The Universe

During finals, my beautiful friend Jen and I stayed up until six in the morning writing papers. As we walked back to our dorm, we noticed how silent and peaceful the world was. Everything was dark and calm.

Simply still.

It was beautiful. Jen pointed out a major difference between night and day. During the day, even on a clear day, all you'll see upon looking up is earth's atmosphere. Despite its obvious beauty, that is all it is...an atmosphere: "an envelope" (Dictionary definition).

When the sun goes down, things change. Assuming the sky is clear, you are looking into the entire universe, not just our little pocket, our envelope of a world. There is so much more to experience, yet we choose to sleep during the most peaceful and beautiful hours.

I considered this idea for sometime the other night and I realized that it is a powerful metaphor.

Things are really quite safe during the day. We are inside of our busy little (and it truly is little) atmosphere, dealing with life and all of the "problems" that go along with it. Busy, busy, busy. The day is not still. I think that one of the most incredible moments of any given day is just before a tornado touches down (or threatens to do so)...absolutely everything is silent and still. It is the stillness that scares us. The same thing applies to the night.

But why?

We are afraid. Terrified, in fact. I can't blame or judge because I fall into the crowd on this one a lot of times. We are so scared of the things that scare us that we avoid them instead of facing them. Does the night not represent this?

I don't really have an answer or idea that has developed any further, but I thought it was interesting to consider.

People

Well, it's been awhile since I've posted. (You can thank finals for that.) I have been thinking about this blog though, and I have a few random thoughts to express.

-Why is "education" so important? Shouldn't we be more interested in expanding our minds and our lives emotionally and spiritually?
-Caffein is just as much a drug as anything else. Stop consuming it.
-Technology is WAY overrated.
-People should worry a lot less.
-Procrastination is bad. Real bad.
-Snow is pretty, but cold, cold, cold.
-When people are being really rude to you, it's usually because they are lacking in self-confidence. You've probably heard that for years, but it's the truth.
-I don't care what anyone says, I like Taylor Swift. I think that she is incredibly talented. Not to mention the fact that she is totally down-to-earth and grateful for what she has.
-Prayers work. No matter what your religion.
-Also, Buddha is really, really cool.

The last thing I have to say is that I think people should stop making gigantic assumptions about other people when they barely know them. It doesn't benefit anyone to do things like that.

If I don't post before, have a great holiday!

Tattoos and Hearts

I just got my second tattoo last night (I love it) and it made me think about wounds of various kinds. The idea that keeps coming to my mind is that not all wounds are bad.

An obvious example of this is a tattoo. It is pretty painful when it happens, it is inflicted by someone else because of your desire, and it injects you with a permanent scar that usually makes you bleed. Sound similar to anything else? A relationship, perhaps?

What's cool about both kinds of wounds is that despite all of the pain and scarring, they always turns into something beautiful.

I feel like this is a lesson that we all need to learn and apply to every aspect of our lives. I know it's one that I have been learning for my entire life, but it makes a lot more sense to me now.

(It says "om mani padme hum" - look it up - on the top

and "live so that you may live" on the bottom

with a design of four numbers in the middle

that my wonderful mother put together)

Orange Cotton

This is a poem that my classmate Kym Littlefield wrote for our black studies class. It is wonderfully written, but I wish I had a recording of him reading it because his presentation is incredible!

"Orange Cotton, Orange Cotton – picked out but never forgotten.

Produced by the slaves, Orange Cotton grew up tough. Orange Cotton, indirectly, is the topic we discuss.

There is no beaten path – we aren’t supposed to be doctors and lawyers. We are rappers and ballers. We don’t invest in the country’s welfare, the country invests welfare in us. We laugh loudly, wear flashy clothes, and start bad trends. We are the darkness of our country and our blackness can offer no light to anything worth while. But carry it well, because I can think of nothing heavier than this stigma. I can think of no bulk or boulder greater than that which lies on our back. And those stigmas that lie on are back are lies indeed.

With this great consummation that tortures our back and the fight we endure – we fight the same battles as those in mythology. Atlas would be proud – he’d call us his prodigy. We push this boulder uphill – Sisyphus seeks our methodology.

Specifically, it is no one’s fault – I think we were biologically predisposed. When we seek similarities, all the differences get exposed. For our own survival, we yearn – to cling for labels. Even when they prevent us from that which we are able.

It is the great flaw of man when our instincts make us vulnerable to extinction. And the way we seek distinction begins to blur our thinking and even distorts our depiction, subjectivity rendering our written history fiction. This is the story of the history of our past. Misprinted as fiction but we can illuminate it at last.

I have proof to counterprove. Many arguments from which to choose, but from my experience, the black truth has been abused. I wish you could feel what I feel when I imagine Orange Cotton. And the bitterness I taste because that awful fruit is rotten.

Our identities, black, white, asian, and other – no matter how subtle – aren’t small enough to fit in a SAT bubble.

It took less than a year at a private school to teach me that I was black, being black in public school couldn’t teach me all dat. Living in the hood, I was just a face in the crowd – one year later it was easy to point me out. And so the same truth exists, change and reality never kiss, but today I woke up different – I woke up with something missing. I had Orange Cotton on my mind, I pictured her growing up in the field. An undeveloped asset - far more than the crops she yields.

I have a white family, I’ve gone to white schools for thirteen years, I’ve lived in a white neighborhood for 5, but I know I have an accurate definition of what it means to be black.

It doesn’t mean I’m guilty, it doesn’t mean I’m the victim either. It doesn’t mean we’re all southern Baptists, although I’m a believer. It doesn’t mean I like watermelon, even though it’s my favorite fruit. It doesn’t mean I start fads, like when shoes were see-through. It doesn’t mean I’m “hood”, it doesn’t mean I like rap. Causality and correlation – none of that means being black. It means I am the ancestor of the American oppressed, and I choose to identify with them – may they peacefully rest.

Identity is self-prescribed and self diagnosed – you can seek your identity dose by dose.

Unspeakable things unspoken to be black in America means your dreams get broken. I remember the first time life taught me evil – when my white friend first taught me – I couldn’t be equal. I never wanted to stand out again, you made me dream of being average. No kid should dream this small. I don’t want my dreams – so you can have it.

You defined me, and I can’t let those labels limit me, so I tried to trace roots to bring strength back within me. Orange Cotton – no, that’s not the name of a crop, that’s the name of my humble hero – not to name drop. Slavery is so recent it’s only been six generations. If seven’s the number of completion – maybe our kids unite the nations.

But we, too, weigh on ourselves. Society’s gravity does apply pressure to us, but we give the pressure a mass to apply it to. When these stigmas disappear, we won’t have to go out of our way to avoid them.

I have told you all of what I know about Orange Cotton, but you don’t know the horrors I’ve imagined. The slave is whipped in the fields as she works tirelessly. The terms benefits or 9 to 5 apply not where hatred grows by the acre. Remorse isn’t a factor between slave and master. The horrors she saw and the darkness she lived in, gave me an idea of identity. My grandpa once told me, his grandmother was a slave – her name was Orange Cotton, and on my heart her name is engraved."

Thanksgiving

First off, I'd like to say that I think that Thanksgiving is a silly holiday, but that being grateful for what you have in life is a wonderful thing to celebrate.

In honor of Thanksgiving, I have decided to start a notebook in which I will make a daily entry of all the things I am thankful for each day. To start it off, here is a list of ten things that I am incredibly thankful for:

1. My family. Despite the craziness of it all, I have the greatest family in the world, and I mean that with the utmost sincerity.
2. My friends, especially my close friends. I definitely surround myself with some wonderful people, and I really don't know what I'd do without you.
3. The amazing opportunities I have throughout life.
4. The jobs that I have. Although stressful, they are what keep my bills paid for, and what more could I want?
5. My car. This seems silly and materialistic, but I love my Bella baby (nickname...and no, I did not name her after the Twilight character), and I am so thankful that I am able to own her.
6. My cats. I love them. End of story.
7. My camera. I have no idea how I would express my passion for photography and creative imagery without that beautiful piece of plastic.
8. Music. I am listening to "That Could Happen to Us" from the Kissing Jessica Stein album (check it out), and it expresses exactly what I am feeling and it is amazing!
9. Ballet. What a beautiful art form, yeah? Thank God I am able to dance!
10. Finally, the cliche "The air I breathe." I don't think this one needs explanation, but if we all remember the seemingly unimportant things such as oxygen, won't we all be just a little more appreciative of what we have and grateful for life?

Happy Thanksgiving.

Commandments of 104

Commandments of 104

I. Thou shalt frequently be in for the kill

II. Thou shalt consume citrus tinged popped kernels with additional flavor of the sea

III. Thou shalt slumber in the presence of fierce creatures

IV. Thou shalt devour knowledge of potential soul mates

V. Thou shalt frolic

VI. Thou shalt wage imaginary cardboard warfare against compatriots

VII. Thou shalt embellish thy chamber with festive bobbles

VIII. Thou shalt fashion a colorful identity for the threshold

IX. Thou shalt feast upon fruit filled pastries on the ground

X. Thou shalt be assured in thy command of time as a human fabrication

Arbitrary Thoughts

Saggin = Niggas (As in sagging your pants = niggers).

I have been procrastinating my homework for about

three hours.

People are crazy jealous.

Explosions in the Sky is

the. coolest. band. ever.

I really like photography.

And ballet.

What cool art forms.

Oh, and arctic foxes are my favorite animals ever.

(Photographs copyright of Zara H.)

Soul Mates

My best friend Rachel and I were talking about the idea of soul mates today and she sent me this quote by Elizabeth Gilbert:

"A soul mate's purpose is to shake you

up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show

you your obstacles and addictions,

break your heart open so new light can

get in, make you so

desperate and out of control

that you have to transform your life."

I feel as though this goes against the common current of beliefs in regard to "soul mates." Most people seem to use the phrase as a synonym to "the one," which I think are entirely different things. I most definitely agree with Gilbert's quote. There is one person in my life that I consider one of the most important of my soul mates, and the situation between us ripped me apart completely, and then I had to build myself back up from scratch (just like Gilbert says). Despite the incredible amount of pain that the relationship (and end of) caused me, it was most certainly one of the best things that has ever happened to me.

Oh yeah, I also believe that we have more than one soul mate. Way more than one. I could name three of mine with immense confidence.

I made myself who I am today with the unintentional help of one of my soul mates.

Pretentiousness

Yes...I am still awake.

The incredible pretentiousness of my ridiculously expensive school is obnoxious. Not transferring credits from a smaller school simply because it is a community college and not a liberal arts college is absurd, especially when they are general education classes like math or basic composition courses.

There is a lot of construction happening on campus currently (why they waited until the school year began to start the project, I do not know) and I heard that if the construction workers speak to any of the students, they will get fired immediately. I have not looked for a reliable source to provide this information, but I cannot even comprehend the immense automatic class separation that my school has created. Are the students really that much better than the construction workers? Let me answer that for you:

NO.

In fact, many of the students are just as stuck up and pretentious as the school itself.

Why, you might wonder, am I here if I have such a negative view of the school. It is simple: education. I am receiving an incredible education here, and the learning style is fits like a puzzle piece into my life, which is hard to find. The professors are wonderful, the classes are small, and a select few of the students are amazing. If I were here for the people or for the degree alone, I never would have even applied.

I just wish people would stop placing themselves above everyone else when, in reality, none of us are any different from the people who surround us.

Missing People/Time as a Construct

Okay, so I intended to go to sleep a while ago, yet here I am.

I can't get someone off my mind, and I have been wondering why. I am not talking about the traits of this particular person with whom my thoughts are absorbed, but the biological reasons why I continue to think about him. Are there biological reasons? And if there are, why do we focus on one person in particular?

I feel like these are probably questions that seem really simple, but if you take time to consider what I am asking, you may see it a little differently.

I understand that there is "chemistry" between people, so is the memory of that chemistry what keeps us thinking about that person? If so, why is he always on my mind? (Like a headache, as I recently analogized.) Is that chemistry still going off in my head?

That thought brings me to the idea that time is a construct. This is not an easy concept to explain, but what it boils down to is this: Time is fictional. It is something that we, as humans, have created so that our minds can physically process everything that is happening to and around us. In this theory, since there is no time, everything is happening all at once.

Now, if this were true, all of my questions previously posed are invalid for the reason that he is always on my mind is that he never leaves my mind because time does not exist.

Woah.

My questions are obliterated into the past...except they aren't, because the past does not exist since everything is happening at the same time(!).

Is this the answer to all of life's questions? Probably.

Enjoy pondering.

Wealth, what a joke

The ideology of wealth is so incredibly misconstrued. When I looked up the word "wealth" in the dictionary and the thesaurus (something I tend to do quite often), I noticed that another word appeared quite frequently: prosperity. Do material wealth and prosperity really go hand-in-hand?

I feel like society teaches us to desire the following life path: grow up fast, get good grades, go to college, get a "good" job, make a lot of money, have a family, wish you were young again (ironic due to the first step on this path), continue working your ass off at a mildly enjoyable job (but, hey! the money!), raise your kids to follow the same path, and then retire to a life of "prosperity." What is that centered around? Money, money, money.

Who cares about money?

What has it ever done for you?

It certainly hasn't helped me. I mean, I'm the one who needs blankets.

Speaking of Katie's mom, she recently sent me a yam. Apparently she felt bad sending Katie and Karen a large dish of non-vegan food, so she found a yam in her refrigerator and felt the need to send it to me. What a sweet woman. (No sarcasm intended.)

That's all I really have to say. I only hope that you consider the meaning of the word "prosperity" and determine for yourself what exactly that entails.

Oh, and on a personal note, you aren't "poor" if you don't have to choose between paying the electric bill and feeding your children. Grow up and be grateful for the many blessings life has to offer you...that's what I am trying to do and it's surprisingly helpful!

I feel like it's important to suggest other blogs to follow, so check this one out. It is pretty depressing, but the photography and poetry is quite lovely. http://www.iwrotethisforyou.me/

Death by Chainsaw

I am feeling colorful today.

My dear friend Olivia wrote a blog about zombies and how we need to prepare ourselves for their attack, and she cleverly created a list of important things to know for those of us who have had no prior training or education on the zombie apocalypse. Unfortunately for me, Olivia thinks that I will get infected and try to eat her, so she explained how she would kill me.

This is where it gets cool.

She says that she would decapitate me with a chainsaw! How AWESOME is that? Obviously the actual death part would suck, but consider the obituary...

Zara lived a short but fulfilling life. She worked

hard, went to school, and had a great circle of

friends. She enjoyed writing, dancing, and photography.

Zara was in a tragic newly discovered zombie state;

therefore, she was decapitated by her best friend with

a brand new STIHL chainsaw in her tiny dorm room as

she lunged for her first (and final) taste of human flesh

with an intense in-for-the-kill kind of inclination.

She is survived by her mother, father, eight siblings,

extended family, close circle of friends, extended

circle of friends, her two dead cats, her one-billion

living cats, her "children," her computer, Jackson,

her printer, Alexander, her iPod, Rodger,

and her car, Bella.

Have you ever heard of a death being cooler than that? I haven't.

For all this and more, I thank you, Olivia.

How?!

Ok, so I am eating lime and salt popcorn (thank you, Orville Redenbachers)...don't you ever wonder how on earth people thought of these things? Who thought to shove popcorn kernels and oil and lime juice and salt into a tiny paper bag lined with what, wax and chemicals? and suck the air out, then stick it in a microwave (yet another insane invention), and then wait for the kernels to pop, AND THEN..............eat it?!

How do people come up with these things? Or things like bread...how was that invented?? Who thought to take ground up wheat, yeast (whatever that really is), salt (how did we decide to start eating that? And how come we didn't confuse it for sand? Is that even a possibility? I don't know.), water, and whatever else goes into bread...mix it together...heat it up, let it rise, watch it cool, and then eat it. WHAT?!

Don't even get me started on some of the super crazy things like cell phones or the internet.

I will probably never really understand. I suppose that's okay.

P.S. I am obsessed with the song In for the Kill, Let's Get Ravey Remix, by La Roux. It's really good when you listen to it loudly in your car with your eyes closed...try it.

P.P.S. check out my friend's blog: www.olivia-goingcommando.blogspot.com. It's hilarious and I promise you'll like it!

Quick Thought About Thoughts

So I am reading Manfred by Lord Byron for my 18th/19th Century British Literature course. It is a beautiful poem written eloquently in stage format and I enjoy reading it (really, I do), but I read an entire page and I honestly have no idea what it said due to other things taking priority in my mind. I was too tired to read over it again, so I just continued even after this important realization. Then something caught my attention:

"But I have found our thoughts take wildest flight

Even at the moment when they should array

Themselves in pensive order." (Act 3, lines 43-46)

Coincidence? I will leave that up to you to decide for yourself, but I'd certainly say not.

The Century Project

For three days, an exhibit by Frank Cordelle titled "The Century Project" has been at my school. I didn't know anything about it when I went in except that there were nude photographs. In the simplest description, Frank has taken a photograph of a female from birth (literally..the first photograph is of a baby crowning) to age 100 (he's only missing a few years here and there). To be honest, I felt pretty uncomfortable at the beginning of the exhibit because the pictures were of girls...young girls. As the photographs matured to teenage girls, I began to see the beauty in his project. These are young women who are not afraid to be exactly who they are - or they are afraid, which makes it even more honorable that they are willing to participate. Many of the teenagers had or were still experiencing eating disorders or the repercussions of sexual abuse.

As the age of the subject increased, so did the intensity of the stories. These beautiful, amazingly strong women have been brutally beaten, abused, and exploited, yet they are taking a stand. They are making a statement. They are being themselves...they are exposing themselves entirely. What could possibly be more honorable than such an act?

One important idea that I took from this incredible experience was that of my own body. In recent years, I have done a lot of work mentally and emotionally to come to a place of comfort with my body, and I feel like I have made monumental progress, but I have a bit further to go.

Each woman who participated in Frank's project is making a statement to society about a couple of different things. The first is that there is a huge difference between nudity and sexuality. There is nothing wrong with either one, and both have their time and place, but nudity should not be categorized so wrongly with sexuality because, though sexuality often correlates strongly with nudity, they do not always go hand-in-hand. The second statement, probably the more important of the two, is that beauty is not necessarily what media, culture, and society say it is. Beauty is who you are. Nothing more, nothing less. Despite their so called "flaws," these women put themselves out to the world, and their beauty, inside and out, calls to me clear as day. I hope that others react to this incredible project similarly to the way in which I have.

Another moment within this experience that reigns of high importance is the moment in which I met Frank. He travels with his exhibit and thankfully was around when I walked through. He was speaking with some other students when I finished looking at his photos, so I patiently listened to him answer their questions. Once they left, he turned and smiled at me. I immediately asked him if I could hug him, and his response was an immensely vigorous, "Hell yes!" He quickly embraced me in one of the most sincere hugs I have ever encountered. He held on to me for what would normally be an awkward amount of time, but it felt so right. We connected. I thanked him and said that what he is doing is beautiful. He thanked me, and wished me a good weekend. I then picked up my coat and backpack and walked out with a brand new sense of myself.

I spent an hour and a half in the exhibit, reading the stories and admiring the artistry of the photos. Several made me cry, a few made me laugh (especially when I got to the older women who were completely open and free about life), but each one inspired me to an incomprehensible level. As ridiculous as it may sound to someone who has not seen this wonderful collection, it changed me. It pushed me further along my path toward total comfort and enlightenment in regard to my own beautiful body. This experience has impacted my life in a way that I know I will never forget.

Thank you, Frank.

http://www.thecenturyproject.com/

College: More Than Education

This week has been so incredibly profound. My mom always told me that college is important because of the experience, but I never really knew what that meant (and who would have guessed that mother really does know best?). I simply assumed that she meant the party scene and/or the friendships and relationships that develop from being in school, but I now realize that she meant something entirely different. I have questioned more about myself, my life, our society, and our country than I ever have in the past, and those were always things I thought about, which means that I am contemplating these ideas constantly.

Just in this week so far (fyi: it's only Wednesday...), I have found what may be the meaning of life (thanks to the collaboration of thoughts with my roommates); I have realized that we are all enslaved by our society and economical system, no matter what we do, and I want out; I have placed myself into a new light thanks to the opinions of others (in a good way, don't worry); and I have reaffirmed many of my religious and spiritual beliefs.

Because of all of these things, I realize now that college is not about your education, your knowledge, your friends, your cheap beer intake, and especially not about the job or degree you receive upon graduation. Rather, it is about discovering more about yourself than you could have possibly imagined. What more could you ask for?

It is an unfortunate realization when you discover that finding yourself in the deepest of ways is the purpose of a four year period of your life, yet you are unable to focus on it. Shouldn't we have the time to meditate, either in thought or in practice, about ourselves and our lives and our ultimate purpose?

I suppose the challenge is balancing all of that with societal expectations and finding a place in the world where you are mentally sound and secure, yet economically safe as well.

P.S. With this new perspective on college, do grades really matter?

Introduction/Refrigerator List

Once upon a midnight autumn, my roommates and I were discussing my situation and they suggested that I start a blog about the happenings of my life. First, I will tell you a bit about my recent past.

I am a transfer student at a private college (coming from a community college in a redneck town. Culture shock, anyone?) in a small town in Ohio, but I am not the typical student on this campus. I work three jobs while attending school full time, and I am snugly living in a double room with two of my friends, Katie and Karen (no need to ask how that works...Karen has a mattress under Katie's bed and we share every other piece of furniture. They are really nice).

As a prologue, I will tell you a story that Katie told me after she returned home for our fall break. Her mom asked about Karen and me and she told her the story of how we all ended up living in this room (it's a long, confusing story that I will save for a post when I have run out of cool things to say). As they were talking, her mom pointed to a blanket in their sun room and asked if Katie wanted it. Katie replied, "No thanks, we already have plenty of blankets in our room." As their conversation deepened, Katie told her mom about my family. She explained that my mom is a single mom who recently adopted four kids and doesn't have a lot of luck with her financial situation. With empathy pouring out in her voice, Katie's mom said, "You take that blanket...you take that blanket and you give it to Zara." Hence, the title of my blog.

For the topic of my first post, I will now provide you with a list of the weird things that I, as a poor vegan-college-student, currently have in my refrigerator:

• An empty Brita water filter
• A half cut onion
• Lemon juice
• All natural maple syrup
• Soymilk
• (Non-vegan) Apple pie...half frozen
• A single piece of cheeseless pizza
• A container of (gross, melted, separated, re-hardened, disgusting) soy butter

I will leave you with the list of random refrigerator contents, as well as a quote from the great Lord Byron, whom I am currently studying.

"Thou hast no power upon me, that I feel;

Thou never shalt possess me, that I know."

(Manfred, Act 3, lines 125-6)