murielatboardingschool-blog
Muriel at Boarding School
Muriel at Boarding School:
In the middle of a story as it’s still being told. I wish I could flip to the last page, or even the next chapter, because being stuck as the main character in my own tale is too suspenseful.
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April 27th, 2013: Cornel West? Cornel West.
It seems like boarding school life is so much more fast-paced than regular life. I guess living in a rigorously busy environment fast forwards so many things I do regularly. I always seem to have the next commitment, or the homework assignments I have to cram into the fifteen minutes between, or those ten minutes I need to get to the music building. Now that I am on a short break/long weekend, I finally have time to slow down and observe my surroundings that were previously blurred because of my hectic schedule. For one thing, spring is finally here! I now also have time to record and reflect on important events that happened in the past few weeks.
I thought a good place to start with the catching-up is an extraordinary visitor we had a few weeks ago. Cornel West (feel free to Google him) is a philosopher, author, and activist among other things. Frankly, one reason as to why his speech was so well received is his fame. He is definitely an amazing public speaker but most students cannot recall the message of the speech he gave to us that day because all they noticed was his fame.
I signed up for a luncheon with him and was lucky enough to sit at the reserved seats and talk to him personally. He is exceptionally inspiring not only because he knows how to motivate and excite youth with fresh thoughts, but also because he knows the importance in making all of us feel important. One aspect of his speech addressed the fact that our generation would be the ones to make the difference. He worried for our generation, but every single day, he sees improvement. He sees ordinary people accomplishing amazing feats and the range of our collective human minds getting broader and broader. He is a man who is not afraid of stating his opinion. In fact, he told us specifically about his experiences with harsh critics who oppose his opinions by targeting him blatantly.
It is hard to relay everything he said that day but they still resound in my head. He started with the importance of education, stating several times how fortunate we are to be able to attend a prestigious boarding school. He then moved on to several different topics spanning from the pursuit of justice to the power of our own generation. I still have so much to learn, not just from him, but in general. But I think this is a good place to start, a rigorous environment with flashes of inspiration in the form of speakers.
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April 15th, 2013: Boston Bombings
I have so much to say about my own life but at times like these, how can I? How can I obsess about my little petty worries? How can I complain about how truly fortunate I am?
It's at times like these when the lines between good and bad blur, when I refresh CNN over and over again only to see the fatalities rise from 1, to 2, to 3. When I see people burst out crying or clenching their fists because they still cannot contact their loved ones. When I see people yelling in relief because their family is safe. When I see people yelling because they have lost faith in humanity. A beautiful marathon race with the intention of promoting peace ended on a bitter note as terror proved to be prominent in modern society.
Gandhi pulls me through these hard times: "You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty." I posted this quote in the ask boxes of the people stating on Tumblr that they have lost hope in humanity. I have gotten mixed responses, ranging from "Thanks for the beautiful quote!" to "But there are buckets and buckets of these dirty drops contaminating our ocean."
In response, I conjure up another one of my favourite quotes said by Fred Rogers: "When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’ To this day, especially in times of disaster, I remember my mother’s words and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers — so many caring people in this world."
Or this article.
Even though President Obama did not mention the words "terror" or "terrorism" in his statement earlier, these words have been lingering on everyone's lips. It does not need to be said for people to feel the impact of such a concept. Every time I take off my shoes at JFK for a domestic flight, every time I hear stories of my Turkish friend's father getting "randomly" checked by security, every time September 11th comes around, I am reminded of the dark cloud we are currently living under. This is why we need Gandhi and Fred Rogers. This is why we need wisdom and perseverance. This is why we need each other to remind ourselves that peace is a common struggle.
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March 28th, 2013: Everyone's emotional tonight... I want to be there for them!
College decisions came out today for all the seniors! Amid choruses of 'You got in?' 'She got in?' 'No way!' 'Congratulations!" and other various outcries of happiness/sadness, I am genuinely trying to understand all this chaos and help whoever I can.
College acceptances are so uncertain, so unexpected that any ninth-grader trying to contemplate its complexity will be left with dampened soul and a throbbing migraine. There are people who, in my knowledge, are amazing. They have great personalities, work very hard, strive to do their best, understand their passions, but still do not get into the school of their dreams. And then there are the people who I do not like as much, who I know are not as noble, that get into the college of their dreams. How about geographical location? And socioeconomic status? Or just plain race? There are countless little things about the applicants that they cannot change about themselves that rise above the surface and are deemed important. It's frustrating, but again the unfairness of life strikes.
I am a fervent believer that everyone will end up with they are meant to be. College, or even your job, or your marriage, these events are only little lego blocks in your life, building up to a full tower that you will not see until it is completed.
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March 26, 2013: Chapped Lips
First, I feel obligated to apologize (to you? to myself? to January Muriel?) because I have obviously not posted anything in the past four weeks. Yes, it was my spring break and yes, I did resolve to post something on here but -FAMILY FRIENDS PIANO TENNIS MATH OTHER PREOCCUPATIONS.
Okay, as much as I would love to post some deep heartfelt post about my current status in life (worrying about-?), I've decided to start on something a little more trivial as I'm settling into the first week of the Spring Term!
My lips are horribly chapped and i have no idea how. Maybe it was the plane ride. Maybe it was the dryness or humidity of the hotel I stayed at. Maybe it was just me biting my lips too much? I don't know but it has always been a problem of mine. My lips turn startling red and the top of my upper lip/bottom of my bottom lip start crusting and flaking off with dry skin. The surrounding area also flush pink as my lips bloat up and feel like crumpled up plastic. Whenever my lips touch anything salty, the salt immediately stings the cracks and numbs my lip temporarily.
It's a problem.
I smothered a grossly unnatural amount of lip balm all over my lips and surrounding area and now my lips feel number. Hopefully, it's going to heal soon because it's starting to get windy.
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-Pablo Neruda
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March 2, 2013: T minus 14 Hours
In exactly 14 hours, I will be on a bus on my way to JFK airport heading back home! My heart is clenched with anxiety, apprehension, and overwhelming relief.
I'm a big planner, always plotting down my commitments and mentally running over places to be and people to see. With this trait at this time of year, my brain automatically scrolls through a list of my accomplishments and failures through this dreary/beautiful (depends on how you see it) winter term. Okay, this next paragraph is the designated sections for grade obsessing (feel free to skip over if you have previously shown symptoms of clogged veins or excessive hyperventilation when grades are mentioned):
My winter term grades will be released over the internet over the course of next week and I know that my arms will (of their own accord with the cajoling of my brain) check the website every hour. The difference between the Third Form Winter Term Grade Release and the Third Form Fall Term Grade Release is that I am not going to check the website until this Friday (!). I will physically restrain myself from typing the URL in the browser, even if that means staying away from my computer. If my grades are still not released then, I will not check it again until Sunday, and so forth. It's going to be hard, maybe the hardest thing I have ever done, but I believe it is a necessary life skill to possess as I climb higher and higher on the Hierarchy of Grade Importance (or HGI). I have put my heart and soul this past term and I should be satisfied with whatever I get.
-thus ends the Grade Obsessing-
I still have to pack, but I have my guitar right next to me, a large soundtrack compiled by my roommate and I for this occasion, and a cup of hot chocolate.
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-T.S. Eliot
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February 22, 2013: The Little Things
The happiest human on Earth is the human who appreciates the little things in life. As cliché or overused this concept is, I find it important for me to contemplate on such a phenomenon.
It's tiring, sometimes. As life normally is. No matter where you are, who you are, how you are - Life can get plenty tiring. The energy and fervent passion you possessed just minutes ago can be sucked out in a matter of seconds. This is why I admire people who brand themselves as 'optimistic' above all other adjectives to describe themselves.
The storm cloud of giant academic assessments loom above my head and gnaw at the back of my brain, but this morning they had by favourite oats and grains for breakfast. I have a minor concussion, but I was introduced to Jamie Cullum's life-changing jazz rendition of "Come Together". I got into a quarrel with my mother, but I incorporated a Keats quote in my essay about Augustus and my teacher liked it. The laundry service lost my favourite pair of socks, but I actually had the time and the internet connection to watch President Obama's live fireside Google Plus chat! And I used a new word in my short story. And I played an hour of tennis. And I have food on the table and clothes on my back.
The glass looks the same from every angle. Half-full, half-empty, what's the difference? It is still the same glass, just a different person with a different personality looking at it.
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-Mother Teresa
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Feb 6th, 2013: Cookies in the Dorm
I swore they were sitting there around an hour ago. Innocent, untouched, piled high in its crumby and sugary goodness. Sitting atop a pink flowered plate, above the counter, next to the water kettle.
The chocolate chips were too sweet. The doughy flavour was too prominent. The edges were burnt and they hurt my teeth. Born from the cardboard mix box, blending through the stages of amorphous blob-hood, and finally taking shape as hard-crust gems. When you're in a dorm, however, the quality of the cookies really do not matter in any way. If it's out on the counter, it's a free for all.
I'm still pretty sure Annie baked them. I have absolutely no idea what for, neither do the other girls who shoved them in their mouths. My taste buds liked them quite a bit.
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February 2nd, 2013: The Boston T at 7 pm
It is actual madness. Startling, crippling torrents of human beings smushed against hair, and limbs, doors, and each other. My arms are stretched high above my head, clutching the silver bar by digging my nails into the palm of my hand. I rotate the balls of my feet so I can better find my center of gravity, shuffling back and forth to the rhythm of the unsteady rocking of the subway (T) itself.
The bus swerves slightly, and I brace myself for the worst. It comes to an expected, yet still unexpected, halt as muffled shrieks ring out in the pod and I feel gravity pushing my body forwards.
Someone steps on my foot, and I kick someone's bag (mumbling a quick apology). The conductor is directing for everyone to make way and people pour out and people flood in and the doors try to shut close but it is stuck and they try again and people close their eyes as the T jerks forward again and on goes the tune of the Boston T at 7 pm.
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February 1, 2013: Ice Hockey
His body slams into the wall with a whipping crack as the puck flies across the court, crashing against the frame of the goal. Ice Hockey, especially Boys' Varsity Ice Hockey, fills the entire room with noise and delights our hearts with that rush of adrenaline.
The sharp blade scratches against the ice, causing tiny shards to fly under his skates, and cutting dangerously close to another player's face. The puck is still being tossed around and sought after like that bowl of stale milk starving cats fight for. Every eye in the arena is trained on the tiny black round object as it whizzes and glides about the entire court, slamming into players' feet and bouncing off walls.
Blurs of red and white fill my eyes, I only recognize the team I'm cheering for by the bright red each player dons for the game. Stark numbers shout out identities, and allow for great chants to be improvised by the audience. Blaring red digits are shown on the scoreboard, indicating a tie of 0-0. It seems like the referee has the hardest job. He is always fixated upon the puck, skating around left and right while keeping out of the players' way, making sure he does not interfere with the game in any way while trying to make the game as fair as possible.
There's something graceful about this barbaric game. Players are piled on top of each other in a mad scramble for the puck as sticks are colliding against helmets and skates are scratching against mouth guards and the referee is blowing the whistle and the bright red diminishes and the audience screams in fury and...But if you ignore all that, ignore all the competition and rivalry, all the sweat and tears, all the bright lights and dim dreams, there is something more. There is something in the way a player's eyes light up when the puck is almost in his possession. There is something in the way a player glides with the grace of a ballerina and balances himself on the slippery ice with ease. There is something in the way the puck swooshes through the net and causes the entire mass of people to yell. There is something in the way a simple game can rouse the hearts of so many.
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January 30th, 2013: Impatience and Time
Kids, playing on swings, braiding hair, laughing at burps, cannot wait until they reach a certain age. An age, a gate they have to knock down, until they can be hailed as grown up. Teenagers, succumbing to peer pressure, shying away from large crowds, mocking the government, cannot wait until we reach a certain age. An age that defines the start of adulthood.
There are so many seconds in a day. So many days in a year. So many years in a lifetime. After high school we have college.Then we have families, and bills, and jobs... When the future seems so close yet still so far, humans tend to yearn for the ability to stop time. To travel through time.
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January 25th, 2013: Model United Nations and Hope
In New Haven right now, filled with beef, M&Ms, and dry saliva. Our Model United Nations conference in Yale has just started, with our first meeting running from 9pm to 11pm.
I have around thirteen tabs open right now, ranging from East Jerusalem to the Legal Status of Palestinian Refugees. I don't really know how to feel other than just "ANXIOUS". I am the only ninth grader out of twenty students representing my school, and the captains are always joking around about how I am going to bring home to prizes.
I cannot help but feel hopeful. It's human to feel hopeful, even if my chances are slim to none. Imagine that one moment, when my name, my name, will be called by the Secretary-General of Yale MUN as best delegate? Or best positon paper? Or anything at all?
All I can do is try my best and hope for the best.
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-Martin Luther King Jr
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