It's been six months since the last time I posted. I'm not sure what that says, considering that writing more was an overall goal of mine for the year. I wish I had a better reason than being tired and busy, which I think may just be a side effect of adulting.

These aren't really coherent thoughts, but I wanted to present a short list of things I've learned in my 25 years while I'm feeling kind of reflective.

1. Your heroes, even your biggest, most larger-than-life heroes, are people. They will make mistakes, and not always own them, and sometimes that will be okay.
2. Asking how someone is doing, and genuinely being interested in the answer, is one of the easiest things you can do to show you care.
3. You are under no obligation to make other people happy.
1. This is not open season to be a dick, though.
4. I am HORRENDOUSLY uncool. Accepting that you are uncool is the first step in living a slightly more liberated life. 
5. Sometimes self-care sucks: drink some water, take a shower, get out of bed, go to the doctor. It's good for you.
6. Sometimes self-care is great: bake cookies, eat cookies, take a bubble bath, pet a puppy. It's good for you.
7. Fighting is exhausting. Have fun with it or you'll burn out.
8. WEAR COMFORTABLE SHOES AND SUNSCREEN.
9. See #8.

On Summer in the City

Greetings, reader-type people!

I moved in yesterday to THIS lovely space:

That's right -- I'm living in a single (well, a single room in a suite) for the next eight weeks while I work at school.  I'll be spending the summer in Richmond for the first time ever, which is both really exciting and kind of bizarre.  As you can tell, I am clearly doing fun things all the time since I am clearly not blogging ever at all ever.

But I'm actually looking forward to the chance to get to know myself and this area/city a lot better over the next few weeks -- I'll get to experience what an actual 40-hour work week feels like (and figure out if I'm cut out for it at all), and hopefully get to spend time with some of my favorite people when I'm not at work.

Looking forward,
Rachel Leigh

On Finals Week (Page 6 of 8)

It's the last Sunday of the semester, and I'm holed up in the library writing a blog post.  You know what that means -- it's Finals week, and I'm once again using this blog as an excuse to procrastinate on whatever it is I am actually supposed to be doing.  Finals Week posts tend to be, in some ways, reflective, as I get a chance to look back on a semester of life lessons and stories and stupid generalizations (like my post about judging you based on where you study).

This one's a little different, because most of the time, Finals Week comes with a sense of finality.  Instead, I find myself already thinking ahead to three weeks from now when I'll be moving all of my stuff back into the dorms at U of R for my summer job.  It feels like nothing's really ending, which I think is compounded by my fundamental inability to grasp the fact that I'm going to be a senior in about two weeks.  None of it seems real -- nothing's ending, nothing's starting, it's just kind of fading into itself.  Is this what the real world is like?  Who knows?

For those of you who have finished your finals already -- well, I hate you.  For those of you still struggling through, best of luck!

'Twas the night before finals
And all through UR...

I'll come up with a way to finish that rhyme someday.

Good luck,
Rachel Leigh

On Identity

Thanks to the internet, we've learned over the years (and had it driven home with the whole Te'o fiasco), we can be anyone.  We can be any version of unreal we want -- whether it's simply the best possible version of ourselves or someone entirely different.

We've been trained in the Lady Gaga school of Identity: reveal enough that interests people, and you can control the questions they ask.  You can end up an entirely different person, simply by marshaling what you share and what you choose to keep a secret.

This pliability of identity can be liberating, and to some extent, it can be amazing.  But, of course, it also has its negative upshots -- complete anonymity and shifting identity lets people believe they can't be held responsible for the things they do...in spite of the fact that, very often, you can.

But the fact of the matter is that I can be the best, wittiest, happiest version of myself on the internet... more so than I ever could be in the offline world.  Even the name I use in my blog is a partial construction, pruned to be the person I choose to be.

I'm still tossing this idea around, but I think this idea of constructed identities is really necessary.

Identifiably yours,
Rachel Leigh

On "Nerd or Hipster?"

Big, thick-rimmed glasses used to be a pretty big giveaway that someone was a nerd.  Combine that with a button-up shirt, pocket protector, and pants that are a bit too short, and suddenly the "Revenge of the Nerds" theme song starts playing in the background.  But thanks to the advent of hipsters, who also seem to rock the too-short pants and the heavy-framed glasses, it's become a bit harder to tell the difference.  So, as promised by an earlier post, let me teach you how to tell if that guy you've just spotted is a nerd or a hipster.

• If he looks like he hasn't showered in the last week: hard to call. Potentially either.
• If he's rocking the "computer tan," that absurdly pale complexion that only comes from spending far too long inside (we're pretty sure at this point that eventually the screen sapping the tan from your skin as a form of ritual sacrifice): Definitely a nerd.
• If he's wearing a My Little Pony shirt:
• Ironically: Hipster
• Unironically: Brony. Run.
• If he references a band you've never heard of: Hipster
• UNLESS it's K-Pop, J-Rock, J-Pop, or from the soundtrack of any major video game, in which case Nerd.
• If he kind of looks like Skrillex: Hipster. Also likely a girl.
• If he references Star Wars, Harry Potter, Back to the Future, or ANY movie in the strain of WarGames, Hackers, or Revenge of the Nerds: Nerd. Also, he has great taste in movies and you should probably ask him out like right now.
• If he references any movie by Wes Anderson: Hipster. Also, he has great taste in movies too.  (Hey, I'm just a fan of good movies.)
• If he's wearing a wolf t-shirt
• And looks like a member of a one-man wolfpack: Nerd.
• And pairs it with a pack of Parliaments/Spirits and an ironic sense of humor: Hipster

And thus ends another horribly stereotypical post from me.  For the record, I love both nerds and hipsters, but sometimes this is a legitimate question (and also a game I frequently play when people-watching).

If anyone is interested in another one of these kinds of posts, let me know!

DFTBA,
Rachel Leigh

On Being Out of Shape

It's no secret -- I am entirely unathletic.  Made of tiny little wrists and next-to-no-muscle-mass and lungs that are ready to give out at any given moment, the idea of working out has never exactly appealed to me.  I mean, seriously, I get out of breath just THINKING about having to walk across campus.  And let's not even talk about how much I felt like dying after walking up the steps to Prague Castle.  Take my word for it, I have spent most of my life so out of shape that it was actually pretty laughable.

Which, of course, has sparked this never-ending cycle of not wanting to work out because I was so out of shape, and being out of shape because I didn't want to work out.  I've been trying over the last couple of months to be better about that, and I think to some extent it's been working pretty well.

The big question is going to be whether I can keep up this good behavior when I get back to school, or whether the lure of D-Hall fried chicken and being "too busy" (watching Netflix) to go to the gym will win out.

I've always had an odd relationship with working out, a combination of disliking how out of shape I was and feeling so helpless and overwhelmed (and, okay, I admit, lazy) to even know where to start to make it better.

Ohwell, here's hoping I can keep it up in the coming months.  If not, you have my permission to hit me.

"Round is a shape, right?"
Rachel Leigh

On Richmond

In a few days, we'll be loading up the car to take this show on the road, again.  And by "on the road," I mean about 275 miles down south to my second home, the River City, Richmond, Virginia.

Over the last three years, I've heard a lot of people say a lot of things about Richmond.  From my friends in high school who promised they'd send Sherman in after me if I wasn't surviving the South to friends from much further south commenting on how far North RVA really is, I've pretty much heard it all.

Which got me thinking -- Is Richmond really Southern or is it Northern?

On the one hand, Richmond was the Capital of the Confederacy during the Civil War.

And yes, this is what the ACTUAL Confederate flag looks like.  Learn some history, fools.

And trust me, riding down Monument Ave, it's easy to tell that they'll never forget it.  And Virginia itself isn't exactly known for being a beacon of northern ideals, though who doesn't love a little Southern hospitality from time to time?  (Although if you so much as dare to say "Bless your heart" in front of me, we might have a problem.)  Besides, I have never been called a Yankee so many times in my life (you know who you are).

But at the same time, Richmond itself is a relatively Northern city -- more progressive than a lot of its more-Southern counterparts, and I dare you to find someone with a twang.  Go ahead, try.

In a lot of ways, it's almost like this little Northern Bubble inside a very Southern state (and don't get me wrong, the University itself is even more a Northern Bubble (two words: Nantucket. Red.)).  Never truly Northern and never truly Southern, not really belonging to either.

Confusedly yours,
Rachel Leigh

On "Gay or Hipster?"

I like art and music.  As such, I often find myself in places full of hipsters.  As such, when I'm at a concert, or an art show, or even just out with friends, if I see a well-dressed, reasonably attractive guy, I'm confronted with a question -- is he gay or just a hipster?  (This is not, of course, to mean that the two are mutually-exclusive.)  As such, I've decided to give you, my darling readers, a list of possible ways to tell the difference.

• If he's wearing a bow-tie:
• And looks like Doctor Who or a lumberjack: hipster.
• And looks like Blaine Anderson: probably gay.
• If he compliments your taste in music: probably a hipster.
• UNLESS it's Lady Gaga, Cher, or Madonna, in which case, probably gay.
• If he admits to appreciating Carly Rae Jepsen un-ironically: either gay or a frat boy, but definitely not a hipster
• If he's at a museum:
• With his mother: avoid at all costs.
• With his girlfriend: hipster (and likely whipped)
• With his boyfriend: gay (duh)
• If he's wearing a "SOME __ MARRY ___.  GET OVER IT." t-shirt: gay.  Or just awesome.  Or both.

And now that I've offended a good number of people, we'll end this list.  Feel free to email or comment with more ways to tell the difference, and make the lives of single girls who are attracted to well-dressed men everywhere easier.  Because in a world of Neil Patrick Harrises, Matt Bomers, Tyler Oakleys, and more, we need to stand a fighting chance.

Tune in again for "Nerd or Hipster" when I tell you how to know if that guy in the wolf t-shirt is doing so ironically or because he's a member of a one-man wolfpack.

Best of luck,
Rachel Leigh

On Halloweekend/Update

Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays.  Which is odd, because I spent many years of my life with a pathological fear of Halloween decorations.  No haunted houses for me, thanks.  But when I was younger, I used to love the ridiculous Halloween costumes that my mother and I would plan out (which always won me awards and free stuff, and we all know how much I love free stuff), even though my request in sixth grade was that I wanted a costume that, for once, I could sit down in.  Try sitting down in an operating traffic light costume.  Do it, I dare you.

Not the point.  The point is, that as I got older, my costumes got slightly less inventive, but I never stopped enjoying planning them out, even as college began putting demands on me for four and five costumes over the course of Halloweekend.  Which is why it made me slightly sad to realize today that Halloween weekend is only four days away (three depending on who you ask), and I haven't even thought about a costume or plans or anything.  I think it's partially because Halloween isn't really that big a thing here (and because I've had a lot of other things on my mind recently), but it just makes me sad that it could have snuck up on me like this.

On the bright side, Tivoli has this gorgeous and magical Halloween village that made me really happy, so I'll attach some photos of that.  Regularly scheduled rant posts will resume in a few days.

On Weirdness

I think it's funny how someone's response when I call them weird is always to shoot back, "No, you're weird!"  I mean, yes, I am.  I'm totally weird.  I'm like the weirdest person I know.  But why does MY being weird preclude your ability to be weird?  Does my being tall somehow stop other people from being tall?

 

I can understand noting the hypocrisy, if I were somehow saying that you're a bad person because you are weird, but it's not like that.  You may have done or said something that I found odd because it doesn't make sense to me or it's unconventional.  That doesn't make it bad, but it does make it, at least to me, weird.  Why does the fact that I am also a weird person somehow make you not-weird?

 

One of my favorite quotes comes from Dr. Seuss: "We're all a little weird, and life is weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love."  The fact that you're weird doesn't make you somehow less -- it makes you capable of mutual weirdness.  But just because I point it out, doesn't mean you have to go "Nuh uh, you are!" like I just called you smelly on the playground.

 

Embrace the weirdness -- but recognize it.

 

Yours in mutual weirdness,

Rachel Leigh

100!

Darlings, I do believe I promised you a 100th post extravaganza!

Well...I don't really have anything extravaganza-worthy to say.

So, we got our crack team of graphic designers to whip up a celebratory graphic for the occasion.

I'm thinking maybe we should fire our so-called "crack team of graphic designers."  That is an infuriating gif.  Off with their heads!

I came up with an awesome idea for a post today at work, and then I totally forgot to write it down and now I have no idea what I had intended to say in the first place.

Anyway, I never thought, two and a half years ago, that I would still be blogging today, let alone at the 100 post mark (and most of them actually quality posts and not just crap!  I know, I'm just as surprised as you are!)

Here's to many more years and many more posts to come.

Here's a better gif for you.

Yours, most sincerely and forever,
Rachel Leigh

On Holding it Together...and Faking it When You Can't

Do you ever have one of those days?  One of those days where literally nothing from the moment you wake up goes right and you're pretty sure that if someone looks at you the wrong way, you'll probably either scream, cry, vomit, or potentially all three at once?

This is not to say that today was one of those days, but god, do I have those days.  Waking up feeling like there are small jackhammers taking turns at the inside of your skull and knowing that no amount of sleep will ever make this better.  Going to class and getting an assignment back only to realize you completely bombed it.  The dining hall's bad and it's raining and if you had the opportunity to just fast-forward through this day to the next one, you would take it in an instant.

Well, thankfully, I've developed some coping mechanisms for days like these...as well as some ways to at least appear like you're coping.

1. Comfort Food:  This is no new discovery, but there are very few things in the world that comfort food can't at least make infinitesimally better.  I'm a big fan of soup and grilled cheese.
2. Caffeine: I may hate today.  I may want to punch the sun for being out when I'm in a bad mood.  But a little caffeine kind of forcibly perks you up.  It's hard to stay angry when there's liquid chemical happiness energy coursing through your bloodstream at roughly twice your normal heart rate.  It kind of makes me want to go run a mile or six.  Haha, I lied, nothing makes me want to run six miles.
3. Dress Up: No really.  This is my go-to way to push through when I feel like absolute crap.  At the very least, other people will THINK you feel awesome, and the positive energy that you get back from that will help.  Plus, inside tip -- dresses are the best thing ever.  They always look put-together and all you have to do is take them off the hanger and put them on. Also, sunglasses.  Learn it.  Love it.

So that's how I survive.

Holding it together,
Rachel Leigh

On Things You Shouldn't Do in Public

Darling readers, if you're friends with me on Facebook or, god forbid, follow me on Twitter (in which case, I'm sorry), you know that I have a really low tolerance for people who can't seem to understand simple rules about what is and is not acceptable in public places.

Today, I was on the bus, which is a place that I find myself a few times a year as I travel back and forth between my home outside of Philly and my home-away-from-home in Richmond.  I could rant for days about the stupid things people do on the bus, but I think I'll cut it down to a few things that I really think should never happen on public transportation.

1. If there are children or old people on the bus, I don't want to hear you cursing somebody out or dropping the F-bomb every other word.  It's just not classy and, in addition, is offensive to old people and probably scarring to little kids.
2. Headphones have a purpose.  Their purpose is to allow you to hear your music/movie/video game without making everyone else have to hear it too.  Use them.  Also, if you are using them and I can still hear your music, you're using them wrong.  And probably causing serious aural damage while you're at it.  Good job.
3. There are things that I'm pretty sure you should just NEVER do in public.  Watching porn comes to mind.  Or, if you're the man behind me on the bus, consider that the bus is probably not the best place to conduct what only could have been a drug deal and a booty call.  Not smart, not classy.

I mean, I can't be the only person in the world who doesn't expect to be offended for an entire six hour bus ride.

Stay Classy, Public Transit,
Rachel Leigh

On Data, Logic, and Summer Camp

Ad hoc, ergo propter hoc.

Forgive me for taking Philosophy classes when I was younger. Forgive me for being a dork about logical fallacies. And forgive me for the fact that I am always, therefore, hesitant to assume that just because two things have a numerical correlation, they must be related.

This fallacy translates to "with this, therefore because of this." It is probably the most irritating, in my opinion, of all fallacies, and I have to note a problem here. A consulting/research firm called Hunch released survey information recently that showed a correlation between kids who went to summer camp and kids who have seen a therapist and announced that "Hunch users who went to summer camp were 13% more likely to patronize a therapist."


http://hunch.com/explore/prospect/report/?e1=671884&e2=785033

Excuse me, HOW are these related? At all? Yes, I went to summer camp. And yes, I have sought care from a therapist. Do I think the two are at all related? No. There are about 30 different factors that, quite honestly, contribute to seeking a therapist aside from attending a summer camp.

First of all, there's the possibility that a student who was sent to summer camp was sent because both parents were working which, admittedly, could cause some emotional instability in a child needing more attention. But, quite frankly, I'd attribute this correlation to what is actually a positive factor: the kind of parent who would send their child to summer camp because they want what's best for their child is, in my opinion, also probably the kind of parent who would more likely advocate that their son or daughter seek help when they're struggling with something. Which, I think, ultimately shows a more positive environment than a negative one.

Hunch presents this information as if going to summer camp is in some way emotionally scarring. And I'm sure it could be, as much as going to the circus can be mentally scarring for a child with an irrational fear of clowns or going to visit a family member can be emotionally scarring for someone who has been sexually abused. It doesn't mean that going to the circus or visiting family are universally scarring experiences. But if this little piece of survey information, framed in the logically unsound manner it has been, gets out, parents may decide to stop sending their children to summer camp.

And I can tell you that the summers I spent at camp are some of the best memories and healthiest experiences I have ever had, and it bothers me that a company that specializes in statistics and analyses of human behavior could so blatantly misguide people about the data they're presenting.

Irritatingly yours,
Rachel Leigh