It’s a huge surprise that William & Mary’s Pre-Collegiate program is already over. Those three weeks have been the embodiment of intellectual curiosity, mature relationships (to the naked eye), immature drama, splendid sacrifices, emotional sensitivity, attempted all-nighters, and just pure fun. It was so hard to say goodbye to the many people I met, and I thank my tenacious nature that I was able to accept the scholarship papers from my mum a couple days before the initial due date of the application and how I was willing to risk my Saturday afternoons on just writing my application essay. Never in my life have I met people that were like me, but also very much so different. For more of my “journals”, daily essays, check out this site and read more about my William & Mary experience.
http://www.wm.edu/niahd/journals/?browse=user&id=eusera
Being back home has been an emotional whirl-wind. I have to admit, as much as I love being back in my room, being able to blast eccentric music without thinking twice on what people have to say, I really do miss Virginia. Not just because of the air-conditioner, but just the atmosphere I became surrounded by. Although I got my taste on college and how my procrastination almost killed me, I am so excited for college. I do not have a clear view on where I want to go (I do have many in mind) but wherever I’ll attended, I’m hoping that it’ll equal or will be better than my experience I had at William & Mary.
One of the first things I did when I came home was go to the gym with my mum. We did this a lot during the summer and of course, during the school days. I only ran for about ten minutes on the treadmill, and I quickly went to the lounge and read magazines and watched NBC. I decided to read Oprah’s magazine entitled “O”. This one article intrigued me greatly and I am very upset that I was not able to read it before I went to Virginia.
“I want your honest opinion,” said my friend Joanna, handing me her unpublished manuscript. “Don’t whitewash; tell the truth. Promise!” Usually, when I am finished with an article, or two, I ask one of my friends’ to edit it and tell me what they think. To me, nothing is grander than having someone be extremely blunt on your piece of work. In fact, I crave the frankness. I mean, why is Simon Cowell’s money piling up like the degrees in Antarctica? Some people may not like Cowell’s belief’s – they are just a matter of opinion. People leaving the American Idol audition room, crying their eyes out because three critics said their singing was “terrible.” Crying may seem like a good activity, but savoring those opinions of others may help you in your way to glory. But how should I know? I’m just a fifteen year old girl, living in Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania who loves oldies music and lives off by Ramen noodles.
But back to the article I was talking about earlier, in “O” magazine, after the writer, Martha Beck gave her honest opinion on her friend Joanna’s unpublished manuscript, Joanna told Martha that her “attack” made her feel “inconsolable.” I never knew, “You’re so amazing. Putting more of you in the book would take it from great to sublime” was such hurtful words. However, Joanna is a sensitive individual that “requires a special set of skills, a defense against defensiveness.”
Over at William & Mary, I hanged out with a couple people who, I suppose you can say are considered sensitive. (And over at home, hell, I am literally surrounded by sensitive people. Not that it bothers me. I love all types of people.) After reading that article, I fully understand their actions they made towards the situations they’ve encountered and of course, why they said those defensive statements to/against me. I took it personally for a couple hours, but as the tension died down I became better – and prepared for the more defensive comments. As Martha Beck stated, it’s not that hard to jolt back at a defensive person with even more furor. This will eventually result in more catosphrophe and basically, it’s what she calls “The War of the Dinosaurs.” Instead, become a turtle. Basically, it’s “putting up your emotional shell.” It may seem hard, but think about paintings or a math problem. These thoughts will make your mind ponder in wonder while you are forgetting the comments said by a HDP (Highly Defensive Person).
I have to admit, but I remember I was very sensitive myself. I remember in the 7th grade, a 9th grader asked me for some gum. I didn’t have any with me, so she called me a bitch. I cried in front of the whole lunchroom and my “friends” really didn’t do anything to help. Hey, I thought it was bad giving candy to strangers too. After a while, I just became prone to hurtful comments that oddly enough, I decided to not take many of them seriously. It’s a bad habit – fo sho, but it’s a new phase of life for women: the Bionic Woman. (Another thing I read, but this time, in Cosmopolitan.)
When there comes a time when a HDP lashes at you, you simply respond, “All is well”. It may not make sense, “but since extreme defensiveness is itself off point, this actually works better than following your HDP’s arguments.” Dealing with an HDP may be rocket science at some points, but take Steve Irwin’s tactic on how he handled his reptiles – firmly, and most of all, lovingly.
To all the people I met at William & Mary, I love you and I thank JeZus (haha Chelsea) that I met you guys. You made my summer bliss.
Being back home has been an emotional whirl-wind. I have to admit, as much as I love being back in my room, being able to blast eccentric music without thinking twice on what people have to say, I really do miss Virginia. Not just because of the air-conditioner, but just the atmosphere I became surrounded by. Although I got my taste on college and how my procrastination almost killed me, I am so excited for college. I do not have a clear view on where I want to go (I do have many in mind) but wherever I’ll attended, I’m hoping that it’ll equal or will be better than my experience I had at William & Mary.
One of the first things I did when I came home was go to the gym with my mum. We did this a lot during the summer and of course, during the school days. I only ran for about ten minutes on the treadmill, and I quickly went to the lounge and read magazines and watched NBC. I decided to read Oprah’s magazine entitled “O”. This one article intrigued me greatly and I am very upset that I was not able to read it before I went to Virginia.
“I want your honest opinion,” said my friend Joanna, handing me her unpublished manuscript. “Don’t whitewash; tell the truth. Promise!” Usually, when I am finished with an article, or two, I ask one of my friends’ to edit it and tell me what they think. To me, nothing is grander than having someone be extremely blunt on your piece of work. In fact, I crave the frankness. I mean, why is Simon Cowell’s money piling up like the degrees in Antarctica? Some people may not like Cowell’s belief’s – they are just a matter of opinion. People leaving the American Idol audition room, crying their eyes out because three critics said their singing was “terrible.” Crying may seem like a good activity, but savoring those opinions of others may help you in your way to glory. But how should I know? I’m just a fifteen year old girl, living in Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania who loves oldies music and lives off by Ramen noodles.
But back to the article I was talking about earlier, in “O” magazine, after the writer, Martha Beck gave her honest opinion on her friend Joanna’s unpublished manuscript, Joanna told Martha that her “attack” made her feel “inconsolable.” I never knew, “You’re so amazing. Putting more of you in the book would take it from great to sublime” was such hurtful words. However, Joanna is a sensitive individual that “requires a special set of skills, a defense against defensiveness.”
Over at William & Mary, I hanged out with a couple people who, I suppose you can say are considered sensitive. (And over at home, hell, I am literally surrounded by sensitive people. Not that it bothers me. I love all types of people.) After reading that article, I fully understand their actions they made towards the situations they’ve encountered and of course, why they said those defensive statements to/against me. I took it personally for a couple hours, but as the tension died down I became better – and prepared for the more defensive comments. As Martha Beck stated, it’s not that hard to jolt back at a defensive person with even more furor. This will eventually result in more catosphrophe and basically, it’s what she calls “The War of the Dinosaurs.” Instead, become a turtle. Basically, it’s “putting up your emotional shell.” It may seem hard, but think about paintings or a math problem. These thoughts will make your mind ponder in wonder while you are forgetting the comments said by a HDP (Highly Defensive Person).
I have to admit, but I remember I was very sensitive myself. I remember in the 7th grade, a 9th grader asked me for some gum. I didn’t have any with me, so she called me a bitch. I cried in front of the whole lunchroom and my “friends” really didn’t do anything to help. Hey, I thought it was bad giving candy to strangers too. After a while, I just became prone to hurtful comments that oddly enough, I decided to not take many of them seriously. It’s a bad habit – fo sho, but it’s a new phase of life for women: the Bionic Woman. (Another thing I read, but this time, in Cosmopolitan.)
When there comes a time when a HDP lashes at you, you simply respond, “All is well”. It may not make sense, “but since extreme defensiveness is itself off point, this actually works better than following your HDP’s arguments.” Dealing with an HDP may be rocket science at some points, but take Steve Irwin’s tactic on how he handled his reptiles – firmly, and most of all, lovingly.
To all the people I met at William & Mary, I love you and I thank JeZus (haha Chelsea) that I met you guys. You made my summer bliss.
***More pictures to be added later. (After I save them to my computer.)
