Thought #3

Last night, I was watching a beautiful movie (Palmeras en la nieve), in which one particular scene stood out to me. Mind you, this scene has become such a norm in other movies, it never stands out and is sadly a normalcy in any society around the world. In the film, one of the female characters decides to visit her father’s past life and travel to Equatorial Guinea, where he had lived out his youth. Her aunt proceeds to tell her “you must be careful, it is not safe for a woman,” and instantly this struck a nerve in me. As mentioned, this comment IS common in movies and in real life, but it has always been accepted that women MUST be more careful than men in most situations. The question is, why is this normal? Why do women HAVE to be more cautious than men?

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Dream Girl

Humans use technology to improve their lives, to forge connections, to create time that doesn’t exist, to replace real interactions. When we devise a second version of ourselves on social media, do we lose a piece of our true selves in the process? Do our digital connections threaten our real life relationships? What happens if the filtered characters we’ve imagined take on a life of their own? 


Thought #2: Workaholic

Tap, tap tap. Clatter, clatter, clatter. I hear them fervently type away. They stop. They take a deep breath. They read out loud and/or think aloud what they are typing. They resume. I’ve become so accustomed to the pattern of sounds, I tune it out easily. This process repeats and recycles itself for the entire 9-5p shift.

During my first few days I could not help but think, what are they saying so much? Who do they communicate with so frequently? These people are the definition of workaholics.

Workaholic: (work·a·hol·ic)

wərkəˈhôlik, wərkəˈhälik/



1. a person who compulsively works hard and long hours.

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Costco, a modern love story

About two years ago, I stumbled upon a hysterical yet shocking article about a high schooler who was accepted to five Ivy League schools with… get this… a prompt about Costco. Five! Including Stanford, whose acceptance rate is lower than any Ivy League school. I am sure her GPA, SAT’s and all the other scores needed for university were outstanding in every way possible, but Costco? I began to rethink my life choices… maybe I shouldn’t have written about my gradual awareness of the obvious racial tensions in this country, and I would’ve been a stellar alumni from Brown University. Regardless, all envy aside, her prompt was impressive and without a doubt, creative.

For as long as I can remember, Costco and I haven’t been the best of friends. Its monstrously vast concrete inside is anything but welcoming. I always attempt to avoid entering or even stepping nearby, for fear of being kept in by its cold tentacles of products I convince myself to need, in large quantities. So I simply avoid it; except for one Monday night, the first Monday night after our most memorable of elections. I dreadfully walked in with my dad with the sole purpose of purchasing a large pizza (sidenote: they have the best pizza). As we waited, I saw a side to Costco I had never seen before. Whether it was because I have been blinded by my dislike or simply put, my world pre-election seemed to be heading into a new wave of progressiveness, the beauty was breathtaking.

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