It's All Good, Baby Baby

✿ go for it ✿   Angel. Oberlin. Vegetarian. Feminist Kill-Joy. Writer. Cute girl and coffee enthusiast.
I got questbridge!! This is the most amazing day ever. Thank you so much to everyone who helped me out and prevented me from breaking down or giving up. I am one step closer. Brown class of 2019, I’m making it happen.

I got questbridge!! This is the most amazing day ever. Thank you so much to everyone who helped me out and prevented me from breaking down or giving up. I am one step closer. Brown class of 2019, I’m making it happen.

— 12 hours ago with 2 notes
#questbridge  #questbridge finalist 
Anonymous asked: You're weird


Answer:

chill 

— 13 hours ago
befoer asked: Hey message privately!!! Angel - as one questie to another - I sincerely sincerely hope the best for you and hope you get finalist today. I'm in the same position as you right now - without Questbridge I'm not going to college. I recommend that you join the Questie facebook groups: 2014-2015 QuestBridge Family (college prep + college match); and Class of 2015 Questbridge Senior Support Group. Good luck tonight!! My name's Gasira btw :) Did you rank any colleges for match?


Answer:

oh my goodness thank you!! I really hope you become a finalist as well!! I just joined. Good luck to you Gasira! Yeah, I ranked Columbia, Brown, Oberlin, UPenn, Swarthmore, Vassar, Pomona, and Wesleyan! Did you rank? 

— 13 hours ago
mi-loo asked: Post it in your blog.. I love to learn people's stories


Answer:

alright i’ll just attach it to this:

  I can describe home perfectly. I can almost smell the ripe mango picked fresh from the backyard and taste the sweet juice as I greet a new day. Another beautiful sunrise in Central America.  This home is a far away place - a place I am unfamiliar with but one that I can describe vividly. Nonetheless, these were events that I have not experienced myself. Still they were memories that felt like my own, playing a large role in my development. As a small child, I would ask my mother to tell me about her childhood. Cuéntame una historia, tell me a story. On lazy Sunday afternoons she would describe her earlier memories with a thick Hispanic accent, memories of her favorite place in the world. I recall my mother telling me stories of the mango trees in her old backyard, picking coconuts with her father on humid summer mornings, and my favorite - el carnaval. I loved the stories of the roller coasters, ferris wheels, and the men that would dress like diabolitos clad in all black to scare children. I could imagine it all, the costumes, the decorated cars, the taste of corvina with pico de gallo and lime- a Panamanian favorite. I would feel the bullet in her hand that remained from the police releasing fire on the student protesters, as she told me stories of her times as a radical student. I would then be transported to 1985, protesting the corrupt government under the leadership of dictator Manuel Noriega.

My own childhood was much different.

  It is 1997 and George and Elena welcome a very unhealthy baby girl to the world. The diaphragm hernia means they have to move to The United States. There is not a single picture of the child without an oxygen tank. It is 1999 and the silent child with large looming eyes watches as her small family crumbles, the noises more like construction site sounds than the voices of parents. After months of shouting the child never sees her father again and it is then that she learns that a woman can fill the roles of both a mother and a father at the same time. It is 2004 and a girl of seven with mousy brown hair sits in corners of the local public library enveloped in whichever history topic most seemed intriguing at the time, topics like the sinking of the Titanic, the Holocaust, or the American Civil War. Next, it is 2007 and my lanky ten year old self eagerly awaits my sister’s physical therapist. All I really understood then was that my sister had cerebral palsy which meant she required extra help and attention and that her therapist always brought toys. Yet I remember sitting on the carpet during these sessions simply observing and knowing something was wrong, knowing there had to be something else behind my mother’s solemn gaze. I was simply too young to comprehend the long term emotional and financial toll the big words would take on my family.

 At the time, the gravity of the stories my mother told me never really occurred to me. I had not realized how vital it was for her to pour these memories into me. I was her vessel. I also did not realize how it would come to fuel my aspirations to create a future as beautiful and meaningful as the stories that were etched into my mind. Knowing I could build my future in any way I wished to was exhilarating. I knew I could make my life as big as I wanted, I could leave a mark. I began planning for my life as a bio-medical research scientist, as a lawyer for a civil rights firm maintaining justice in my community, even as the president of the United States. I was left intimidated by my own ambition but as I grew I realized the necessity of wanting to make an impact on the world. I realized that true changes can be made only once you believe they are possible. I came to accept these dreams of mine, as big as they were. Not once, however, have I lost sight of Panama. The tall palm trees that would stretch beyond my own imagination and the silvery feathers of the Harpy Eagle have always been key figures in a home that had been built in my mind at a very young age and had always continued to flourish.

 It is now 2013. Once again I am alone with my mother on a Sunday afternoon, we are sitting in silence when I look at her and say, “Mom, I will never forget Panama”, she looks at me with bright eyes and quietly thanks me.

— 13 hours ago with 2 notes

I’ve never wanted anything this badly in my life. This is honestly my last chance for higher education and I’m actually just sobbing hoping for good results. I’ve never invested myself so deeply into something and hope it is good enough. please let it be good enough. However, regardless of how today’s results turn out, I am proud of my application. I submitted the best works of my life and know I have portrayed myself as being the intelligent, socially aware, and diligent individual that I know myself to be. I have done all that I could and whether or not I receive the scholarship, I am proud. 

— 1 day ago with 2 notes
#please please please 

today i find out whether or not my college essay (that made almost everyone that read it cry) is worth $240,000 

— 1 day ago with 1 note
#fuck  #please  #questbridge 
coffeedirt:

American Horror Story: Freak Show “Monsters Among Us”

coffeedirt:

American Horror Story: Freak Show “Monsters Among Us”

(via spacebuns)

— 1 day ago with 11236 notes

caitlinflavurd:

susiethemoderator:

Lately, feminists like Annie Lennox, bell hooks and Emma Watson have taken issue with Beyoncé’s sexual openness. While trying to discredit Beyoncé as a feminist, they seem to have forgotten one of the most important parts of Chimamanda’s speech in ***Flawless.

"What does a lady dress like, exactly? And who decided what a lady looks like? What bearing should one’s clothing have on one’s identification as a feminist? This is exactly the kind of misogynist policing we’ve fought tooth and claw against for decades, and to level this line of “reasoning” at Beyoncé is not only antifeminist, it is despicable." (x)

We should also note that Black Women are perceived and fetishized as hyper sexual. Which is why mainstream feminists willingly call Miley Cyrus, Iggy Azalea, and Katy Perry revolutionary and in charge of their bodies meanwhile demonizing Rihanna, Nicki Minaj, and Beyonce.

“As I was watching [Beyonce’s visual album] I felt very conflicted. I felt her message felt very conflicted in the sense that on the one hand she is putting herself in a category of a feminist, but then the camera, it felt very male, such a male voyeuristic experience of her.”

Not even kind of shocked that Emma Watson said this. I had a feeling she didn’t really get a grip on feminism, and now I know she doesn’t. 

Women can have and celebrate their sexual identities without being objects for men.

Women can have and celebrate their sexual identities without being objects for men.

Women can have and celebrate their sexual identities without being objects for men.

And the fact that all Emma saw in the video was a woman acting/dressing/dancing a certain way to ultimately please a man, proves she has a long damn way to go. She hasn’t even retaught herself how to think and see women.

(Source: thequeenbey, via brokendildo)

— 1 day ago with 31648 notes