good talks @ the deece thx to vc’s insta
i rolled my eyes and audibly groaned in frustration, resisting the urge to smash my phone screen against the edge of my dresser. instead, i threw myself down on my mattress so hard that my body bounced a couple of times before settling in. okay, hannah. collect yourself. no need to be overdramatic.
a dull ache began to throb somewhere in the back of my head. rubbing my temples, i reconsidered the messages popping up in my inbox. there was no way this could possibly be considered appropriate, right? i thought. to make sure i wasn’t missing anything, i clicked through to the conversation at hand and scrolled up to reread everything.
Continue reading “becoming aware of conversational narcissism”
the best pic i’ve ever gotten by sunset lake—alone, of course
there’s something about the energy of dorms which draws me.
college dorms are my shit. i’ve known this since attending summer camp at franklin & marshall, which was the first time that i experienced dorm life. i love the way that teenagers never stop moving—there’s always someone doing homework, going to the dining hall, headed into town to buy toiletries. voices pour out of every room, music blasts from behind shower doors. dorms are overspilling with movement, color, vibrancy. every building is a collection of ever-changing lives, all occurring at the same time. existing among them is bizarre and fantastic.
Continue reading “finding space to be alone at college”
radhika and myself circa november 2015
the common app’s personal essay isn’t like any other essay i’ve ever written. it’s not often that you’re asked to summarize your entire being in a piece of writing, but that’s what the collegeboard wants you to do. that’s a pretty daunting task, and it’s completely understandable if you’re not sure how to go about it—this essay differs significantly from the kind you’re usually asked to write, the old intro/body/conclusion type of thing. Continue reading “a guide to the common app essay”
the prince and his rose, of course
i had a hard time deciding whether to write this post.
it wasn’t that i didn’t want to thank you—i did, very much. it was just that putting out a thank you felt arrogant, like i was a hotshot celebrity with a fanbase instead of some kid with an internet connection. i thought for a while about whether it was okay to be doing this, and i came to the conclusion that it’s always a good move to thank people, especially when your reasons are as real as mine. Continue reading “you, me, and some brain vomit: thank you for everything”
you’re treating me like some kind of romantic object. i mean, you’re being a straight white guy.
poker night (from a streetcar named desire) by thomas hart benton (1948)
i reacted to the message the same way i would have if a brick wall had sprouted up in front of me: by skidding to a full stop. this was a bad move, because i was standing in front of the exit to my high school, and the last class period had ended minutes before. the girl behind me promptly barreled into my back in her eagerness to get out of the building. she glared at me and made her way through the door without a word.
as i wandered down the pathway which parallels the front of my school, there was nothing more i could do but message back, you’re right. i’m sorry. i’ll try to be better. Continue reading “hannah, you’re being a straight white guy: how men and straight people play into romantic relationships between women”
we all know halmonie got me through school
i often say that i hate manhasset high.
it comes with a grin because i’m trying to be a bit wry. if you pay close attention, there’s a sparkle in my eye which will indicate to my listener that i don’t actually hate my high school. sure, i have problems with its students’ elitism and the ridiculous amount of academic pressure which is dropped on everyone’s shoulders. i also wouldn’t complain if we had toilet paper in more stalls during eighth period or if we bought working pencil sharpeners instead of renovating our tennis courts. and let’s be honest, if the administration would chill out enough to let seniors actually enjoy their lives after ap testing is over, we’d all be a little happier and no worse off. Continue reading “excellence through effort (or whatever): favorite moments at mhs”
from kurt vonnegut’s slaughterhouse-five (1969)
“you got a journal going there?” my econ teacher said, chucking me gently on the shoulder as he walked by. “good for you.”
i smiled at him as he sat down opposite me. i wanted to tell him that it was actually a writer’s notebook, but i had to hold my vow for the day of silence, so i just blinked as pleasantly as possible in his direction.
a few minutes passed as we both became engrossed in our work. i set my head down on my arm, my nose only a few inches from the marks of my pen. there’s a certain groove i like to hit when i write—a feeling of mental catharsis i always crave, i’d say—and i was almost there. my teacher looked over and remarked, “you must have some pretty interesting stuff in there, kid.” Continue reading “that feeling of catharsis: some thoughts on writing, language, and power”
le christ jaune (the yellow christ) by paul gauguin (1889)
(i had this song on repeat while i was writing this post.
it should also be noted that i use the terms “belief system” and “religion” interchangeably within this post, but i do understand the difference between the two, and how the former is not necessarily the latter. i just chose to group them together for clarity and the reader’s sake, without going into semantics. smiley face.)
i wasn’t raised in a particularly religious family, and as a result, i am not a particularly religious person. i was baptized, but my family isn’t a churchgoing one, and my parents and i didn’t have too many discussions about god as i grew up. my mom pretty much told me that i was allowed to choose what i believed in, and that was that.
Continue reading “do i get the gold chariot? do i float through the ceiling?”
masks by emil nolde (1911)
i hate being angry. or, i guess i hate being personally angry.
i like my anger to stay political. it feels valid that way, sitting comfortably within the confines of righteous historical context. i feel like being politically angry = fighting injustice and doing good on behalf of other people. the reasons for this type of anger are rooted in the outside world—they are tangible, seeable, readable. you can look them in the face if you so dare. Continue reading “sound and fury, signifying nothing”
“are we growing up or just going down? / it’s just a matter of time until we’re all found out / take our tears and put ’em on ice / cuz i swear i’d burn this city down to show you the light” —sophomore slump or comeback of the year // fall out boy
hi, i’m hannah.
Continue reading “breaking it in”