Spanish is a beautiful language. You don’t say “I love you” in Spanish, you say “yo quiero comer culo” which translates to “you are the light of my life” which I think is one of the most beautiful things to say to someone
Soy una belleza tropical, es todo lo que necesitas saber.
So I’m in a art school. When I say that , I truly mean it. The New School is made up 7 divisions (or 8, who knows) and each one has a artistic focus. There’s Parsons for design, there’s the Jazz division, the Acting division, the Langners (I’m part of this one) which is a liberal art school for the people socially engage in the social sciences and many more I just can’t recall. And this whole art college idea, you can feel it in the air. The way each one of these individuals express theirself through their clothes, hair (I’ve seen green, blue, orange, you name it), opinions, everything. And then we have these amazing buildings, which I have to say having more than 10 computers labs full of macs its not necessary but it’s really damn pretty. We have 3 libraries within the “campus” (which is mainly buildings in the fifth avenue and streets 12,13,14,15 and 16 ) and access to like a dozen more around NY including the majestic NYU library where I already took a book (The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, yeihh!) And for this whole week I haven’t paid a thing on food cause it seems they are taking our tuition to give us in every workshop food of some kind, and I don’t complain.
I have meet people from Israel, Kenya, Lebanon, Hawai, Canada, Mexico, Greece and nether less to say this is rank as the University with more international students in the country.
The school offers A LOT of resources. I mean, If you fail, it’s clearly your fault. They even offer verbal improvement for international students with tutors.
I have come a cross to all kind of people with all kinds of interest and I’m really scared. I’m scared I will not be good enough. It’s like my anxiety decided to take the form of all the fears I have ever had. I actually felt really ugly just some days ago until this girl stopped me by and told me I was beautiful as fuck, and then I started to realized how people tend to look at me the same way I tend to look at people who I think are pretty and it’s sad but I feel pretty again and my will or self worth had nothing to deal with it. So yes, even when you think you have come over something it comes back to you. And it’s great to realized it, to know I still need to grow up and not only on the things I think I need to upgrade but as well in the things I thought I had already overcome.
Anxiety took form in shyness as well. But somehow I have managed to talk to people (which sounds simple but it’s not) and I’m even having lunch with Caroline (she lives in Brooklyn and her mom is from Czech Republic and her dad is Palestine which is pretty much the kind of heritage must of the people have here. Something like “I’m from London and my mom is from Germany and my dad from Russia”).
The think that what scares me the must is that I feel I own my family and friends to be amazing, successful . I mean, my family is breaking their asses to give me this education and every step I make from now on (or maybe this has been the way of life but I was too stubborn to realize) it’s part of their life. Every decision, every mistake , it’s somehow gonna be theirs as well. And with my friends, well I’m not there (at least not physically). I’m not there for the good days nor the bad days. And I’m scared they might forget how it feels to have me around cause I know I will never forget how it feels to have them. Not a day.
So yeah, I’m afraid but I’m so damn excited that it truly doesn’t make sense. Days are hard, I don’t feel like my self cause obviously english is not my mother language , I share a bathroom with my aunt and uncle in a seriously little apartment compared to mine, I can’t run at 5 am cause that would mean waking them up and they wake up late as fuck every day, I have been lost already twice, I don’t have friends or a boyfriend around but I like this. I like hard and no I’m not taking about penis or maybe I’m.
I’m excited to see who I’ll become. I think I’m ready to grow up.
The number of “get me out of here” tactics women have developed and shared to help each other escape from overly-insistent-to-borderline-predatory dudes in public places should probably be enough evidence of the existence of rape culture all on its own.