to regular fries because they closely resemble my favorite food. If I was on death row and they asked what my last meal would be I would say waffles with maple syrup, butter on the side, apple juice and bacon (all from the Marriot please). Even though I love waffles, I refuse to eat at the Waffle House because honestly the sign itself looks really beat up and I like my waffles to be quality. I'm losing track of the point here.

Today is exactly 3 weeks after my 17th birthday, or as most people like to call it Christmas. Nearly 52 weeks ago for my 16th birthday I asked my mom to buy me a waffle maker (in the store), she told me maybe later (which basically means no). (I thought about buying my own, but I'm a useless teenage girl who spends all of her money on online shopping instead of on important things like waffle makers). ANYWAYS I woke up this morning and in my mom's hands was a WAFFLE MAKER!! I know what you're thinking: "Who asks for a waffle maker you freak". And guess what my parents already know I'm a freak that's why they bought it for me!

Here are the first waffles made on my waffle maker. They're from scratch because okay is not good enough.

I know what you're thinking: this is a diary post, please put this somewhere else. But believe me there is a point to this post.

I'm not just a picky eater, I'm a picky person, point blank. If I don't like it I won't get it, I don't care if Obama gave it to me (okay maybe I'd accept it in person and not use it) I wouldn't want it. And this causes troubles with a lot of things, but it also brings along a lot of prosperity: it makes me care more about what I have or what I'm doing because I know it's exactly want. I see a lot of times that people settle for whatever's there, kind of like how I almost did when I wanted that $10 waffle maker at JCPenny in 2013, but my mom knew me so well she made me wait.

I know this sounds corny and stupid but we should all be the same way. I (was forced to) read "My Antonia" and "O Pioneers" and both women basically settled for the first lame-o guy that showed interest in them even though I was rooting for them to get a cute boyfriend the entire book! Okay back to the point: whatever you're going after make sure you reach for the stars please because no one wants to be 35 years old sitting around writing about the time they married the old neighbor boy who just lost his job in Alaska and wants to live on your farm and mooch of your October harvest (Willa Cather I'm talking to you don't avoid me even in the grave).

Why be mediocre? When you can be excellent? Why be lukewarm when you can be piping hot? There's not really a point to go half way and then turn around and go home, so just go all the way. If you have a deadbeat friend let them go and move on: dead weight is useless. I guess what I'm trying to say without sounding like a life coach is: don't be boring and lame because it's easy, don't avoid change because you don't feel like it and don't stay bleh because bleh is accessible.

I have a lot of people saying things about me all the time, but I'm having too good of a time being interesting and excellent to let them bother me and I'm sure everyone would too if we eradicated mediocrity.

Eurocentric

I find that a lot of my blog posts are created when someone says or does something that touches a nerve: this is no different than any of my other posts. I recently saw a tweet circulating on my timeline that declared Carrie Underwood as the most beautiful woman in the world. Don't get me wrong Carrie Underwood is cuter than me; I'm not debating that I look better than someone who probably has 15 people that help her get ready in the morning. I will, however, negate the idea that there is definitely a singular person who is more beautiful than all others.

The idea that Carrie Underwood is the most beautiful person to ever walk the earth is contingent on Eurocentric ideals of beauty: light colored hair, light colored, big eyes eyes, fair skin, thin, rosy cheeked, thin nose, small lips (I think you get the point). Everything I described, Carrie Underwood is: she's skinny with a small nose and lips and she has blond hair and light colored eyes and light skin and the whole 9 yards, I have exactly none of those things. So if Carrie Underwood checks off everything on the list and is described as the most beautiful and I check off exactly 0 of them does that make me the ugliest person on the earth? Of course not, but it took me a very long time to figure that out.

Even if we don't realize it, every person raised in the West is brought up on Eurocentric ideals of beauty: it's what we strive for. Growing up in a predominately white town and going to a predominately white school my entire life, I know full well the pressure to live up to such standards when it's physically impossible to do so.

I can remember back in 4th grade when I had my hair braided with real Indian Remy hair: I was so excited. I went to school the weekend after and told everyone that my hair was human and expected everyone to be really jealous of me; the exact opposite happened. I was 9 and I wanted to feel special, but one girl didn't really want that to happen. I guess I could say her name and shame her, but I'd rather not so let's call her Ashley (because there were no 4th grade girls named Ashley at my school). Anyways, Ashley confronted me to let me know that she believed my hair to have been stolen off of a dead person and then proceeded to tell the whole class. Needless to say I tried very hard from that point on to not wear my hair in braids for 3 years following that incident.

The thing is I don't think Ashley did it intentionally to force down the idea that my hair should be perfectly straight and brown like hers, but it worked. I started straightening my hair that year and using mouse on the days I didn't have time. Someone commented on my eyebrows, so I went home and tried to trim them, but in true Maame fashion cut one entirely off and had to draw it on for a month. Again I don't think the person who told me my eyebrows were bushy was trying to hurt me either, but I wanted so badly not to look like the odd one out: the singular kid who didn't look like she'd fit in a sunblock commercial.

Slight attacks against the non-European body happen beyond 4th grade bathroom break conversations. For instance, just about every magazine gears it's audience toward white women. "Pinch your cheeks for color" leaves my cheeks looking the exact same. Everything from hair care to makeup tips is made for the fairer shades. Even in the American Military a black person can fight for their country, but can't wear their natural hair. I type in "beautiful hair" into Google Images and

this pops up. Every single picture in the first page consists straight/ tasseled/ lightly curled, glossy hair. And an unexpected point to my case is that "African American hair" has it's very own category! As to say: "you're hair isn't beautiful enough to make the list so we gave you your own". 

Looking up "beautiful eyes" evokes a very similar response:

Nearly every set of eyes shown is blue or the lighter variety. 

Seeing things like this worries me. When I hear people tell Beyonce to "do Blue Ivy's hair" or say "You're cute for a black girl", my stomach turns in knots. Western society holds these beliefs that beauty comes in one package and the only variants include different versions of light and bright. 

It's taken me nearly 10 years to overcome my internalized racism: to stop wondering why my hair isn't like everyone else's or why my skin is so dark. I spent nearly all of elementary and middle school feeling sorry for my looks. I used to wear bobby pins in the bottom of my ponytails so they wouldn't stick up, I would roll my lips up to make them seem smaller. I shaved off my eyebrows, I wet my hair in the middle of the day to make my bangs lay flat, I did everything to be just like the other girls at my school before finally, around freshman/sophomore year, I realized that I'm cute and black. They aren't mutually exclusive like Google Images makes it seem, but inclusive of one another. 

I walked into school today with proudly presented dark brown skin and, yes, box braided hair with extensions (Ashley could only hold me back so long!). I don't curl my lips up anymore because I'm not in search of my lips appearing smaller. My eyebrows haven't seen a trimmer in nearly 3 years so don't bother with any of the eyebrow antics. And there's no point looking into my eyes and comparing them to an ocean, because my eyes are such a deep brown that it's nearly impossible to differentiate between my pupil and my iris. And the best part is that I don't even care that I look nothing like Carrie Underwood: there is a negative resemblance and it doesn't even matter.

It took me too long to accept me for me, and it's great that I've done that; but I can't help but think of all of the other little black and brown children who curl up their lip, or shave off their eyebrows or get made fun of for their hair. I can't help but think that there's a little Maame sitting around wondering why she was born with 'bad hair'. It's always in the back of my mind how long it will take for Blue Ivy to internalize all of the attacks on her appearance. It scares me how many children and even adults go through everyday hating something about themselves because it doesn't fit into this Carrie Underwood sized box. And I'm not blaming her, Carrie Underwood I mean, looking the way most people want everyone to look because it's not her fault, but I am blaming every media outlet, every micro-aggression and every purposeful attack on anyone's looks. 

I'm happy with who I am and how I look, but not everyone is, so I'll advocate for them.

Orange is the New Black

Imagine coming home from school one day to find that your local police department has gone into your home and sequestered every internet capable device you have to build a case against you for child pornography. Your mother is crying, your sister is hiding and your father is pleading with the police, asking to see a warrant. Of course the police hand it over to show that you-- a young, chipper, teenage boy-- are under investigation for soliciting and distributing child pornography. Of course your parents are furious at you as they search for a lawyer to represent you, if they can even afford it! 
Flash forward a bit: your in chipotle picking up a burrito because your still a free man-- you've done nothing wrong,all yo did was press send, when BAM! the police bust in, put you in handcuffs and let you and everyone in the restaurant know that are being arrested for--you guessed it--child pornography. Picture the look of horror on your face  as parents at a table look at you in disgusted while hurrying away from you because your one jury verdict away from hard time in the slammer.

Of course you have to go to trial and your parents probably can't afford the reincarnation of Johnnie Cochran so you get stuck with a run of the mill, reasonably priced lawyer. But such a shame because your fancy Kansas City lawyer can not defend you against the piles of damning evidence the DA has against your perverted trashcan of a life. They pull up all the text messages you forwarded and of course, the coup de grace: your twitter account where you've been openly soliciting nude pictures of underage girls. No one is reasonably doubting anything and your sentenced to 15 years in prison as outlined by the US Federal Government (http://www.justice.gov/criminal/ceos/citizensguide/citizensguide_porn.html). 

Let's move forward some more: 4 years into your 15 year sentence you're sitting in the laundry room of the prison you now call home because helping around can reduce your time in prison. As you fold the underwear of the man who beat you up last week you think about what you've done to deserve this and then it hits you! You posted naked pictures of underage girls! That's why everyone calls you a "chester" and even the murderers look down on you! How could you forget silly? As you put the last of the orange jump suits in the hamper you think about how every decent human being from your former high school is doing because frankly, they don't live in a 6 by 6 cinder-block cell. Wow...your life is worse than the cafeteria food you eat every single day.

That story was very dramatic, like season 1 of Grey's Anatomy dramatic, but I needed to get my point across: posting and sending nudes is like putting yourself into the prison draft. Within my school there is a culture that sharing private nude pictures is perfectly acceptable, in fact a surprising amount of the student body does it for sport! It's like Pokemon cards, whoever can collect the most ones wins. This has bothered me for a long time but after seeing a twitter account dedicated to soliciting and distributing nudes of high school girls in my town.

Personally, I don't have time to focus on boys: the last time I tried that I got a B in geometry so I've essentially written-off any type of serious relationship (queue Ally Simpson's "That's Why I'm Single"); however, not everyone is me. They don't choose "grades over baes" and I can't force them to, but I can stand up for what is wrong: manipulating someone into sending you private pictures that you then share is wrong. A lot of girls get sucked into the nude train wreck that can hurt their reputation and down the road effect their eligibility for jobs. A lot of times people tend the blame the victim in situations like this: "why did she send the pictures in the first place?"In theory this is true but realistically what we have is a teenage girl, infatuated with a boy who promises her love and affection in exchange for a few pictures. And being a teenage girl she'll probably oblige. Following with the rules of the misogynistic cesspool that we live in the boy will think to himself "this is my property now and I will do with it what I please" and then send it to everyone he knows: another card in the deck.

This attitude that so many boys have is disgusting; the idea that they potentially hold someone's future in their hands and be so senseless is crazy. And the way others react to this is just as bad :the slut-shaming, the finger pointing, the "she should've known better"'s all while the student body continues to praise the violator...until it's them. The best thing we can all do is refrain from sending nudes period, but let's be real that probably won't happen so let's instead shame the person who spreads them around because vulgarity is worse than naivety until there is a common idea that sending nudes outside of the consent of the owner isn't funny.

I think tonight seeing everyone I know stand up against that obscene and illegal twitter account showed me that it's possible to shame the distributor: to make them know that actions of that nature will not be accepted in our school but it needs to become commonplace. And some will ask why this doesn't happen with all social media accounts posting lewd images and I don't have an answer but I think tonight was a step in the right direction. I am satisfied with gradual change, it's acceptable and realistic but not ideal, but the world isn't perfect and I get that. What I don't understand is why it's so hard to stop treating people like objects. I refuse be in a situation where blatant disrespect of the female body is so prevalent and I don't have the ability to move any time soon, so I guess I'll have to change the attitudes and the atmosphere of the people in my town--even if it's gradual, at least it's happening.