I visited my high school on Friday — a trip that’s always followed by a frantic search for old photos, essays, projects, and whatever else I can find as I subject my friends to cheesy anecdotes and a list of complaints about changes I do not approve of (a maroon carpet, really?). What I found last night were these photograms, made during my senior year with whatever jewelry I was wearing that day in the fall of 2007 and the help of a pen flashlight from my Harriet the Spy phase. If you’re wondering why I was still carrying around my spy gear at age 17, take this as a hint that you should never have private conversations within earshot of me…

So, in the midst of a rant about the class registration process, I mentioned to my former photo teacher that I’m taking Digital Storytelling next semester, a class he was already familiar with, as the new film course at Prep is apparently an offshoot of some of the Literature & Technology courses at the Writers House. They created this course with the help of the former chair of our English department at Rutgers, whose daughter I had just met, randomly, in the art studio… and I’m now absolutely certain of my theory that when you graduate from Rutgers Prep, the “six degrees of separation” phenomenon is cut to just half that. I’m hoping that next time I visit, I can meet a student who is somehow related to Mariah Carey. In the meantime, I’ll begin composing my list of reasons why I’d make a better spouse than Nick Cannon.

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Here is my proud bed-racing team from the Charity Bed Race event that Demarest Hall participated in tonight. On the bed, from left to right, we have RJ, Dan, and Andrew (whose breasts looked fabulous — even better than they did during our drag show last year, when he wore the pink bra I lent to him from the picture on the right). Finally, squatting down, we have Catherine, who led our team to victory in the first round.

As outreach coordinator in our dorm (sorry, “residence hall” — apparently “dorm” sounds like a prison), I signed us up for this event and pitched the idea of a drag theme for our dorm. It was a subtler version of my original suggestion, “Free our Bathrooms,” which was a response to the housing administration “taking away” our gender neutral bathrooms this year, despite the fact that gender-free bathrooms have been a part of our dorm’s culture for years (largely because of the queer presence here, but also for the convenience of all residents, as we pride ourselves on having a very active and tight-knit community, and regulating which bathrooms students can use in a place they consider to be their home is absurd). However, a charity event didn’t seem like the appropriate venue for such antagonism, so we ditched the toilet seat and went with a giant purple penis modeled after the now infamous Power Penis Vibe. I’ll save the story behind that one for another time.

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This photo was taken at Passion Puddle, located on the border of the Cook and Douglass campuses at Rutgers (you can’t see the lake itself too well in this photo, but I only had a few minutes before the bus left, and at the time I was busy taking some freshmen on “vacation” — an activity that involves a Saturday afternoon bus ride to Sears, where we enjoy napping on real beds for a few hours). According to legend, when a male from Cook College and a female from Douglass College hold hands and walk around the water three times, they will soon become engaged. This myth seems to have been slightly modified since the merging of all undergraduate liberal arts colleges at Rutgers and changed simply to a male and a female — though I don’t think we’ve progressed to the point of incorporating same-sex hand-holding into the passing of the legend. I’m not sure I mind being left out, of course, because Passion Puddle is primarily known for another myth involving the very unromantic excavation of a body from the bottom of the lake, which leads me, in a very morbid transition, to Virginia Woolf…

This past week I finished reading Mrs. Dalloway for the second time in one of my courses, and during a class discussion, the subject of food was brought up in relation to the way Virginia Woolf’s anorexia seems to affect the meaning attached food in her writing. The passage we spoke about involved Miss Kilman eating a pink cake — Woolf’s description of this act is unmistakably resentful, with Miss Kilman’s eating directly paired with her own feelings of worthlessness and the narrator’s repulsive depiction of her. The image of food itself, though, is somewhat glorified — there’s a subtle sense of indulgence in the very hateful way she writes about food, with great care taken to describe in detail the way Miss Kilman speaks while handling her food, and finally swallows the last bit of her eclair, and then wipes the chocolate from her fingers, and then finishes with a cup of tea. A friend once jokingly suggested that the reason anorexic women so often work around food or otherwise aspire to go onto culinary school is because “it’s like porn for them” — and I think that’s the kind of withheld desire evident in Woolf’s writing… that there is something almost pornographic about the experience of watching someone eating while personally abstaining from food. When a person spends so much time thinking about and obsessing over food, I think that obsession can manifest itself in all sorts of ways, whether it be through one’s profession, writing, or artwork… I’m thinking Fiona Apple’s The First Taste provides an interesting musical comparison to Woolf (or perhaps Paper Bag, with its more blatant references to hunger and loneliness).

What I also wonder about, though, is the presence of Elizabeth in the pink cake scene, and how her relationship with her mother, Clarissa, might complicate Woolf’s ideas about food. It seems to lend to to the idea that eating disorders often develop out of an inadequate relationship with a woman’s mother, which would certainly make sense in Woolf’s case, given her mother’s death at such an early age. Either way I think that understanding Woolf’s relationship to food adds another dimension to the novel I hadn’t picked up on before now…

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To understand my love for animals, you’d probably have to understand what my house looks like. By no means am I exaggerating when I say the vacuum is considered our house pet, which means animals are strictly forbidden. As a child I launched a number of unsuccessful campaigns for a house cat, dog, hamster, frog, and eventually a fish — but even that suggestion was shot down. I once managed to bring a plant home, but that only lasted an hour or so before my mom removed it from my room and exiled it to the kitchen counter, where she could be sure if its whereabouts. Why, who knows what kinds of messes that plant would have caused? If you think I’m exaggerating, just talk to anyone who has actually been inside of my house. It’s rare that one makes it through the door without already breaking a rule — there’s a very strict shoe removal policy that involves careful placement of the feet so as not to track dirt into the house. However, bare feet are also strictly forbidden. Socks are a must, as foot sweat poses a great threat to both tiled and hardwood floors. And heaven knows even after a thorough mopping session, my mother can tell where those bare feet have made their mark. OCD doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Growing up around that kind of obsessive behavior makes me constantly examine the level of stress in my life, and the extent to which my own behavioral patterns contribute to that stress. I’ve always seen my busy schedule and level of involvement as a positive thing, and I still do — but I’ve learned that certain things aren’t worth my time. I put too much work into meaningful organizations and people who appreciate that effort to worry about those that maybe aren’t so rewarding or useful. I’m proud of my involvement with various activities and I enjoy a lot of what I do, but from now on I’m resolving to cut out the things in my life that I spend more time complaining about than enjoying. It’s never too late in the year for a new resolution, right?

Oh, and number two: get a puppy.

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My recreation came out a bit differently:

Some things were changed intentionally: I didn’t zoom in as closely, I wore different clothes, and so on. I wanted the photo to look similar while also reflecting on how my life has changed since I shot that first image. Still, the differences that stick out the most to me are not the ones I added intentionally, but the subtle changes — the new thermostat in the background, the missing jewelry box in the center, the different porcelain figurines. Things I didn’t really notice until reviewing the photos together afterwards.

When I visited my high school, I picked up on the same sort of thing. Schedules had changed and there were a lot of new faces, but I expected all of that. What I never expect are things like new carpeting, different lighting, changed rooms and other things that were once a part of my daily life. Things I would probably pass by mindlessly if I were still a student there, shrugging them off as insignificant compared to completing the previous nights homework, attending a meeting or studying for an afternoon test during lunchtime. To me, what’s so interesting is how all those little changes seem to ultimately reflect that which remains constant. Time can change your experience of a place so drastically, but the comfort and the familiarity never seem to leave you — and for that, I will always return home from these visits with a sense of satisfaction.

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This was actually slightly disappointing.

And there’s new carpet. It’s hideous. Which doesn’t bother me so much, because the old carpet was almost just as hideous, but it just wasn’t my carpet. It’s not the carpet I walked on every day for four years. It’s not the carpet I rubbed my feet off on when I walked through those doors after my freshman camping trip and it’s not the carpet I lined up on with my fellow classmates as we prepared for our graduation. Those classmates are now scattered across the country at different colleges and the thought of never being together with all of them in the same room ever again is starting to bother me.

This is extremely important: we might not have the chance to discuss our feelings about this new carpeting.

I know it seems silly, but it’s not really the carpet itself that bothers me, but the fact that something has changed and I wasn’t there to witness it. I don’t see my friends every day and we’re not as (physically) close as we used to be. I know that means nothing in terms of true friendship, because we have and certainly will continue to keep in touch, but it’s just not the same. I can’t go out for bagels with them in the morning and I can’t eat lunch with them in our favourite classroom. I can’t go to every GSA meeting during activity periods and I can’t sit and groan with my friends about how early it is as we listen to morning announcements. It’s not like I wake up at 8 AM every morning and think, “wow, I really wish I were at my high school right now so I could know what the schedule changes will be for the day,” but the fact that I can’t just means that things are different now.

I like the familiar. New experiences are great and I definitely love college, but at the same time I want to be able to have everything I had before. I want to look back on things and know they’re still the same. I want to be informed when the colour of the carpet changes. I should know these things. I just should.

But all in all I had an amazing day. I loved seeing everyone, I loved being there, and afterwards I went to the mall with some friends and it was just like things always were. Our friendships haven’t changed and I don’t think they ever will, but next time I’d appreciate it if someone would tell me about the carpet. Please. These things matter to me.

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1. Coupons. Take them. Save them. Use them. Love them. Contrary to my former feelings of contempt for these precious little slips of paper, I’ve decided that coupons are absolutely divine. While I continue to sympathize with my fellow cashiers, I am now a college student. I cannot, in good conscience, pass up the opportunity to pay less for something than it’s worth or get it for free.

2. Clubs. Join a lot. It doesn’t matter if you only go to one out of the twenty you join – the main incentive behind this is free food. Like I said, never pass up anything if it’s free.

3. And while we’re on the subject of food (and, you know, not paying for it), get yourself some Tupperware containers. Bring them to the dining hall. They’re good for taking cereal, bagels, and plenty more. Water bottles can also be filled up with soda or your drink of preference. Trust me, this comes in handy when you’re sitting in your room at midnight, the dining hall is closed and you’re too poor to afford a fast food sandwich.

4. Always shower in the morning. That way, the bathroom has just been cleaned and you don’t have to deal with nasty hair or any other unidentifiable substances splattered all over the walls and floor. Even so, wear flip-flops. You probably don’t want to know what went down in there.

5. Speaking of showers, you’ll probably have to learn how to shave while balancing one leg on a shampoo bottle. I’m thinking of taking up yoga.

6. Oh, back to food: the MicroFridge is God.

7. DC++ is God. Oh, wait. That label is taken by the MicroFridge. Uh, DC++ is Buddha. If you haven’t heard of Direct Connect and you live in a dorm, you’re seriously missing out. I download songs in seconds and movies in minutes. Literally. I used to spend more time searching Google to simply find the torrent I was looking for.

8. Buy an external hard drive. Perfect for storing all of those movies you’re going to download with DC++. Oh, and maybe you should back up those research papers and shit, too.

9. With respect to schoolwork: everything they told you in high school was a lie. College is far easier than they make it out to be. Just more distractions. Lots of people, lots of things to do. Plus Facebook.

10. Speaking of Facebook – you’ll have tons of friend requests from people you’ve never met before and may never meet, but they’re in your college network, so you just shrug and assume you know them. Or should know them. Or might. Or could end up meeting them. Maybe not. But if you do, you end up saying something completely ridiculous like, “hey… don’t I know… uh, Facebook?” because you don’t want to sound like you’re sure of yourself. If you are, you’ll sound like you spend way to much time on the internet stalking their profile. If you don’t recognize them at all, you might sound like an ass. So you settle for a completely awkward exchange of words that will probably never lead to any sort of friendship. And if they do actually want to talk to you, they’re probably total nut cases. Stay away.

I’m off to the dining hall for dinner. And to stock up on cereal and fruit and whatever else they have that’s good to take back to my room. I’ll be back to share more of my wisdom with the world, though.

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When I first saw this quote freshman year, haning in my English teacher’s classroom, I just thought to myself: “Jeans aren’t even in fucking dress code.” Now that school is over, there’s a lot more I have to say about it. First of all, I now have the freedom to wear jeans any day of the week. And second, a lot more has changed than my wardrobe.

It’s funny how you can enter a place wondering how you could possibly survive the next four years there, and by the time it’s come to an end, wonder how it passed you by so quickly.

Graduation is in a week. I’m excited to be done with the work, obviously, but I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t miss high school. There are a lot of students and teachers I can’t imagine not seeing on a daily basis anymore. There are a lot of other people who have grown on me by now. There are a lot of people I never even got to know, but I really did love you all. I honestly don’t think there is one single person I won’t miss on some level.

I could list those of you who are especially important to me. I could list inside jokes and other memories. I could list favourite classes, teachers, and events. I could list the people I will miss the most, and I could list silly school rules I’m happy to be able to break now that I’m “free.” But the most important thing I can think of mentioning is how all of this–every single person I’ve encountered in the past four years, every single struggle I’ve faced, and every single achievement I’ve celebrated–has affected my life in some way. I’ve grown a lot and I’ve learned a lot, both inside and outside of the classroom, from students and teachers alike, and I will never forget what you’ve all taught me.

Basically, I’ve changed. And that seems like a really obvious statement, because we’ve all changed, and we are all constantly, continuously changing. But it’s extremely important that we all change–for the better. And it is just as important, as we move on, pursue new goals, meet new people, and try new things, to remember what helped us grow into the people we are today. You’ve all made a difference in my life, and though I know I won’t stay in contact with you all, and I know there are some of you I may not see again, we’ll always have one thing in common that keeps us connected.

Good luck, class of ’07.

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For those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about, I’ll briefly explain the project. We basically turned a room into a work of art that viewers experience as they watch a video that shows acts of hate throughout history. The walls are covered with graffiti containing hateful and discriminatory words, but after the hate video plays, the room transforms from dark to light and the walls become covered with sheets painted instead with words of peace. The video then transitions from acts of hate to acts of love. It’s hard to explain and it’s something you really had to experience, but basically, our goal is to spread a message of hope to our community, showing that love can overcome hate. After seeing the reactions from our audience, I think we’ve accomplished that.

Of course, there were times when a lot of us thought this project wouldn’t happen. Many of us didn’t believe we could pull it off. It got to the point where our class considered electing a delegate to speak with our teacher and gently explain that we simply didn’t have the capacity to complete what we started. But despite the doubts, the disagreements, and some mishaps along the way, it all came together in the end. Every individual person brought their own unique ideas and creativity to the classroom, culminating in a project that we are all extremely proud of and extremely blessed to have been a part of.

After the presentation, one girl came up to me in tears to express her appreciation for all of our efforts. And if she’s the only person at all affected by our work, the project was worth it. Seeing it affect just one person that deeply means it was a complete success, and that we accomplished what we set out to do. At that moment, the meaning of our presentation overshadowed every problematic detail and stressful debate we had along the way.

It’s interesting how after everything we put into that project, our own message didn’t fully hit home for me until I saw how it affected other people. Our presentation showed individual acts of courage in contrast with hate, war and genocide throughout history to prove that one person can make a difference, and ultimately, it was this one student who made the difference in my feelings about this project. If every single student in our school agreed to sign our pledge and stand up to an act of injustice after seeing our presentation, I don’t think it would mean nearly as much as this one student’s reaction.

We all crafted this idea from the start because we wanted and expected it to make an impact, but I don’t think any of us expected such gratification from the project or the response from our community. We certainly didn’t expect it to change our own feelings about our message and about ourselves so much, but the experience has definitely changed us all. When we spoke about peace and individual power and righteousness before, those were all just words. It was all theoretical. But now, we’ve proven it not just to our school, but to ourselves. We’ve never had such faith in our own words and ideas, and we’ve never felt closer to one another. All in all, I think Emily said it the best: “Yes — we complained, argued and struggled — however, I wouldn’t change a thing about our process or presentation. What we’ve done will be remembered for years to come, and I couldn’t be happier.”

For those of you who haven’t come yet, I hope you come next week to our evening presentation. I think you’ll find that the result completely speaks for itself.

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