alexisbundy1-blog

[alexisbundy1-blog]

[this post is just for kicks]

ok so i have a playlist called junior (go follow it) that contains almost all the songs i have discovered this year. here are some of my favourites:

“Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God)” - Kate Bush I first discovered Kate Bush the summer before freshman year. I don’t remember how, but it most definitely links back to having the knowledge that she had a song entitled “Wuthering Heights.” (Sound familiar?) Afterwards, the words “Kate Bush” became a part of my music vocabulary. Did you know she wrote “Wuthering Heights” at 18 years old, became the first woman to ever have a number-one hit in the UK, AND was only 19 when the song hit the charts? When I’m 19, my biggest accomplishment will be doing my own laundry. ANYWAY - so after two years of being a Kate Bush fan, I noticed that her acclaimed album Hounds of Love was finally on Spotify and decided to give it a listen. Her artist page showed that this one song was one of her most popular, so I gave it a go. Not to be hyperbolic, but this song rocked my world. I mean, I knew Kate Bush was one of the coolest people ever, but this song just took her radness to a new level. The synths, the power of her vocals, the lyrics, the video(!!!). Kate Bush is just a tour de force. I love her, and so should you. And also she should have been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame this year. Just saying.

“Personal Jesus” - Depeche Mode So technically I first heard this song over the summer but...who cares...I was technically a junior. First of all, this song goes HARD. Between the bassline and the sporadic interjections of synth, “Personal Jesus” is just simply a tune. It makes you feel badass, even if the lyrics don’t really align with that feeling, and I wish I could provide some more persuasive evidence as to why it’s so good, but you have to listen to it yourself. It’s just...a tune. That’s all.

“Edge of Seventeen” - Stevie Nicks Okay so I’m relatively embarrassed to say that I only heard this song in July...and it initially struck me because it shared the same bassline as a Destiny’s Child song...sorry, Stevie. But it’s such a good song!!!! Fun fact: the title comes from a discussion Stevie had with the late, great Tom Petty’s wife, who said she had been in love with Tom since she was the age of seventeen; however, she had a southern drawl, so it sounded as though she was saying “edge of seventeen.” And the rest is history. And you should listen to this song if you haven’t already. Another badass song with a wobbling bassline and cool female vocals.

“Praying” - Kesha No offense to Madison, but I’ve been the Kesha fan from day one. Don’t even @ me. Like, Kesha posters everywhere in my room, buying Kesha albums in secret (my mother wasn’t a fan), knowing all the words to her songs - the works. So when Kesha released this TUNE in late July/August, not only was the world shook - I was so shaken. I was like, “Is this Miss Ke-dollar sign-ha???? Is this Kesha Rose Sebert???” First of all, I was literally in pieces when Kesha’s court case ruling came out, and then she dropped this song and I was like “Adios.” I always knew Kesha was a ~talented songstress~ but her vocals on this song...I cry every time. WHY DIDN’T IT WIN A GRAMMY.

“God Bless America - and All the Beautiful Women In It” - Lana Del Rey No offense....but Lana Del Rey dropped the best album of the year (tied w/ DAMN. again don’t @ me) and it is also the best album of her career. There are a lot of fabulous songs on this album but this is my favourite. It’s so subtly political yet so ethereal. The vocals and guitar on this song just soar. I love Lana so much <3

basically Dua Lipa’s whole debut album - Dua Lipa I’ve been a Dua fan since summer 2016 and when she dropped this album she also drop-kicked me to another planet. Prior to the album’s release, she released hit after hit and I was over here like “Thank u Dua for blessing us with ur killer vocals and ur mega tunes” and THEN she had the AUDACITY to just rock my world with this album. Is it Dark Side of the Moon? No. Is it still a great pop album?? Yes. And do the songs go hard?? They go hard. No offense but every song on this album - even the bad ones (*cough* “Room for 2″) - are better than “Shape of You” and YET who won the Grammy for Best Pop Vocal Performance?? Not Dua Lipa the true winner. Anyway if you have a chance just listen to the whole album. My favourite songs are-jk I love them all. Except for “Room for 2″ just ignore that one.

“Bodak Yellow” - Cardi B ....do i really need to speak on this one...

“Go Gina” - SZA I am still so offended that the Recording Academy snubbed SZA’s debut album but WHATEVER IT’S FINE. This song is about halfway through the album, and it serves as a slight interlude. But it’s my favourite. It’s succinct, it’s gorgeous, it references Martin. SZA is so talented and deserves the world.

“Raspberry Beret” - Prince I first heard this song on the last episode of She’s Gotta Have It, the TV reincarnation of the Spike Lee film. I was a Prince fan, but this song just gave me a new respect for him. It’s not necessarily in the lyrics, but the music is just insane. There’s a combination of Prince’s signature guitar-and-synth combo, but then there’s a harmonica-type instrument as well that ties into Prince’s ventures to an abandoned farm/barn. This is a good memory of Prince. 

“Best Friend” - Sofi Tukker Can I just say...this song deserves better. I know a lot of people have heard it in iPhone ads and whatnot, but Sofi Tukker is just such an amazing group and this was the first song I heard by them and they are so talented. This song just truly goes hard. I’m upset I don’t hear it more often. The wobble of such a strong bassline adds so much energy to an already enthusiastic song. It’s a great mainstream introduction to Sofi Tukker.

the entire Black Panther soundtrack again...do i really need to speak on this....

every song on the Call Me By Your Name soundtrack but especially the Sufjan Stevens songs ok so it’s common knowledge that this movie has damaged me forever, but you know what else damaged me? the soundtrack. who else gets away with intertwining classical piano music and euro eighties hits and sufjan stevens songs? no one except for luca guadagnino. so let’s briefly discuss,,,,first of all i had actually never listened to a psychedelic furs song before and i feel like that’s embarrassing especially for me so “love my way” was just such a wow moment for me. great pop song with great lyrics that truly pertain to the movie. excellent choice. also my new favourite song “paris latino” by bandolero is just so campy and european and eighties. what a tune. and the opening song, “hallelujah junction” by john adams, is just so gorgeous. it’s such a fabulous opener. now lets talk about sufjan stevens....we’re first introduced to his music in the movie with a remix of his song “futile devices.” this remix is so ethereal and stunning; it fits so perfectly within the movie. then there’s the happy little ditty “mystery of love” that basically should have won the oscar but then i saw coco and “remember me” made me cry so i wasn’t too mad. not much to say about this one because it speaks for itself. great song. now,,..,.,.,.”visions of gideon”.....,.,.,this song is so offensive. every time i listen to it i want to sit in front of a fire place for the whole duration of the song and CRY over my lover who is getting married and teaches at columbia. it’s so delicate and haunting. it just makes me cry.

“Lemon” - N.E.R.D & Rihanna idk about you guys but i heard this on the radio like once and i was so offended by how little airplay it received because this song is just so amazing. like pharrell + rihanna = modern musical genius. this was all the world needed. 

“This is America” - Childish Gambino I know literally the entire population of Earth is talking about this song but I think the visuals are the more intriguing part (obviously). Like on its own, the song is great, but the music video adds way more to it, in my opinion. As it has been said numerous times, you really have to watch the video multiple times to catch everything, but it’s such a stunning video that really forces you to think and comprehend everything going on. Props to you, Donald Glover. Even though you have been slightly problematic in the past.

so obviously i could have like a gazillion songs listed here but a) some of them are hard to explain b) i don’t want to offend anyone and c) i tried to make it seem like my taste in music is both good and slightly mainstream so people can #relate. i also discovered a lot of bruce springsteen within this period and i am proud of myself for doing so. okay, well i hope it’s noted that i did this just for fun and would obviously not like to be graded on it i just kind of wanted to have something to reflect on the year! unlike my actual blog post for this month. and i just wanted to have a platform to talk about music and get people to listen to my playlist. ok see you!! go read my real blog post!!

[alexisbundy1-blog]

#14. bye bitches

Wasn’t it yesterday that we were just writing our first blog posts about what we thought it meant to be an American? Look at us now - we’re about to become seniors! We get to wear red, legally wear college sweatshirts, be ringers-

I won’t be a senior next year. I won’t be partaking in any of the wonderful traditions that Casti delegates to its graduating class. In fact, if you had told me back in 2015 that I would be leaving Casti early, I probably would have responded with, “You’re out of your mind.”

But here we are. And although my title for this blog doesn’t really show it, I’m deeply disheartened to leave both this amazing, idiosyncratic school and this chaotic country. Castilleja has given me an experience like no other, and so has the United States. For my final blog post, here are some things both America and Castilleja have taught me:

1) How to work hard: One anecdote that I’m not necessarily proud of goes back to my sixth grade year in Sydney, pre-move. By April, I had stopped doing my homework. Like actually not doing my homework. In junior school (grades 3-6), homework was a weekly task; you were given your work on Monday, and it was due by Friday. So you can imagine the shock I felt when I moved here and was introduced to...daily homework. Now I had no choice but do my homework. But it paid off - I ended up getting good grades in middle school. Sadly, I also academically peaked in middle school. Obviously when I came to Castilleja, I was introduced to competition. You know that scene in Mean Girls where Cady has a theoretical daydream about Regina and her fighting animal-style, and everyone watches on (also animal-style)? That’s how I picture Castilleja students competing over who’s more stressed or who’s more accomplished or who has the best grades. And even though the competitive nature of our grade is toxic, it’s also taught me how to go for what I want and work for it.

2) How to fight for what you want: This is perhaps my favourite Castileja-related story. It was sometime in March, I believe. March or April or early May. It was a day in one of those months, and the most important event of my life was about to occur - tickets for Harry Styles’s debut concert were going on sale. So on the day, I got my computer ready at break with my pre-registed verified fan account on Ticketmaster at hand, and I went for those tickets. Well, apparently every man and his dog were also trying to get those tickets, because even though I had been on Ticketmaster since it had opened up the sale of the tickets, I was still unable to get any. It was time to take it to the next level - Stubhub. Unfortunately, by the time I had reached Stubhub, break was over, and I had a Chem test to take. So what did I do? What any normal person would do - walk into CQ’s classroom, computer in hand and game face on, and I continued to get my tickets. I was very lucky when CQ allowed me to take the time to search for tickets, and guess what? I got them! And failed my Chem test. And also really enjoyed the Harry Styles concert! So fight for what you want, even if it means failing a Chem test, even if you don’t have a CQ letting you fight for what you want. 

3) How to be resilient: Okay, I have to admit - I am a priss. I am very prissy. I can’t deny it. If something goes wrong, my life is over. If I get a bad test score, my life is over. If ____ goes wrong, my life is over. I got my first kick of ‘resiliency’ during an eighth grade basketball game: my team was in the playoffs, it was the fourth quarter, and four of us had fouled out (myself included). I started crying because I felt guilty that we were going to lose. My father, who was one of the coaches, came over and told me sternly, “Bundys don’t cry.” So maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say to an emotional thirteen year-old, but it sure stuck with me. Do I still cry if we’re in the playoffs and I lose? Yes (but I have reason to because my partner sabotaged us ok). But if I get a bad test score, or if something goes my way, I have a brief moment, recollect myself, and move on. It’s really not the end of the world.

4) How to participate in social justice: Everyone in middle school knew me as the ‘feminist.’ So it was no surprise, then, that I ended up at Castilleja. Now, I’ve said this multiple times, but I wasn’t necessarily a social activist upon my arrival at this school. Looking back, I learned a lot from entering Diversity as a freshman, but I probably should have waited a year or two before joining. By the time of the election, I started accumulating more knowledge about social justice and speaking out. When I participated in a protest held in November 2016, I felt very liberated and very inspired by everyone who marched alongside me. When I started supporting Everytown and March for Our Lives, I felt like I was finally doing something. I may not be a full on social justice warrior, but I want to continue standing up for what is right. I hope to take what I’ve learned from these experiences back to Australia with me.

5) How to appreciate what you have: Growing up, I think I realized that I was a fortunate child, but I never realized it. In fact, I didn’t really start thinking about it up until this past year. I have been very lucky to live a fortunate life. But I never appreciated what I had. I never thought, One day, this could all be gone. I never thought, One day, I could lose my loved ones. I need to cherish them for as long as possible. Now, I try not to take the things I have for granted. I cherish the good life I live; I cherish my loving parents and my younger sisters; I cherish this wonderful education I have received; I cherish all the wonderful opportunities I have been given; I cherish my friends; I cherish being alive. I don’t think I was ever a brat, but I took too much for granted. I’ve always been ‘appreciative,’ but never appreciative. I should clarify that having a ‘wonderful life’ and ‘being fortunate’ do not translate to having money, expensive houses, materials, etc. Though I have been lucky to live in beautiful places, I am fortunate because I receive undying love and support from my parents; I am fortunate because I feel love all the time; I am fortunate because I have wonderful people in my life.

Anyway, these are just a few tidbits of what America has taught me. And so I bid my farewell - albeit sadly - to you all, but know that farewell doesn’t mean goodbye forever. I know our paths will cross again in the future, and I look forward to when they do :)

[alexisbundy1-blog]

#13. Road Trippin’

Over the spring break, my father and I spent eight days (unnecessarily) visiting an assortment of colleges on the East Coast. We covered ground from New Hampshire down to North Carolina, which gave me a chance to visit new places and rediscover old ones. It was also a really nice chance to bond with my dad, who has been in and out of the country for the past few months. I’ve decided to summarize my trip to each state to give insight into what I experienced throughout the eight days.

BOSTON, MA: When I first visited Boston over the summer, I didn’t enjoy it as much as I thought I would. It was hot and sticky, I was with a group of people I didn’t really know, and I also had a ~slightly traumatic~ experience. However, when I re-visited the city with my dad, I began to understand the real appeal: great sports town, great community, great college town, tremendous amount of history, and there’s a lot happening. Though it was quite cold, the sun still shone from a relatively clear sky; at least there was no snow. It also didn’t hurt that the first hour of being in Boston was spent shopping on Newbury Street. I’d give Boston an 8/10. Keep doing you, Boston.

HANOVER, NH: First of all, Hanover was cold as heck. It actually snowed (what in tarnation) during my <24 hours in the town, and come 9am, it was 22°. Um, no thanks. But cold weather aside, you can instantly feel the tight-knit, small town atmosphere of Hanover the second you enter. As my dad and I explored the one mile radius of what is downtown Hanover, we came across a small poster/record/memorabilia shop where I received an unsolicited, but not really unwelcome, explanation of how to finesse my way into Dartmouth (even though I will not be applying there until maybe my second year of college, and most likely for a semester abroad). For me, Hanover was lovely, but it was a little isolated for me. I’ll give it a 6/10. (That’s also because of the weather)

NEW HAVEN, CT: After spending three weeks this summer confined to specific areas of New Haven, I felt pretty comfortable walking around the town, reminiscing on lunch dates at the nearby Shake Shack and all of the terrible mistakes I made at summer camp. I have to say, though, New Haven has the best pizza in the US, and I am more than ready to defend my statement if need be. New Haven’s also great because it’s an hour from Boston and an hour from New York; you can get the best of both worlds either way. Plus, I got to spend some time with Casti alum/one of my idols Lea Sparkman!!! But I didn’t get to see my one true idol, Paige Vermeer. RIP. Because I’m a little biased towards it, I’ll give the Dirty Have an 8/10.

NEW YORK CITY, NY: Literally five seconds upon my arrival, I was smothered by one of my best friends, who lives on the Lower East Side, and was whisked away from my hotel in Midtown to Times Square. One of my favourite rituals with said friend is to window shop at expensive department stores (Barney’s, Saks, Bergdorf Goodman in this case) and drop our jaws at the ridiculous pricing of the ridiculous clothing. I mean, a Fendi t-shirt for $875? A shirt that you could buy at Urban Outfitters for $30? Come on, now. But New York is always a treat, shoddy weather or not. New York will always get a 9/10 from me.

NEWARK, NJ: Because my father hails from NJ, we always make a visit to my uncle, who lives in Roselle Park, and spend time with my family. Prior to, we drove through the town of Princeton, and my father pointed out numerous places that held special places in his heart. For example: an intersection on a highway in which my mother and he were rear-ended. When we returned to my uncle’s neighbourhood - about an hour away from Princeton - we headed to the town where my father and he grew up and were treated to a good old-fashioned Italian meal at the local restaurant. After saying our goodbyes, Dad and I headed to our airport hotel, where it turned out that our booking hadn’t gone through, and my father’s true Jersey roots came into play. Jersey is Jersey, so I’ll give it a 6/10 (It would be a 5, but I have sentimental feelings towards NJ)

CHAPEL HILL, NC: I’ve always wanted to visit North Carolina, and honestly I was not disappointed. We were greeted with 80° (!!!) weather - a welcome change from a high of 51° - and Southern hospitality. Chapel Hill is such a beautiful area; I was blown away by it all. Everything was great until we ate dinner at a nearby restaurant. It wasn’t that the food was bad, but I found myself not being a fan of Southern food. Very heavy stuff. Regardless, though, NC had a really warm atmosphere that honestly surprised me. I’m ready to go back now. 9/10.

CHARLOTTESVILLE, VA: Okay so we didn’t actually spend more than 30 mins in Charlottesville. I know I have some friends here who are from Charlottesville, so I won’t diss their former town. But my trip through the state of Virginia was nothing less than...eye-opening. I’ve told this story about 923994 times already but it still leaves me in slight disbelief. After leaving NC and being in VA for all of five minutes, Dad and I were greeted with a 50-ft tall, 100-ft wide Confederate flag that hung from a 300-ft flagpole. I think what bewildered me the most is that it actually stood in existence; we all hear of Confederate statues and whatnot, but seeing a Confederate flag proudly blowing in the breeze before you is a sight you can’t unsee. Fast forward two hours, fried catfish sandwiches (that we most definitely didn’t eat) and all, we found ourselves yearning to get to the hotel. As it turns out, our hotel was not on campus, as advertised, but instead a mile out. My dad was so horrified by its dilapidated state that he made the executive decision to make another two-and-a-half hour trip to Arlington. Guys, I’m so sorry, but I’m going to have to give Charlottesville/the southern part of Virginia a 3/10. I hope my former Cvillians won’t hate me and will see my outsider’s perspective.

WASHINGTON, D.C.: I love Washington, D.C. very much. It didn’t hurt that my middle school trip to the nation’s capital was wonderful, and it also didn’t hurt that we happened to be visiting on a beautiful day. I mean, need I really say anymore? D.C. is awesome. It’s a city that, to quote my dad, “makes you proud to be an American.” If you take out all of the political corruption. D.C. gets a 9.5/10. Go you, D.C. 

And so concludes my rather exhausting trip. I am now sick and recovering from a virus that I picked up along the way, but I wouldn’t trade that trip for the world. Shoutout to my father for being the best driver and for having the stamina to do such an extensive, ambitious trip. And also for booking it to Arlington with no complaints. 

I’m sad that I won’t be attending college in the States for the first year (at least), but hey, transfers and semesters abroad exist. I don’t think the American college system has seen the last of Lexi Bundy just yet ;)

[alexisbundy1-blog]

12. just another #angsty post

It is another year and my family is taking advantage of Catholicism to spend another March/April weekend - well, weekend for me; week for my younger sisters - in one of the most beautiful places in the world. I am so fortunate to be able to call the warm beaches and palm trees my home. I should be jumping for joy and so elated when I am here.

And yet I find myself often saddened. 

I find myself sulking and isolated on my own terms and - on the not-so-rare occasion - weeping. But why? My lifelong friends are here; many firsts occurred here; it is so beautiful. Why am I so ungrateful?

It is not necessarily that I am ungrateful - because I’m really not; I am very very very very appreciative - but rather the bad memories that have occurred in the past incessantly linger around the area. I can pick any spot I like and recall the momentous event(s) that have happened there.

The park is one of them. The park that represented my childhood, my innocence ultimately represented the beginning of exploration, of romance, of...whatever the opposite of innocence is (sin? a corruption of the soul? I’m not so sure). 

Or the hammock by the pool where we sat and talked to one another. Revealing what books we were reading or what was piquing our interest in that moment while I silently hoped that the moment would never come to an end, that curfew was not just around the corner, that they did like me the way I liked them. 

Or the bench that sat on the sand parallel to the beach. The bench where I lay on the top while they sat on the seat next to me and read out “Poverty” by Pablo Neruda and I was convinced there and then that multiple tears would be shed and they told me it was okay to cry and I replied that I was trying. 

Or maybe it was not just a concrete place, but rather the stars. The fictitious stories of the stars told as we were walking home or just watching them below as the mere mortals we were, jealous of their supernova status in the sky. 

When I heard the news that they were finally leaving, goodbye, good riddance, I thought I would be so happy. Yes! Get out of my life once and for all! Leave, for you are unwanted here! But as much as they brought so many memories that are painful to recount, they were such a source of light. The reason I would want to go out and surround myself with “friends.” Making my heart race so fast I was certain I would suffer a heart attack. 

I wish they would come back and be my friend again. 

#why #am #i #so #angsty #it's kinda grey outside so

[alexisbundy1-blog]

#11 call me by ur name, and i’ll call u by mine

It was a rare moment for me: going out on a Friday night. Usually, I’m so exhausted at the end of the week that I take Friday nights for myself and sit in my room watching Netflix. Lame, I know, but it’s recharging.  

ANYWAY a few friends and I had been in discussion about seeing Call Me by Your Name. We set on a Friday night viewing and spent days bubbling with excitement. And then the time came, and frankly I was NOT ready for what was going to ensue.

On Friday afternoon, I began experiencing anticipatory anxiety, which plays a large role in why I rarely go out on the weekends (or ever). What if something bad happened in the movie theatre? What if I got into a car crash on the way there? What if-

I got over it. All four of us went to grab some food and then onto the movies. Lilah had already read the book, so I think she was the most excited; I was just super stoked to spend two hours gawping at the gorgeous Armie Hammer. I was also standing in as the chaperone, due to being the only one who was 17 and legally allowed in the movie. 

And so we went into the theatre. We were ready. It was beyond irritating to sit through 15 minutes of advertising because we needed the damn movie to start. When the movie started, there was adrenaline coursing through everyone’s veins. So. Much. Excitement.

I was weeping when the movie ended. I can’t speak for everyone else, but I know that I was - and have been - a total emotional wreck. The movie was almost sheer perfection. The filmography and visuals were stunning; the soundtrack was delicately beautiful; the acting was outstanding; the storyline was absolutely heart-wrenching; and it didn’t hurt that the two lead characters were...very easy on the eyes. 

More so than those components, it was the way the movie made me feel afterwards that really stuck with me. I realized how exciting, thrilling it is to be near someone that makes you feel all giddy and warm inside. Love is a peculiar feeling to have as a teenager, especially when your feelings are almost consistently invalidated by anyone over 25. “How can you know what love is? You’re just a kid.” But I know what love feels like. It feels like adrenaline and compassion and sadness and destruction and that feeling of euphoria when you hear the chorus of your favourite song. Feeling so enthralled that you might just vomit. I know what love feels like; it feels like Call Me by Your Name.

I find myself often being asked if there is anyone “special” in my life, to which I typically respond with “No, I’m too busy” or “No one’s good enough for me” (depending on who’s asking). I’m probably asked this question because a) I’m a teenaged girl and b) I’m not one to shy away from openly discussing what happens in my love life (just ask the people who surrounded our GIT group on the plane ride to Hong Kong). I had gotten over love finally this past summer. It was boring, unnecessary, and I had better things to worry about. It’s always funny hearing other girls at school who long for a boyfriend or girlfriend; I can only speak for the boyfriend component, and honestly, teenaged boys aren’t worth longing for 90% of the time (sorry, everyone).

But after seeing Call Me by Your Name, I began to miss love. I began to long for that rush of a crush, the excitement when you smell their cologne, the desire to not mess up and say something weird when you talk to them, but then you inevitably do so. I began to long for that feeling when they sit near you in class and all you can think about is them and the mystery of whether they like or back or not lingers in your mind until it takes up all of your brain capacity. It’s painful, really, but it’s also quite fun.

I began to miss the feeling of summer. Being in the vicinity of the tall boy with the eyes I love the most. The intoxicating combination of ocean spray and that typical aroma of men’s cologne that lingers even after you’re no longer near the person whom the scent belongs to. There’s always someone who these characteristics belong to; sometimes it’s the same person, and other times it’s a new body. But the feeling is the same. Sometimes it hits you way too fast; other times it takes three years to fully digest. But it’s all there.

Sometimes you end up falling in love with someone that you shouldn’t. Sneaking out at midnight and having the night all to yourselves. The silence, the darkness, the sparkle of the scattered stars among the pitch black canvas. It’s a beautiful feeling, finally being able to convey all the emotions that you feel throughout the day, but have to save for the night. Looking each other in the eye, heart racing and palms sweating, but no “love you’s” until it’s at least 1am. Knowing their quirks and passions and strengths and weaknesses. Reading each other poetry, knowing each other’s favourite poems, holding hands as you walk down the empty street; you're unable to imbibe in the glory of it all because you have to keep track of time. 

And then it’s all over.

I think I do envy the girls who get to feel love every day, regardless of whether it’s at school or in the world outside of it. I think sometimes we feel too good for love because we want to focus on ourselves, our grades, our future. We sometimes think that being a “strong independent woman” means being emotionless. But it’s okay to want love. It’s okay to be ready to shed the wall that protects us from unveiling vulnerability and emotions. It’s okay to get hurt and to experience that pain. 

It’s okay to love. 

P.S. here is a small selection of songs that are reminiscent of feeling in love:

Love by Lana Del Rey Mystery of Love by Sufjan Stevens The Louvre by Lorde Wonderwall (lol) by Oasis Adorn by Miguel Just Like Heaven by The Cure She Bangs the Drums by The Stone Roses Heroes by David Bowie

#i thought i was over it all #guess not lol

[alexisbundy1-blog]

#10 ~discovery~

The question is posed: What did you bring back from your trip to China?

My answer varies, depending on who is asking me. For example: a fellow student? Memories! A teacher? Knowledge, wisdom, experience! Ms. Kertsman? Embracing ambiguity!!

But for my blog post, I want to keep it candid. What did I truly bring back from my trip to China? Three things: nostalgia, gratitude, and relief that I am alive. 

I am well aware my last answer sounds rather rude. Wow, Lexi, you come back from this amazing trip and you thought you were going to die? Just because you’re in another country on another continent doesn’t mean you’re going to die. To which I would probably respond, rather rudely, I know. I’m from another country on another continent. 

I’d prefer to answer the first two points, though. In spite of all the complaining and crying I did while in China (it’s hard for me not to admit it), I look back on everything in a positive light. The breathtaking temples, the mouthwatering food, the gorgeous scenery -- I mean, why wouldn’t you want to go back? Southwestern China is absolutely stunning, and I’d do anything to be able to sit myself in the Tibetan Buddhist monastery in Lijiang for months upon end. In addition to my nostalgia for China, I really feel sincere gratitude for the once-in-a-lifetime experience I was able to partake in. It’s not every day that, as a high school junior, you’re able to just pack up your bags and say, “Hey, I’m going to China with 21 other girls from school!” I will always have endless gratitude for this truly life-changing trip.

To address my third point, it should be noted that, despite the fact that I hop on a plane more often than not, I have a fear of flying. True statement. It’s only slightly easier for me to fly with my family because, well, if we go down, then at least we go down together. But the trip to China required 15 hours on a plane with 21 other girls and no family members = PANIC. The entire trip, my biggest worry was whether I’d make it home to my parents alive, safe and sound. This is no disrespect to China whatsoever; in fact, everywhere we went was pretty safe (you can’t say anything is 100% safe, let’s be real here). But my mind refused to acknowledge that, and so for the entirety of 10+ days, I lived in constant fear that this was my ending; my brain managed to come up with five new scenarios every day about how I would die at the temple or the artist studio or the calligraphy lesson or the HOTEL for God’s sake. I pictured myself tumbling down the staircase of my homestay essentially every time I walked down it. I was convinced every single flight was going to crash. I was sure I was going to die on our extremely turbulent flight from Lijiang to Kunming.

(I was so terrified, in fact, that the instructors had to reassure me that all the flights from Lijiang to Kunming were very bumpy. They could see the terror in my eyes.)

I had never felt any more relief than I did when we landed at SFO. I was ALIVE. I LIVED. I MADE IT. And yet I found myself starting to miss China, even though I was almost convinced I wouldn’t at the beginning of the trip.

So now I carry the nostalgia and the gratitude with me everywhere I go. The relief still sets in every so often. Relief that I have my Western toilet. Relief that I can eat food that varies from just rice and vegetables and Oreos. And most importantly, relief that I did end up going on the trip after all.

Thanks for everything, GIT 2018 :)

[alexisbundy1-blog]

#9 Homesick

I love a sunburnt country, A land of sweeping plains, Of ragged mountain ranges, Of droughts and flooding rains. I love her far horizons, I love her jewel-sea, Her beauty and her terror - The wide brown land for me! - Dorothea MacKellar, “My Country”

Recently I’ve been finding myself rather empty. It’s been five years since I left the sun-scorched land that birthed me and raised me and made me half the person I am. In the first six months, I was enveloped in pure homesickness; I plotted my return through plans of attending boarding school and living with my grandparents or my best friend, wanting to hide away in the bush and the gum trees instead of the redwoods. I managed to adjust by seventh grade, but this year, as I watch my friends enter the twelfth grade and prepare for the graduation in late October, I can’t help but feel that something is amiss. That those years dreaming of Senior School and graduating at seventeen instead of eighteen and following the traditional Australian path of life were just wasted.

I miss when people wouldn’t consistently ask me if I owned a kangaroo or knew what a koala was and if I had one in my backyard. I miss when people wouldn’t make fun of me for pronouncing my r’s as ‘ah’ or for saying ‘jumpah’ instead of ‘sweatshirt.’ Each failed attempt at what my voice sounds like is so aggravating, but retaliations are futile because there are worse things to be made fun of than the way you speak so I just suck it up. 

I miss the routine caw of the magpies and the squeals of the kookaburras and the way the sunlight gently crept through the blinds in the morning. No need for alarms when nature wakes you up so beautifully at 6:45am. I miss the sway of the tall trees in the backyard, the view of the neighbour’s house; the way that the swimming pools glimmer in the summer and hide under blue tarps in the winter. I miss Santa wearing shorts and barbeques and sausage sizzles at field hockey games. 

I just miss my home. I miss my people. I miss my sunburnt country.

Poem source: https://allpoetry.com/poem/8526595-My-Country-by-Dorothea-Mackellar

[alexisbundy1-blog]

#8 Tunnel Vision

I’m not one for TED talks, honestly -- I find them rather lackadaisical, and I’m usually the only one in a conversation that cannot relate when the topic of such videos come up in discussion. Today, however, felt a little different.

Whenever I hear Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie speak, it’s truly like birds singing after being released from a cage. Her words and eloquence are enlightening, refreshing, real. I cannot relate to every single word she says, but her words jump off the page, roll off her tongue in a way that I can fully understand. I know her target is not privileged white girls who attend private schools, but there’s a resonance in her speeches that is so powerful, and I thoroughly appreciate it. 

In her TED talk about the danger of single storytelling - that is, the storytelling of a single type of person or group of persons from a single perspective - the resonance bounced from Adichie’s words and onto my lap, revealing a truth that I had never realized before, yet it made total sense to me. Not only had I seen such single storytelling in books I’d read, but I saw it in my everyday life. I saw it in the lack of political correctness and the racial stereotypes in my country; I saw it in the books I’d read by British authors such as Roald Dahl and Jacqueline Wilson; I saw it on the news; it was everywhere. 

If I ever said that I have never fallen for single storytelling in my life, I would be totally lying. For example, I’ve fallen for the idea that Americans are overweight, obese, fast-food consuming beasts that all have weird accents (I guess one contributor could be my father from New Jersey; sorry, Dad). But boy, was I wrong: essentially every person in my middle-school class partook in sports such as soccer, baseball, basketball, and track. And they were all skinny, and a majority hated McDonald’s. The latter made me really upset. 

Castilleja changed my “tunnel vision” perspective on a lot of different things - mainly because of the politically correct force that I’ve mentioned before - and it most definitely has taught me to not make assumptions before heading to China this December. I can’t wait to see the multiple stories I’m yet to witness on the Global Investigator Trip.

[alexisbundy1-blog]

#7 Tragedy (again)

Tuesday saw the deadliest attack in New York City since 9/11; there were eight fatalities and at least eleven injuries. Of the eight fatalities, five were Argentinian students, one was a Belgian national, and two were young Americans. 

As a national superpower, America doesn’t want to admit that we live in constant terror. But we do. At least I do. Panicking on airplane rides and in enclosed venues and walking on the street, wondering if it would be my last moment on Earth or not. 

I think about the weaponry a lot. About the accessibility of an AK-47 or the rifles on display at Big 5. I think about the totally outdated Second Amendment, which many hide behind for their defense against gun control. How, at its time of writing, citizens only had the right to bare arms because they didn’t have a military to be protected by; when they did, it was potentially the shoddiest army America had ever seen. 

When in discussion over gun control, I get the most heated when the argument of “people in rural areas need them” comes up. Okay, so if countrysiders need guns the most, why are we finding them in the drawers of suburban homes and the shelves of downtown sport stores and in the hands of gangbangers? Why are we still following the one of the most irrelevant amendments when this nation has one of the strongest militias known to man? WHY ARE OUR CHILDREN ABLE TO ACCESS MILITARY-LEVEL WEAPONRY?

I know the New York accident has nothing to do with guns. But the next day, in the same city, there was a shooting in the East Village, and there was another at a Walmart in Colorado this morning. And you know what the sad thing is? I didn’t feel any shock or sorrow or heart pains. I shrugged, and I sighed. Welcome to America. Land of the fear, home of the brave. 

[alexisbundy1-blog]

#6 Oh! The Humanities

About a week or so ago, I visited the library upon the demand of my friend, who desired to check out the latest Neil deGrasse Tyson book on astrophysics that had arrived. We went, and my friend checked out her book. As the librarian was in the process, I mentioned I was reading a book on the history of music - for context, there is nothing I love more in this life than music. I’ve mentioned the same book in a previous post, but that’s a separate digression. Anyway, so I mentioned the book, and the librarian said she had a recommendation for me. I got excited; I’d always been looking for a good novel that has music intertwined with it. So she handed me the book, and I flipped through a couple of pages, and I felt slightly humiliated - the book was most definitely targeted for children entering the seventh grade. But I checked it out anyway. I made a little joke as we left: she left with a book about astrophysics, and I got a children’s book.

But the joke covered up some personal feelings. Why is it that everything that involves STEM is deemed intellectual and complex and adult, but the humanities are subconsciously frowned upon, especially at Castilleja? Why is it that I was unable to take any honours or AP classes in English and history in my first two years of high school, and now that I’m finally able to take an AP in both of those classes, it’s the class that everyone is taking? Why is it that my friend gets the adult option while I get the bedtime story?

Like I said, I’m very interested in music. Personally, I feel like there’s no good coverage of pop culture or music in the Casti library that’s equal to the sciences or math or even politics. My personal opinion is that pop culture is just as important; it’s the stuff that shapes our teenage years, the nostalgia that we look back upon, the events that change our worlds. Why is there no High Fidelity, no Black Noise, no Girl in a Band, no Just Kids? I know that there are girls at this school who want - no, need - to read such books. I see these talented girls who thrive off of weekend band practices and School of Rock, and I think about how much they would love those books. 

But music is in its own category. The humanities is just as important to life as STEM, and I feel like they are pushed down at Castilleja. In ninth and tenth grade, we had coding projects, and with all due respect, I was bored out of my mind and completely unmotivated. I think the girls who want to code should code, and the girls who want to write should write, and the girls who want to be mathematicians should be mathematicians, and the girls who want to work in the government should work in the government. I understand the point of the project was to boost female empowerment in STEM, but we girls as a collective group don’t want to code. Coding should most definitely be an option, because some girls don’t have time to join Gatorbotics. So make it a C-block choice. And I enjoy writing for Counterpoint, I really do; but it’s not as great as it could be, and we’re not pushing people to take a journalism C-block option. 

It’s hard because we live in the technological utopia of Silicon Valley, where HP and Apple and Google rule the bubble we live in. Castilleja as a school wants to empower its students if they want to join an industry that bolsters men, but not women. I 100% appreciate that and I stand behind the idea, but some girls just want to move to New York City and write for the Times or report for CNN or teach a literature lecture at Columbia. No one is pushing the idea that Stanford is looking for humanities specialists to balance out their tech geniuses. Do we even have a debate team? 

Apologies for this anger-laced blog post, but a girl wants to dream, and it’s hard when the dream is the middle child in between the science-y older sister and the mathematical younger brother.  

[alexisbundy1-blog]

#5 Yeah Yeah Yeah! No! No! No!

Last night, I began reading a book I bought maybe a year and a half ago titled Yeah Yeah Yeah! The Story of Pop Music from Bill Haley to Beyoncé. As I delved into the first two chapters, I couldn’t help but observe how blatantly white rock stars took from black musicians. Like, seriously: when describing Bill Haley’s rise to fame due to his hit teen anthem “Rock Around the Clock,” author Bob Stanley writes about how Haley’s popularity increased when he began incorporating rhythm and blues into his music. R&B is a historically black genre that originated with the migration of African-Americans to urban centers, such as Detroit, Chicago, LA, and NYC. It intermingled with the jazz and blues played by many black artists. Bill Haley, a white musician from Highland Park, Michigan, had achieved a few successes on the Billboard charts, but it was the release of “Rock Around the Clock” that really shook up the world. It became known as an international teen anthem, hit number one on the charts, and eventually was the theme song for the 1970s sitcom Happy Days. 

At the time, rhythm and blues was known as “race music,” but this was later changed to rhythm and blues post-World War II (for obvious reasons). In Stanley’s writing, the author does not suggest that Haley took the wave of rhythm and blues and rode it into mainstream music, but it can most definitely be interpreted that way. After “Rock Around the Clock,” more rhythm and blues songs became popular - after white singers covered them. Here are a few examples:

“Shake, Rattle, and Roll” - originally by Big Joe Turner; popularized by Bill Haley & His Comets

“Hound Dog” - originally by Big Mama Thornton; popularized by Elvis Presley

“Louie Louie” - originally by Richard Berry; popularized by The Kingsmen

And no blog post on how white artists stole historically black music without mention of Elvis. Growing up, Elvis hung out in the black music center of Beale Street in Tupelo, Mississippi, and was a big fan of blue music. Yes, Elvis is mainly known for his dance moves that were inappropriate for the time, but another large controversy for the King lies in this one quote: “The obscenity and vulgarity of the rock ‘n’ roll music is obviously a means by which the white man and his children can be driven to the level of the [black man].” This is obviously a disgusting observation, but it also reflects on the fact that black artists were given essentially no credit for creating the pop music we love today. 

Yeah! Yeah! Yeah? No, no, NO! 

[alexisbundy1-blog]

#4 When I was in the third grade...

WARNING: some of the things I’ve written here might be offensive to some people. also i used to have a really close minded way of thinking but i don’t anymore so please don’t attach my 10 year old self to my 16 year old self we are different people!!!!!!!

Currently, my native Australia is voting on whether to legalize same-sex marriage. It’s a divided issue with many young liberals in support of legalizing gay marriage, while older conservatives believe that a civil union is enough. At the moment, the country is being run by a conservative party under Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull. Recently, he admitted he was voting for the legalization, which surprised many. The country will be completing a postal ballot that will be announced on November 12. 

On Sunday night, American rapper Macklemore performed at the National Rugby League grand finals in Sydney. NRL is a big deal in Australia, and many natives gather round the television to watch the final match. Prior to his performance, it was spread that Macklemore would perform his hit “Same Love,” a song about same-sex love that was written to encourage the legalization of marriage equality in the United States (side-note: marriage equality was legalized 3 years after the song was released). More than 18,000 Australians signed a petition prohibiting Macklemore performing the song, citing a discomfort with politicizing a rugby match. However, Channel Nine, the TV station airing the match, ignored the petition and continued to allow Macklemore’s performance.

And boy, were people pissed. Here are a few examples:

Former PM Tony Abbott, another conservative leader, argued, “Footy (rugby) fans shouldn’t be subjected to a politicized grand final.” Channel Nine aired a ‘Vote No’ commercial funded by anti-gay marriage lobbyists. And this is a legitimate quote I found from conservative MP Bob Katter:

"If they take the most sacred day of the year, outside of Christmas, and use it to promote their sexual proclivities, that is an insult and an offense to every single follower of rugby league in this country."

But regardless of the negative comments, many Australians are thrilled with Macklemore’s performance. In fact, “Same Love” has hit number one on the Australian iTunes charts, and Macklemore is being consistently praised online for his performance. 

In my years growing up in Sydney, I was raised in a slightly conservative household. My parents voted for the Liberal party (the conservatives), and this year my extended family were in support of Donald Trump. I was completely unaware of my family’s conservativeness until I moved to the United States, where I found out that my father was actually a lifelong Democrat and I, well, attended Castilleja. I began to have a more open mindset and had a complete 180-degree turn on my initial thoughts on many subjects. 

I was also exposed to a liberal American way of thinking, both through History and reading. 

In fifth grade, I read a portion of Pretty Little Liars, where one of the main characters is gay. At first, I thought this was rather odd, and frankly, it made me uncomfortable. But in moving to California, I re-read the novel and found myself totally supportive. My brain didn’t shut down and gross out when I read about Emily’s discovering of her own sexuality; I was fine with it. What was the point of me caring?

I became more exposed to same-sex relationships as time went on: in Bad Kid by David Crabb, in learning about the Stonewall riots and Harvey Milk in history classes, and Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin. The fact that Castilleja pressures one to have a liberal mindset aside, I found myself becoming far more open to the idea of two boys or two girls loving one another, and I slapped myself for thinking too much of it earlier. There truly was nothing wrong with two people in love, no matter their sex, I believed. 

As I continue to delve into more American literature and learn more about this nation’s history, I learn more about how American culture really influences other countries; for the first time, I’m hoping that America will influence Australia in this big decision. 

Sources: http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/tv-and-radio/nrl-grand-final-2017-macklemore-calls-for-equality-after-performance-of-same-love-20171001-gyscn9.html

https://www.sbnation.com/lookit/2017/9/28/16378454/macklemore-nrl-rugby-league-grand-final-same-love-debate-marriage-equality-australia

[alexisbundy1-blog]

#3 A Prisoner, or a Leader?

Today saw a discussion of being fearful or stepping up to the plate, simply disguised as the title “Prisoner or Leader?” The subsets of this “Prisoner or Leader” were questions such as ‘What do you do when the food you’re presented with is not all that appealing?’ and ‘What happens when you have to share a bathroom with strangers and your Casti peers, except the toilet has no door or toilet paper and it’s actually a hole in the ground?’

In December, I’ll be flying with at least a dozen other girls to a rural part of China for our Global Investigators Trip. The last time I set foot in anything relative to China, I believe, was a holiday in Hong Kong in 2007; perhaps it’s not the best precedent for a trip to rural China. Quite frankly, I’m nervous: nervous for the discomfort that comes with entering a country nothing like your own; nervous for a lack of doors and toilet paper in the bathroom. But I don’t plan on being a so-called “prisoner.” Leadership is in my blood. It’s a part of who I am; a paramount characteristic that makes up Lexi Bundy in her everyday life.  

I know for sure there will be multiple times where the “prisoner” option will seem so much easier than being the first to expose themselves to a line of strangers, but the purpose of this trip is not only to learn, but to also experience life out of your comfort zone. In the bubble of Silicon Valley - and Castilleja - we’re not encouraged often to step outside of said comfort zones, and why should we? Why should we when we can take advantage of the Range Rovers we drive and the money we are able spend on school tuition? But we should, because life will not always be Range Rovers and private school. And with this learning adventure to China, I look forward to becoming a leader, not a prisoner. Why be a prisoner to fear? 

[alexisbundy1-blog]

#2 Home.

There’s always a difference between a house and a home. House is the physical shelter, but home is the emotional one: the one that welcomes you in with warmth and the smell of freshly-brewed coffee. You can’t see home, but you can always feel it. Your brain relaxes and your heart expands the second you enter that home because they both know that it’s your place of comfort, the place you can always retreat to when times are tough.

Home, to me, is the sound of cockatoos and kookaburras at 7 in the morning, and trains sprinting across the metal tracks at 11 at night. Home is the heat of a duvet and the solace of a mattress while the rain pitter-patters outside through the purple darkness. Home is the embrace of mother and father after a day of beatings from the education system.

But homes change, just like houses do; because kookaburras and cockatoos can’t travel 11,940 km across the Pacific, and rain is uncommon in Northern California. 

So home becomes the chill of 7 in the morning that becomes evident on car windows. Home becomes the furry sofa that watches as scenes from the mother country play out from the screen above. Home becomes endless tears and more embraces than ever before and an unfamiliar sense of filial unity that I’ve never felt before.

And homes come in multiples, just like houses do; because palm trees exist in other states, and the sun still shines across the Atlantic.

Home has the pink and orange that decorate the sky as the sun falls to rest. Home has the warm breeze that carries ocean salt with it for miles and miles and miles. Home has loud music and complaints from neighbours and maniacal laughter and regrettable mistakes and friendship that turns into love. 

Someone once sang that a house is not a home. And I could agree. Because truly, a house is not a home without its emotional components.  

[alexisbundy1-blog]

#1 American: A definition by an Australian

Growing up overseas, I had the privilege of viewing Americans from both ends of the spectrum: as an outsider, and as an insider. With an American father and multiple hours spent in U.S. customs lines, I viewed myself as half-Australian, half-American: someone who ate Vegemite and drank chocolate milkshakes. I understood American lingo while keeping up with the slang of my native country; I shopped at Macy’s and Nordstrom as well as at Myer and David Jones; I knew “The Star-Spangled Banner” and “Advanced Australian Fair.” 

But in spite of all of this, I don’t actually see myself as an American.

To me, an American is an idiosyncratic creature that us outsiders know so much, yet so little about. They seem so ruthless, so impolite, so proud of their country; but they also seem kind, compassionate, welcoming, and sometimes deprecating towards the land they belong to. 

And every outsider wants this best of both worlds. 

An American is the popular girl in a teen movie that struts confidently through the catwalk of the high school corridor; everyone wants her beauty, her conviction, her long legs that extend to South Korea and Great Britain. An American holds their head high and believes they are always right, even if they’re truly not. An American can spit both venom and sugar with the exaggeration of their r’s and a’s. 

Outsiders can only watch Americans from within their cages. We watch as they gulp down their extra-large Cokes and inhale their double-cheeseburgers from McDonald’s. We gawp at their odd political pendulums; conservative to liberal to conservative to liberal once more. We take their goods from their cages: Hollywood and Universal Records and The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. 

But we never go into the cages; it’s much too frightening. Americans are scary creatures. And as someone who has been into those cages, I sometimes wish I hadn’t.