December 13, 2012 § Leave a comment
Today in biology I cut a fetal pig’s heart clean in half and felt absolutely nothing. Could the symbolism be any more transparent?
Alright Heather, cut the melodrama.
Playing the beautiful loving character that is Hope Cladwell all fall opened my eyes, I think I may be a bitch. At a young age I prided myself on my altruistic personality, now I wonder where that compassion has escaped to. I look at the small handful of people I’ve lost due to my over competitive attitude, low tolerance, and fear of commitment. I see faces that I’m glad have nothing to do with me anymore, and one face that I wish I could make look me in the eyes again.
I think about who I was exactly one year ago. I think about the guy who was supposed to remain my best friend for the rest of my life, the same guy who I can’t even say hello to in class. While I hesitate to throw out the term “used,” I never though I’d be the one taking advantage. I fear heading down the same path again.
August 31, 2012 § Leave a comment
Nearly one year ago, I began Sophomore year with this word in mind. It was time to break lose, roll with the punches, and stop meticulously planning every second of my life.
I look back on the last 12 months with many regrets, but the satisfaction of doing things I thought I never would.
I think about Heather from a year ago, and then look at who I am now. Appearance wise, I haven’t changed. Experience wise, I have grown more than ever before (despite the fact that my height hasn’t changed an inch). I’ve make breakthroughs, and I’ve made mistakes. I’ve gained best friends, and I’ve lost them too.
A big theme this year has been bravery. From a young age I’ve been incredibly timid, and it does not do me justice. This year I decided to take some leaps of faith (metaphorically and literally).
The first thing confidence got me was a lead in the school musical. At callbacks, I held nothing back. I shrieked and stomped my way into the role of Amber. Sometimes, you just have to let lose and go for it.
I rode a roller coaster for the first time, jumped of a bridge, and finally pierced my cartilage.
Unfortunately, brave spontaneity is a double edged sword. While I look back on some moments as my best, I’ve certainly lived some of my worst. Lesson learned: don’t make out with your ex, especially at a dance. Some creepy freshman will take a picture, and it will end up on Facebook (thankfully it was removed after only 1 day). Sometimes thinking “fuck it, I can deal with the aftereffects later” is a bigger compromise than you think.
So, was it worth it? Do the successes outweigh the mistakes? For now, I’m going to say yes. What are dumb decisions if we don’t learn from them anyway? I’d encourage everyone to do a few stupid things, because sometimes they’ll create your best memories…or at least make for a good story.
August 27, 2012 § Leave a comment
I’d like to start off by saying I got the idea for this post from http://ardentandawkwardinaustin.com/, check out her blog, it rocks!
Anyway, when I read her post it got me thinking: what are the things that I should like, but don’t?
This one shouldn’t be a big deal, but for some reason it surprises everyone. I like chocolate, but I have never been able to take the taste (or smell) or M&Ms. I can’t describe how, but something tastes different about the little colorful candies.
2. Reading novels
This is one of my least favorite qualities about myself. I have tried time and time again to be a reader, and I fail with every attempt. I like reading the news, and I love reading blog posts, but I don’t get the same enjoyment out of novels that other people seem to. Maybe it’s the fact that I don’t have time with my busy school schedule, but I feel like if I really enjoyed reading I’d make the time.
3. Wearing shoes
This one is pretty strange. Long story short: Last summer I was in a musical where I played a slave, and never wore shoes. I realized show much more comfortable I was without them on (especially singing and dancing). As someone who isn’t the most coordinated, it helps me feel more connected with the ground. Plus, the stress of finding matching shoes for a great outfit is just annoying.
4. Straight up coffee
As someone who in constantly on the go and who in avidly involved in the performing arts (school from 7 am – 9 pm? no problem!) I feel like I should be addicted to coffee by now. I say “straight up” coffee because I enjoy lattes and frappichinos, but never drink coffee straight. I don’t really mind the taste, but the heaviness of it just makes me groggy.
5. Cleaning my room
I desperately wish I was someone who has to keep a tidy room to stay sane, but unfortunately I am pretty content being a slob. This is fine until a super organized friend comes over, and I’m just embarrassed. If only I was as physically organized as I am mentally
Am I completely alone, or are there other people somewhere out in the vast universe that share these dislikes? Whats something you guys dislike that you shouldn’t?
August 24, 2012 § Leave a comment
Around one year ago I decided that my nails, which I had chewed until I got braces, were to dull to see the light of day. Since then, I’ve worn nail polish every day with only a few rare exceptions.
I’d like to think of it as a form of self expression, a visual of how I’m feeling depicted on my nails. Am I feeling light? Upset? Sexy? There’s a color to tell all. Plus, some crazy designs.
August 22, 2012 § Leave a comment
I’m back in Cambridge, and couldn’t have received a warmer welcome! I guess I can finally cross “jump off a bridge” off my bucket list.
I cannot find the words to describe the free fall. It was the shortest and longest five seconds of my life, ending abruptly with the stinging sensation that traveled through my thighs and back due to my ungraceful dismount.
I should have begun by clarifying that I am not afraid of heights. I am terrified of drops however. It took me sixteen years to ride my first roller coaster because the steep drop in the beginning was enough to send me running in the opposite direction.
Here’s the trick: It’s all in the build up. The clicking of your cart as it slowly approaches the decent. Standing on the edge of the cement ledge staring in to the reflective Charles River water.
Then, the release. The whoosh as the cart reaches the tipping point. The scream that followed the out-of-the-ordinary burst of courage that sent me flying off of the Harvard foot bridge.
I don’t know if I will ever be able to summon that kind of courage again, but maybe it only takes closing your eyes and counting to three.
August 16, 2012 § 1 Comment
After going several days without wearing makeup I have concluded the following: Its incredibly addictive, dangerously so.
As a 16 year old girl, I am in an age group highly susceptible to makeup’s quick effects and strong hold. Once you start applying it, you just can’t stop.
There isn’t a set age when one is allowed to start wearing the stuff, and some women never do. However, others won’t leave the house without that extra layer plastered on to their abused faces. Some may even call it a mask.
My history with makeup begins in the fifth grade when I desperately wanted to wear lip gloss like my friends. Gap was out, and Claire’s was in. By the sixth grade, most girls carried a small tube of the shiny gloop in their backpack, constantly reapplying to keep their lips sparkling. I had countless tubes of lip gloss, as they were cheap, and constantly getting lost.
However, the real makeup started when high school did. It began with just mascara, and that’s how it stayed most of freshman year. Unfortunately, I was slapped with an onset of horrible acne, so cover up was introduced to hide its long-term effects on my face. Now there were two regulars in my morning makeup routine.
The summer before Sophomore year, I was introduced to yet another piece of makeup for my collection, liquid eyeliner. I started tenth grade with three regulars, which quickly became four when pencil eyeliner made its way in to my life, and five when I discovered the wonders of foundation. Five types of makeup to apply every morning, five aspects of my appearance that weren’t me.
Recently when discussing the addictive nature of makeup with a close friend she said she limited her makeup usage to once or twice a week. When I asked why she answered:
“I want to wear makeup to feel pretty, not feel ugly without it”
Every time I began using a new type of makeup regularly, my face seemed incomplete if I didn’t continue to wear it. I forgot about the time in my life where I only wore mascara, I figured that I just couldn’t pull off the natural look that so many girls do. I adored the confidence makeup gave me when I began school last year, but it wasn’t real confidence. It was a visage, a mask if you will. My self-security hinged on a couple of bottles and a lot of black goop.
So this year I challenge myself to wear minimal makeup three to four school days a week, and save the liquid eyeliner for days I need that extra boost. I’ll advise other girls to do the same. As cliche as it seems, don’t let something as simple as makeup rule how you feel about yourself.
August 9, 2012 § 1 Comment
So I’m sorting through all of my clothes to prepare for the upcoming school year and the first thing I think is “Why the hell do I have so many stripped shirts?”
This discovery takes me back down memory lane to freshman year, when a shirt would always catch my eye if it was stripey.
Then I come across the plaid flannels and button downs from the eighth grade, a style that I recently rekindled a love for. I sorted through the floral print dresses, the pencil skirts, the (yes) cloth and lacy ponchos. But why am I writing about this?
If you’ve checked out about ‘About’ you’ve noticed that I am an ever changing person. By taking one look at my closet you can confirm this within seconds. Although I am not someone who is going to peruse fashion, my personal style has been something of great importance since I was in first grade and my mother told me that I could dress myself.
Needless to say, I looked like a mess.
So I think to myself: Wouldn’t it be interesting to analyze my style for the past sixteen years and see what I find?
Like I said, my expression began in first grade when my mother handed me the fashion reigns. Clearly I’ve always been an expressive person, as I landed in the performing arts department, so you can image how I was as a kid. I think I made up for my painful shyness with my loud clothing. I wore the light up shoes, mismatched colors, and high pigtails every day.
Sometime during the second grade, like many others, I encountered the “Tom Boy” phase. During this time I destroyed my barbies and rejected all thinks pink my deeming it my least favorite color. I’m guessing that this was my desperate attempt to stop being viewed as a little girl, and establish myself as a “big girl” instead.
In third grade my mother chopped off all my hair so my brother and I had matching hair cuts, I still think it was one of the most traumatizing things that has happened in my life. Needless to say, it brought an end to the pigtail era.
Fast forwarding to around middle school, my fashion choices were still a little behind. Matching definitely wasn’t my fote. However, in seventh grade my fashion choices became increasingly bold. This began the era of florescent jeans and converse.
I prided myself on my bright clothing, insisting that it reflected my bright and bubbly personality, which it did. In seventh grade I had an amazing group of close friends, I was asked out for the first time, I adored my swimming teammates, and was beginning to be recognized for my voice by our amazing new music teacher. I was happier then I had ever been and let my clothes show it.
These clothes consisted of baby blue high tops, star patterned low tops, a cropped jacket, and (my personal favorite) flamboyant bright pink and aqua skinny jeans. I was thirteen years old and going on thirty. I’m pretty sure there was even a day I wore rainbow knee socks. I rejected my mother’s best wishes and purchased shirts that said “aeropostle,” and even one shirt that she deemed too low cut to wear out. I remember feeling incredibly rebellious by wearing underneath sweaters that I’d take off once I was out of the house, as if I had the breasts to fill something like that out.
In the beginning of eighth grade I told myself no bright colored pants, and returned to strictly denim jeans. As spring approached, I discovered a love of skirts that I still possess, and insisted on wearing them more often than shorts. The store “delias” made its way in to the mall, and I purchased many graphic shirts along with my other friends. This is also when plaid button downs and flannals were introduced. All of these choices were significantly lower key than the year before, and with good reason.
In addition, I underwent a life changing experience when I discovered how to do my hair. It took me until middle school to accept that my hair just wasn’t straight, and all of middle school to figure out what that meant. I tried putting it up everyday, but the frizz was unbearable. I attempted leaving it down, but it looked like a birds nest gone astray. A friend with similar hair shared with me how she did hers, and I never suffered again. My wavy/curly hair was tamed.
Now, we arrive at freshman year, this is the big one. I arrived at school after what was easily the worst summer of my life. In addition to the nerves I carried going in to high school, I harbored deeper nervousness about my parents marriage. I was no longer as bright as in middle school, but never dark enough where people noticed anything was wrong. As a freshman, the goal was to “dress to impress” so everyone seemed to give their all every day. Pencil skirts were big too, and I purchased my very first. The goal was to come off mature and grown up, as we were finally in high school. During this time I also was introduced to the push up bra, embarrassed to be an A cup. I wanted cleavage like the other girls, but it wasn’t physically possible.
I was an awkward freshman, with acne and braces, who desperately wanted a boyfriend. I had many close friends, but I wanted more. I had never been kissed or drank or smoked. This must have been why I dressed to impress so much, because I wanted to be noticed. I superficially wanted guys to like me.
I retired the push up bra in the beginning of sophomore year as it was too uncomfortable and I didn’t care anymore. The braces and acne were both gone, so I could tone down my outfits. A close friend of mine said “I only dress for me,” and I took these words to heart. I stopped trying to impress people and settled in to my personality. This was also around the time I scored a supporting lead in the musical, and my confidence sky rocketed. I was surrounded by amazing theatre people who didn’t judge me, and made many close friends without even trying. I wore whatever I wanted, which consisted of many floral patterns and brown shoes.
I can’t really define my current style. It involves bandannas and large earrings though, and lighter colors. I’m still evolving, and I’ll let myself without worrying about how others see my style. I think that thinking like a 7th grader may actually do me some good here.