Lack of Focus

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I have a nasty habit of being all over the place – well, I guess you’d call it more of a personality trait than a habit, but my point still stands. If you need better evidence, just take a look at the majority of papers and drafts I’ve gotten back from my professors. Somewhere there is a “lack of clear focus” or “these ideas aren’t tied together” scribbled in the margin. To be honest, the only situation I’m really good at fixating in is anxiety attacks, and I certainly don’t want to make a life out of that.

Journalism school terrifies me sometimes because I feel like everybody has a trademark: there are the fashion-obsessed, the foodies, the music junkies, the editors-in chief, and the technologically savvy mass media people, and they all have outlets in which they represent themselves accurately and wholly. And then there’s me, the one who blogs almost anything from recycled homework to rants about stupid people and ideas she really doesn’t agree with. And I don’t know why, but I feel like trademark people just have everything together and are taken way more seriously because of it. Just thinking about it frightens me (go anxiety theme). My fingers are even trembling right now.

But I have to stop thinking about things like this, because I don’t think I can ever be one of those one-track people. I can’t even pick a single favorite color or food. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a trademark. It’s a quality I envy and don’t think I can ever have, just because of my history, genealogy, and influences.
Everything about me is a multiple. I consider myself multiracial to a degree, or at least multicultural – if I can’t qualify as multiracial because I look white and middle eastern is technically white on every standardized test I have ever taken (even though I check both “white” and “other”), then I’ll just settle with spicy. My home life is split in two. Ever since I was six and my parents split up, I’ve had to live under a joint custody. My shrink says I’m a dichotomy between an old soul and a child. I’m a double major because I couldn’t decide whether I liked literature or writing stories more – I like words! Why can’t I just like everything about words?

One hundred percent of me agrees that I’m not cut out to be one of those one-track people, and at least now I am entirely agreeing on something. I like too many things. I like words. I like eating. I like humor. I like sleeping. I like clothes. I like music. I like traveling. I like playing psychologist. I like taking pictures and recording things. I like people (well, sometimes). I think most of all I like liking things. It’s way easier to narrow down a list of the things I hate: bees, brussels sprouts, not being warm enough, being the tallest person under the umbrella, and numbers. See how much easier that was for me?

I don’t know if dualities are the way to get noticed in the real world and the future, but I guess I’m going to have to deal with it, because even though not having a clear focus makes me look really juvenile, I kind of like not having a trademark.
So from now on, I’ll just sell myself as someone who likes everything excluding that list above, because god forbid I will ever write a story about something like beekeeping.
I’ll work this.
Or, I guess I should say these.

This isn't in focus either. Get it?

This isn’t in focus either. Get it?

My European Grams

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My favorite place

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Typical egg day breakfast

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Nutella banana crepes in Vienna

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I died

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I don’t know grass is trendy in Europe

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Palace gardens in Vienna

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Don’t let looks deceive you – this was fantastic

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Just riding a bus

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Pho in Munich

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Italy

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My friend, the potato

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I just liked the typography

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My favorite

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I got really drunk this night

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I love it

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Can’t you tell I read here a lot?

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Oh my god, eggplant

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Before everything turned pink

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Happy Time Dusche

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The fanciest coffee I’ve ever had

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Italy-boot bottle

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I did not get really drunk this night

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World’s best grilled cheese

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Caprese sandwiches all the time

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I just really love snails

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Who knew?

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They terrified me, so now I’ll terrify you

A Secret Party

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My local friends threw me a surprise birthday party in a secret location today. There was a homemade cake. There were homemade tiny pizzas. We are the only people in the world who know where the secret party happened. I can’t really say much because I don’t want to reveal anything.

It was pouring torrentially when I left my dorm today, so, as you can see, I didn’t take my camera and instead resorted to the camera on my phone.
Just some things I did and actually took pictures of today.

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I ate like an emperor.

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There’s so much more to the Hof Garten than the bar!

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The King and I. Get it?

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Austria is nuts about cards.

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I ordered some chai and got a whole teapot full.

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A view from the location.

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Cornelia and the cake.

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The beautiful darling pizzas.

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Cake.

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Our light.

Carnival

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I went to the carnival with Evelyn today. Carnival rides are definitely more expensive here. They also last three times longer, which is alarming. Oh, and I almost lost my cell phone on a ride, so I learned something valuable today: don’t go on carnival rides with shit in your pockets. Especially phones. Especially phones that aren’t technically yours. The fair food is way better here, and please notice the beautiful airbrush art. Some lady bitched at me for taking pictures, but I was able to salvage Michael Jackson.
Here are some things I saw and ate:

So cheesy, I know. It was just a really pretty day. The light was nice!

Victory!

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Last night I turned in early yet again because all I could think about was how exhausted I was and revising something that I’m writing. Determined to top four and a half hours of sleep, I popped a whole sleeping pill in my mouth, grimaced because it started dissolving before I had swallowed it, and plopped into my bed.
When I awoke, my first thought was, “fuck, it’s 4:30 and I’m awake.” My alarm went off five seconds later.
Realizing that I actually had gotten a full night’s sleep for the first time in a week gave me an added surge in my energy. The window didn’t feel too chilly, so I could wear a tank top, I hadn’t lost any sleep, and I was about to drink some tea and enjoy my breakfast. You know how I love my breakfast. I wouldn’t even need a cup of that wretched coffee!
Since I wasn’t a zombie, class went better than usual. I aced my Daisy Miller quiz, and even though I fully expected it since I’ve read the story before, I still felt a brightness as I looked at the 20 with the smiley face in the 0 scribbled on the top of my page.
Evelyn said she would go to the lake with me tomorrow. I haven’t done much with any locals aside from talking to creepy older men in bars and impressing our housekeeper and Joyce, so I really want to go. We can talk about things I actually care about: food; literature; places; our families. And why shouldn’t I befriend a local?  We have common interests, and I haven’t really been able to bond extensively with many people here. Well, girls at least. It’s so much easier for me to talk to guys here. They like food, and good food at that, and they don’t give a fuck about counting calories. I should probably hang out with more guys.
After my class ended, I walked around the city for a while. Aside from a store where I could buy tweezers and a gelato stand, I had no destination in particular, and that was really nice. I haven’t managed to find a portable keg like the one I saw somebody wearing the other day, but I did see a Mozart shot glass, and that amused the hell out of me. I want to say I walked past a few useful places too – a bike shop, a Thai restaurant, places that sell sunglasses. Even going out was okay, because the dollar drinks for today actually tasted good and I befriended some guys who really like food. Maybe I’ll go eat with them one day or something, because they are the only other people I’ve encountered who are as excited as I am about a Thai restaurant being here. And I ate a grilled cheese sandwich.
All that’s really been on my brain is editing and producing. I really want this story I’m working on to be good. I mean, it is good, but I really want to make it the best it can be. I’ve been rereading it relentlessly – learning about Hemingway’s revising techniques is getting to my head.  At the same time, I’m really excited because I’ve never thought about writing so much. Sometimes all I want to do here is separate myself from everybody else and expand my ideas, edit my story, and churn out some reflections to post on here. Sorry if this post didn’t really have a point. I’m just in a great mood. I’m finally starting to feel like an active writer.
If I go to the lake with Evelyn tomorrow I’ll put some pictures up. I don’t really feel like the pictures I’ve taken so far are very blog-worthy.
And for now? A shower, a little The Sun Also Rises, and ideally, some more writing and editing.

Instagrams from New York

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Well, basically I had one of the most incredible weekends ever. I ate a lot, ate some more, got to eat rhubarb, got to eat dumplings, went to the Gay Pride Parade, ate sandwiches and tarts in Central Park, took a nap in Central Park, listened to Michael Jackson in a taxi, and had the opportunity to tour Teen Vogue headquarters in Times Square – I was a little starstruck, so I couldn’t speak without sounding like an idiot the whole time, and all I could get out was “thank you so much,” “thank you,” “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” and “this is incredible.” I just hope I can end up in that building again someday – maybe every day.
And oh my god, I’m leaving for Europe in four days.

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Flying up

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Part excitement, part me seizing the opportunity to make a funny face.

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That’s right, I got into the Conde Nast building.

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Teen Vogue’s closet contains the most beautiful shoes I’ve ever seen.

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They handed me a Coach hat and Chloe bag to wear while my picture was taken. I didn’t hesitate!

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I had to get one in front of the sign, come on.

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Andrew gave me a souvenir. This isn’t in stores at the moment.

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The pictures are blurry because I couldn’t stop shaking.

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I just really liked this window.

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Yeah, I’m not getting rid of this sticker.

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Rhubarb crisp at The Little Owl.

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Lobster salad. It was oh-my-god good.

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PAC-man dumplings. Genius and delicious.

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Gay pride parade.

The Book

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Here’s the book I made my dad for his birthday if any of you are interested in looking through it.
And yes, that does mean I managed to work through the Blurb software. Hope you like it!

http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/invited/2726282/a8e468f069b53e36cb19c6902eb2762d0ca745ea