It really is true that the college you go to is what you make of it. I love Wellesley especially for the professors and research omg they support me so much and are so much smarter than me but believe that every student has the capability. I can talk to some of these people for over an hour.
i write a lot. i have this little notebook that i carry with me everywhere.
porque este mundo es increíble.
i love tumblrs. because people these days are so quick to judge and if you happen upon this site, you get a whole different perspective of someone you thought you knew.
because sometimes we don't speak aloud all we want to say. and written words preserve the moment's intensity.
when i write, i think i look for/ hope someone will disagree with me. because they care enough to engage and sometimes i don't want to believe what i have come to conclude.
i'm self absorbed, passionate, vocal though sometimes internally, stubborn, will argue with you if you don't agree with what i think, interested in multiculturalism race relations psychology cross cultural, still figuring it out
it makes me really sad, to the point of eyes watering/ occasional tearing, when i read about and think about the injustices, not even in the world, but in the children of color in America today. sometimes when I talk in class and share my thoughts about a certain reading, it really gets to me.
i’m writing my education paper about a community organization working with schools to reduce violence, academic gaps, and generally improve the lives of these kids and I came across an interview with someone working at EBAYC in Oakland (California is an awesome place of activism btw): http://news.razoo.com/2013/09/ebayc-building-a-compassionate-multicultural-society-in-oakland/
and her description of the kids’ wishlists- man, that did it.
At random times these flashes of images and memories appear in my mind. I remember waking up at 5am to drive to Puyo, I remember playing basketball in the crisp air and surprising the guys that a girl could shoot, I remember climbing on our elbows on the bare ground to get to the opening that led to the waterfall, I remember walking through the dirt paths that led to Hola Vida, playing tiburón en la piscina after spending all day at the beach, banana boating for $2 and watching emily fly in the air and laughing afterwards about how emilio swallowed more water by screaming about how scared he was. I remember the smell of newly cemeted tile in La Bib and the occasional smell of feet, speaking simple spanish so well that the little kids thought I was fluent, bending down and listening to their complaint/ comment and not understanding any of it. I remember riding Mago up the mountains and turning around to see the village beneath us, climbing down the hill with one dog leading and the shy one following behind. It’s amazing how my mind stories these memories and how I can recall them so vividly with the feeling of fresh air and pleasant surprise lingering, rising to my cheeks. I remember these feeling moments after coming home from taiwan. I’m afraid they’ll fade with time.
I miss ecuador and new york
I’m unthinkingly calling boston home and idk how I feel about this
I’m so thankful for my professors. 2 of them came to my tanner and 2 came to my talk today.. and they’re all diff professors omg
They’re so amazing
These are the things I ♥ about this place.
it seems to be a new thing to be rosie the riveter for halloween