New Friends May Come and Go but Awkwardness Lasts Forever

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Now how exactly do you make friends in college? As I'm going to a school that disregards the universally followed semester schedule I've taken to reading facebook quite extensively in the extra two weeks that I have on my hands. All of my friends facebook statuses resound with the same ebullient "I love College" declaration. Now besides giving me an unwelcome memory of an Asher Roth song, these statuses reiterate to me that I am not in college. The pictures of their new dorms, their wall posts about their annoyingly long homework assignments and early lectures seem completely foreign to me, like they're speaking a different language that I am trying hastily to translate (come to think about it this situation shares a striking resemblance to my french class). But mostly through by voyeurism I see how seamlessly they've made friends. Now my social skills aren't the most finally tuned instrument in the band room. I know, shocking right, considering my witty and charming disposition. But I'm really just not that friendly. Because who really wants to come across as that annoying, over eager, super cheerful girl? I mean that's usually the type of person I make fun of. I rarely even make friend requests on facebook because I don't want to come off as too eager or a person who check facebook constantly (albeit I have been doing just that in the last couple of days). Facebook, it seems, has been a breeding ground for pre-college friends yet I recoil from this form of friend making. Wouldn't it be pushy and a bit creepy to friend someone or write on their wall just because we're both in the Northwestern 2013 group? Yet I don't think my "eradicate eagerness" tactic is really going to be beneficial in this scenario. Of course I am going to try to force friendliness on my usually subdued temperament but how do I attain this without becoming pushy or scaring little children, or myself for that matter? Someone once told me that I was a bit of a loner and I'm starting to believe them. I mean I'm not going to pull a Salinger and move away to New Hampshire or anything but I just don't make friends that easily. Throughout high school I made a handful of great friends. And that was in place where I was reasonably comfortable and familiar with my surroundings. Which brings up another unnerving question.

Where exactly do you find these friends? Are they in your classes or your dorm or the clubs you join? How do you go about making friends in classes? I imagine there's no time to have a conversation while the teacher is giving a lecture and striking up a conversation about your interests in life in between your professors breaths about Tolstoy may just attract dirty looks. And what if the people in your dorm aren't exactly complementary to your character. Which seems like another hurtle. How do you go about making the right friends and not just ones for convenience sake. People say that they've made their best friends by chance. But what are the odds that you end up dorming next to your potential platonic soulmate or bump into them on the way to the dining hall? And this may be just be my paranoia but I think people get intimidated by me. And as much as I like to think it's because of my undeniable intelligence or my stunning good looks I think it's actually because of my name. People actually get scared of pronouncing my name wrong. Which is now that I think about it is understandable. When you pronounce someone's name wrong it's probably a bit disconcerting. Throughout my 13 years of public education teachers rarely called on my the first week. Mainly I think it was because they were apprehensive of saying my name. Now eventually people will become comfortable with my name. Though the usual curious/confused, wide eyed look on people's faces when I first introduce myself is to be expected, the obstacle isn't insurmountable. But do I really need another injury in my already handicapped friend making abilities? Hopefully I will make friends like a normal, socially balanced freshman. If not, well than at least I will be comforted knowing that New Hamshire isn't too far away.
On a Side Note: Aren't the outfits that the students are wearing the in picture just 80's-tastic?

What Rubbish!

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We all love the serious implications that fashion holds. We love hearing how Vera Wang's collection was actually a reference to the Bolshevik revolution and how Dior's expertly crafted dresses were actually inspired from Madame Butterfly. Fashion is said time and time again to be rooted in world much deeper than the planet of cocktail dresses. It is said that fashion acts as art history, a cultural meterstick of our times, a way to connect our vanity with self reflection. This is all very moving and touching but there are some days when you want to cut the Fidel Castro speech and exclaim, "People, they're just clothes." For those days there's rubbishmag.com which is like fashion's cheeky, flippant cousin that reveals all the silliness that is weaved into fashion's dignified seams. Because when you strip away the bombastic adjectives and the cerebral analysis fashion is just a whole lot of fun.

Absence Makes the Heart go Fonder

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Well atleast I hope so. I know I have been MIA on the blogging circiut as of late. But now that I have my laptop posts will become much more frequent. I hope I haven't lost the handful of readers that I had. Becauase well there's nothing sadder than a girl talking to herself. Until than I offer a peace offering in the form of a beautful Richard Avedon photograph

Braless Revisited

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To me the word braless is usually synonymous with Hedi Montag and wardrobe malfunctions (which coincidentally are tantamount to each other). Yet when Bottega Veneta did a version of this "loose" way of dressing it came off as erotic yet tasteful. When flipping through ads in a magazine I stopped and glanced twice at the Bottega Veneta spread. There was something almost carnal about it that dared you to look twice. The girls in the spreads looked in control and refined yet suggestive and cheeky. In the words of Harry Potter "mischief managed."

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The Lady of the Pink City

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I first remember reading about Gayatri Devi in 7th grade in a profile of her in Departure Magazine. She was the embodiment of everything that a young girl imagines a princess to be. She was beautiful and refined yet not completely tangible. It was almost as if she was ethereal somehow, leading a life that has long since rusted away in fairy tale books, unable to be fully captured through a story or a picture. They say that her wealth was "beyond imaginable" with a childhood filled with exotic adventures. According to a New York Times article, Devi shot her first panther when she 12, had a flock of trained parrots that could ride bicycles and pet turtles that had emerald encrusted shells.

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Despite her lavish life, which included shopping sprees at Harrods, Devi was not resented by the public for her extreme wealth and beauty. Unlike Queen Marie Antoinette and the Duchess of Devonshire who were ridiculed by there subjects for their ostentatious nature Devi symbolized a beacon of hope for women of lower castes. She created a school for young girls in Jaipur that focused on eradicating the traditional notion that girls should be uneducated and take purdah. Devi led the life of a traditional princess yet reached her hand out to get a firmer grasp in her surroundings. She was elected in Parliament 3 times and spend 5 months in jail.

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People often said that Devi was memorizing. With her French perfume and shimmering saris Devi was a socialite, splitting time between New York, London and Jaipur and entertaining the likes of Jackie O. Vogue voted her one of the top ten most beautiful women in the world. Yet this beauty was just as closely associated with Devi as it was with her city of Jaipur. And to me that is what is really alluring about Devi, her city. With it's beautiful palaces and ornate jewelry it seems like anyone could be a princess there, that everyone could live in a state of opulence. An opulence not defined by designer handbags but by a rich history. In Jaipur it seems that one gets a feeling of magnificence, a feeling that one cannot receive in a Waldorf Historia. It is a feeling of a culture, of a life that is hanging somewhere between obscelence and modernity. When Maharani Devi left our world a few days she left with us a city that is the one of the last of its kind, quite like Devi herself .

The Price of Being Wise

Oh the price of being wise

It's not so nice
I look like a chipmunk
The medicine puts me in a weird funk
I don't think my doctor was very good
He didn't do the things he should
I miss solid food
And I'm developing a bit of an attitude

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