Stress

The activity that causes me the most stress is writing papers. It is very difficult for me to focus on one topic and gather my thoughts, especially if I'm not interested in what I'm writing about. This was stressful in high school, and now that I'm in college, it's an even bigger stress, because the teachers expect a higher quality of work. I don't know how to make this stress go away. I thought that majoring in math would be a good solution, but apparently I'm still expected to be able to speak English.

When I am stressed, I am easily upset and tend to cry about stupid things. I don't think that I take the stress out on anyone but myself, which probably makes it worse. Something that usually helps me relieve my stress is singing. In high school, I sang often in choir, musicals, and other events. Singing helps me relieve stress because it's something I can feel good about doing. Also, I've read that singing releases endorphines, which makes you happier. I haven't been singing in college though, and I think not having an outlet is taking a toll.

Another thing that I do when I'm stressed is take a break from work to drink tea and listen to soothing music. My partner Maria and I did that today while she painted my nails, which is her way of relieving stress. Just doing these things and not focusing on anything else for an hour or so was a very relaxing experience, not necessarily because of the activities we were doing, but because we were forcing ourselves to not think about anything outside of the moment.

Lost In Philadelphia

Well, I totally forgot what the blog prompt was, so instead I'm going to tell you all the story of how I messed up with public transportation last Tuesday and spent an hour and a half on the subway.

It all started with my Honors Law class. "Go volunteer!" she says. "It will be fun!" she says. So, on Tuesday afternoon, I leave class and head toward the subway to go downtown and help immigrants with their English (side note: I am barely capable of speaking English myself. I don't know how I got into honors, but my trying to teach immigrants English will probably confuse them more). I'm supposed to be at the Nationality Services Center on Arch Street by 5:30. Here's a timeline:

4:50 I get out of class. Two other students that I'm volunteering with say they've forgotten volunteer forms. I have too, so I graciously volunteer to go to the Honors Lounge and print everyone's forms out while they go drop their things in their dorm rooms. I'll meet them in fifteen minutes at Cecil B Moore station. I go to Tuttleman, print out the papers, and head back out.

5:05 I'm strutting my way toward the subway when I realize a crucial object that I'm missing: cash for tokens. Sighing, I turn around and go to 7-11 on Liacourus Walk, anticipating a quick token trip. Now I'm not sure if anyone reading this has been to 7-11 on a weekday afternoon at 5:00; before this trip, I had not. But upon entering, I realize that this will not be a quick trip. Apparently, 5:00 is a popular time at 7-11, because the lines are literally out the door. I look at my watch and get in line.

5:15 After standing in line for ten minutes (and moving three inches), I realize that I've actually had a ten dollar bill in my pocket this whole time.

5:17 I'm running out of 7-11 when I catch someone familiar out of the corner of my eye. It finally clicks in my mind that it's someone I did theater with in high school. I didn't know she went here, and I'm so shocked that I can't even avoid eye contact and keep running. We have a quick exchange, but I realize once again that I'm late. I run off toward the subway.

5:26 I'm in the subway station, and my friend Brooke. She says she's here too, but I don't see her. Confused, I look around, and in the process let an incoming train leave without getting on it. Great.

5:34 I still can't find Brooke, but I get on the next train that comes. I'm already four minutes late to volunteer. Grateful to rest, I sit down in a seat and let my mind take a break.

5:42 I've been on the train for almost ten minutes, yet I'm still not at City Hall. Does this seem right? Suddenly I realize that I've not recognized any of the stops on this train. Then it clicks: I'm on the northbound, not the southbound. Snapping back into reality, I stand up and get off at the next stop. I have to go out into the street to get to the southbound train, and I step out into a sketchy neighborhood that I'm unfamiliar with. Is it just me, or are people giving me funny looks? My heart races, and I clutch tightly to my bag. This sounds rather ignorant of me. Am I racial profiling? I cross the street and go to the other side of the station. I just missed the train. At this point I'm fifteen minutes late.

5:50 The next train comes and I get on. I'm going in the right direction. The problem is, I'm going rather slowly because kids keep messing with the doors on the train. Really? Is it necessary to make each stop four minutes long?

6:00 Brooke calls me. She says it takes ten minutes to walk to the NSC from City Hall. Great. As we pull up to one of the stops, I see a train coming up in the express lane. I'm finally catching a break! I run off of my train and on the the express. I'll be at City Hall in no time.

6:05 This isn't the express train. This is the Broad-Ridge Spur.

6:07 I get off the train, in Chinatown. I didn't know that any trains went to Chinatown. Looking back, that was good information to find out, but at the time I didn't fully appreciate it. I get on the northbound to go back to the Broad Street Line.

6:12 Once again I'm headed in the right direction.

6:20 I get off at City Hall. All I have to do now is get to the NSC. The trouble is, they've blocked off every street exit that I can find. City Hall confuses me enough to begin with, and this is definitely not helping me. Finally, I find a way out. I look at my watch. It's 6:30; volunteering hour is over. Defeated, I turn around and get on the northbound train.

The moral of the story is don't try to use public transportation when you're overtired. Or if you're incapable of using logic to navigate your way around the city.

I hope that everyone reading this enjoyed my story, and doesn't give me a zero for straying from the prompt.

Stereotypes

In class the other day, we were split up into groups according to what we were wearing. People with casual shoes went to one group, sneakers to another, and dress shoes which I was wearing, went to the last group. Once in the groups, we were asked to judge the other groups based on what they were wearing. It is interesting to see how people reacted once they were given permission to freely judge anyone on appearances. Some people were all over, excited to be able to rip the other groups apart. The chance to judge someone on a shallow level seemed like a fun game to most. Others were more reserved, afraid to say anything bad about the other groups. These people tended to stick with more generalized, neutral comments about the other group. Overall, it was a somewhat enjoyable experience for everyone to do the judging.
When it came time to receive our judgments from the other groups however, it was shocking to hear how harsh some of them were. My group in particular received comments such as "pretentious" and "low self-esteem." It was all in a joking manner, of course, but it was kind of a reality check to receive the judgment instead of judging someone else. It was funny, but crazy to think that people could infer (mostly incorrectly) so much about someone's personality just based on what they are wearing. In class, it was mostly a joke, but it happens in real life all the time.
This reminded me of my friends' attitude toward kids who attend Penn. I know this is not true for everyone who goes there, but many kids at Penn seem to have a pretentious attitude. My friends and I are guilty of judging people who dress like they go to Penn (why does everyone there dress the same?) by the same standards. Any time we see someone with boat shoes and a nice sweater or collared shirt, we start making jokes about how snobby they must be. This is ridiculous, because how you dress does not in define you as a person, but it's easy to get swept up into stereotypes and believe them.

Field Trip!

Reading Terminal Market

Reading Terminal Market is a wonderful place. As soon as you walk through the doors it's buzzing with hungry people and you notice the array of delicious smells. When I visited last Wednesday, it wasn't my first time there, but I was still overwhelmed. I am not good at making decisions, and at a place like Reading Terminal Market where you can find any food from any culture, it is next to impossible for me to make up my mind. But I was determined to try something new, so with a little help from friends, I finally settled on an Indian and Pakistani restaurant. While I'd had and enjoyed Indian food many times before, I'd never tried Pakistani food, and this seemed like a good opportunity to step outside of my food comfort zone.

My dinner excursion

I orded my chicken dish (I'm still not sure how to pronounce it) and confirmed with the men working there that it was in fact a traditional Pakistani dish. I tried to further converse with them, but neither spoke English well and had thick Pakistani accents that were difficult to understand. I then sat down and enjoyed my chicken and complementary chai masala tea, both of which were delicious. I can't wait to return to Reading Terminal Market with my roommates so we can all push our food comfort zones.

Tagxedo