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  1. How Do You Like Them Apples?

    January 30, 2012 by Barb

    entry 2 640x480 How Do You Like Them Apples?

    It was the first time in a while where I recognized, I, too, could capture beauty in the world.

    I’ve put off writing a reflection of the last year and writing of any goals that I might have or want to see accomplished for no particular reason. Instead, there are many reasons as to why I haven’t been able to sit down and hammer this out – away in Hong Kong, busy with presentation, away in Brazil, having school start, etc. But I suppose the reason that resonates most clearly is that I wasn’t sure about the scope of what I would be reflecting upon.

    At first, I thought about discussing the past year in terms of recovery for my elongated depressive episode. When thinking about it, though, I realized that this recovery process that I was wanting touch upon, not only rooted itself in the initial signs of the major episode years ago (April 2009, to be most correct), but also in the poor management of my medication prescriptions that had incurred during sophomore year. And it was in realizing this added complication that, at this point, in particular, it was the repercussions that I was still working through – the general inefficacy of and mishandling of me as a patient and person. It goes to say that there was this topped-off layer to my bundle of issues that should never have been added in the first place. In layman’s terms: for someone who’s not too keen on desserts, an added layer of frosting can most certainly deter one from finishing the cake.

    Granted, there were the “bad days” in the past year, but they were not the core of my problems. I didn’t see myself struggle out of bed or stare mundanely at the wall; instead, I saw myself questioning what had happened to me, and justifying why I didn’t deserve the circumstances that were imposed upon me. I recanted the stories from the vivid memories that would not leave me so as to re-assess and make sure that I wasn’t living in a world of my own creation. And I re-integrated myself into the university community that I had never truly known so as to find a baseline to all of this. “This” is vague, and I can’t find a particular noun to affix it to, and I suppose it is best left that way.

    And as I say all of this, it begs the question about my academics. The story of my major episode began at the tail-end of freshman year and continued on through the summer with me struggling to leave my apartment. But somehow, I was still averaging an 3.7 GPA. And the decent grades continued on throughout my continued therapy sessions in New York, with A’s and A-’s for the most part. I say this with no mal-intent, but it was the ease in grading that had allowed me to skirt by in the second semester of sophomore year. As much as I would like to give myself credit for being a genius of sorts, I really can’t. Taking medication that I never adjusted to, I slept most of the day – nine to ten hours of sleep was topped off with naps and droopy eyelids in class and at my desk at both work and home. There was no real opportune time for me to churn out essays except for the few hours that I could be awake enough to read material and type. There was no working ahead because there is no concept of “future” when you’re in this haze of being medicated. In which case, it was easy to catch errors and flawed arguments in my summer courses when I had less time to “recuperate” between assignments.

    When asked about Paris (which was where my average took a big hit), I often tell those that ask that I was enduring the rigour of a whole major in two semesters, when students would take at least three years. In which case, I was confronted with a large learning curve, and hence my grades and their dramatic improvement. And for the most part, that was true. But there was always this aspect that i never touched upon, and that was I was distracted. I wasn’t distracted in the average sense of being on Facebook too much, or anything of that sort. Rather, I was pre-occupied with what what I mentioned above, asking the questions of what had happened in the year before and why. Nothing in that first semester back in Paris had my full attention. So it was as I wrote the stories, I began to possess more clarity, though there were tendencies in which I would fall back into a past of sorts – lost in memories of who I was and what had happened in past years.

    With all that said, I’ve come to these three realizations about the past year that I sum up here:

    1. Grown-ups make mistakes too. Part of the reason as to why I clung on the mistreatment of my depression was that I had put my faith in what I believed to be an “authority.” It was the disappointment that the go-to figures can make mistakes and not realize it. And while I had attributed the calamity of it all to one central person, I realized that, in flipping through the pages of my records, it was a system, created to prevent all that had happened, that had failed me when no one had remarked upon the inaccurate remarks made about me. Nothing is perfect, even in the most minute of communities.

    2. Forgiveness doesn’t come easily – for either party. The common saying that we learn as children is “forgive and forget,” but as we grow older, we realize that life isn’t as easy as wiping away a day’s worth of scribbles off a chalk board. To want to propose forgiveness is easy; the actual process of forgiving someone that has done wrong unto you is one that has no defined beginning or end. That said, forgiveness is also not simply a matter of it being “earned” by a person; the parameters for it are so many, yet so few. For the most part, I’ve moved on, but I cannot forgive the poor administration of medication that took myself away from me – at least not yet. The words are ready to leap out of my mouth but I want to be able to give the words actual meaning and weight.

    3. I’ve put my life back together. I’ve spent the last decade watching myself fall apart countless times, only to find myself patching band-aids on the wounds and function again for some time before steering myself toward another meltdown. It was only in college that someone hit the stop button on this pattern and directed me towards a more constructive path. In between, there were ups and downs – some of my own doing and some not – but during all of it, I was never at my best. My accomplishments were still good on all accounts but they were not my representative of me at my best. I’ve caught glimpses in all of this time of what is the best of me, but it’s really only been in these past few months that I’ve been able to better recognize myself and see more than just a snapshot.

      If we look at grades, this is the most consistent I’ve been. If we look at community, I’ve found myself happily working with different departments at the university. If we look at me, professionally, I may not have a financial-sector job lined up after graduation, but I have plans and don’t mind the detours on the road map. And if we look at me as a whole, this is the most I’ve ever enjoyed anything. I’ve taken back my life.

    Everyday won’t be peachy. Not everyone will be kind. Not every remark will be positive. That said, my one overarching goal for 2012 is to remember is that it does and will get better.

  2. Giving Back to the NYU Community

    October 25, 2011 by Barb

    popelini Giving Back to the NYU Community

    If only giving was always this tangible

    So if I’m not actually working, per say, what is it that I’ve been doing that has been keeping me as equally busy (apart from teasing out some kind of idea for my thesis, that is) for the past two months? The answer is simple and perhaps an unexpected one, especially coming from me – I’ve been doing my best at giving back to the NYU community.

    I can’t exactly say that I’m “giving back” in exact and precise terms what I’ve been able to take away from the university’s offerings, programs, and experiences; especially since what I’ve been able to gain has been so abstract, so to say. And perhaps it wasn’t even the university itself that lent to certain things; perhaps, in truth, it was simply the environment that allowed me to thrive. But that said, I do have this desire to make some kind of a difference or a contribution in my last year here; one that perhaps could run the gamut from impacting someone’s scholarship funds next year, to influencing someone’s decision to come to NYU, or even simply educating others on resources (all of which I have been doing).

    I know very well that the university isn’t perfect. I definitely would not be the first person to concede to that fact, nor would I be the last, but I do believe that we can push for and make changes that can go a long way, even if it is the most minute in contributions. There is something to be said about an aggregate effort that permits us to propel our community forward. I may not see or reap these forthcoming benefits, but that isn’t the point. What the point is, though, is to take what I’ve learned, and direct that in such a manner that future students don’t have, for instance, the same mishaps as I did, or do have the same access to opportunities and resources, if not more.

    And perhaps also for personal reasons, I do this because I want to feel some kind of a tie to the school. I’ve spent two years at the NYU France campus, and while that has been a great experience, I never really had the opportunity to connect with the “official” campus – the Washington Square campus.

    I didn’t feel as though clubs would provide me the same sense of connection as working on these university and departmental initiatives have and do. And in truth, I was set to only work on two this year, but another came up, and “by chance,” there have been small requests on the side. All of which makes me content at the end of the day.

    That said, you may be wondering in what ways am I giving back. It’s as follows:

    1. Live Well NYU. After everything that has transgressed, in the past two years especially, I find well being to be incredibly important to student life. Often, when we think of health, we think of mental health and physical ailments. There is so much more in that sphere of healthy living, and on a day-to-day level, that affects everyone – staff, students, and faculty. We just had our first all-committee meeting of the academic year, and it (the initiative) is certainly a right approach in preventative methods, and creating awareness of what it means to actually be “healthy.”

      Learn more at http://www.nyu.edu/life/safety-health-andwellness/live-well-nyu.html

    2. Peers in Career. Coming into university, I already had a fare knowledge on employment, internships, and everything of the like. And when it came to social media, I was one of the first ones to jump on the bandwagon to see what it was all about, in terms of personal and corporate branding. But that isn’t the case for everyone. There are so many kids are clueless, and I don’t mean it as a criticism, just as an observation. What I want, I suppose, is a means to convey what I know and share what I believe to be essential for students living in this city, with dozens of great internships at our disposal, and in this modern age.

      Learn more at http://www.nyu.edu/careerdevelopment/sites/peers/about.php
    3. 1831 Fund. This program certainly wasn’t on my radar until the first week of school, when I was asked if I would be interested based on the recommendation of Steinhardt’s Dean Patricia Carey. I did take interest in the initiative because of its nature; the 1831 Fund is a senior class project that aims to raise funds, which are to be distributed to incoming freshmen and transfer students as scholarships. Even though I don’t qualify for financial aid (on the basis that I am an international student), I’m well aware of how expensive the tuition is. And although the scholarships aren’t huge, they are an aid nonetheless.

      And in spite of the fact that many students upon graduation have debt and have resentment towards it, we have to realize that we were/are a part of this community. I’m not corralling people based on my desire to give back, but rather asking them to rethink that happy hour excursion and perhaps give a little for something that can go a long way. With that said, I currently lead and work on the social platforms (Twitter and Facebook, as of now) for the Fund.

      Learn more at https://www.nyu.edu/1831-fund

  3. Redefinition Through Writing

    October 3, 2011 by Barb

    toronto Redefinition Through Writing

    View of Toronto from a rooftop

    Last week, TedxToronto held their annual conference, with the theme being “redefinition.” I thought it would only be appropriate to contribute, in my own way, despite being remote, my thoughts and ideas on redefinition. My viewpoint on redefinition, though, is not one based on community, but rather on the personal level. And I suppose that greatly bases itself on the experiences that I’ve had, which in turn have shaped my understanding of the word.

    In discussing redefinition of the self, I point to the concepts of trauma and recovery. Granted, trauma is a very intimate subject and is one that has no clear lines in determining what is and what is not considered to be painful or marking. It goes to say that trauma is one’s own, and cannot be measured or judged by another. Overcoming this pain is difficult; and I contend that through expressing ourselves, and writing down our experiences that we can be permitted to and aided in moving on.

    I propose the idea of writing since it is the one point in which we confront our traumas with great intimacy – revisiting them, re-purposing the experience into our own words, and thus, in a sense, reclaiming what was lost. To contemplate each word that we pen (or type in this case) is an activity that requires great thought and care, since trauma is so personal to us – we want to communicate what we know to be the “truth.” Evoking empathy or feelings isn’t the goal; for if it were, we would write compelling and more flowery text, as opposed to confronting a memory that we have sought to shelve and repress.

    It is in this process of reclaiming, though, that we begin to own our memory, and not be owned by it.

    At the end of this cathartic experience, we come out different. We are not necessarily changed, but we are more relieved. The memory that we have sought to hide from is now properly archived, and no longer strongly extricated from our mind and living obsessively in our daily conscious.

    Whether or not we choose to share the experience is another point. We want to be altruistic and say that we confront our trauma publicly to help others – but is that really the case? For the most part, I would say so. But in some aspects, it is part of the redefining experience; being consciously aware that what you say becomes a part of the archive for others puts an onus on us to be more truthful to not only our readers, but also to ourselves. Instead of convincing ourselves of certain truths, we are forced to tell it as it had happened so as not to lead others astray (which of course comes back to the altruistic argument).

    With that said, it comes as no surprise that we see so many texts on traumatic experiences published – it is one way for the author to overcome what has happened in a “truthful” manner.

    To sum, redefinition, at least for me, is the reclaiming of one’s traumas through writing, which produces a candid (and sometimes slow) revisit in which we unveil the lies that we have told ourselves and instead, own not only the truth but our memory.

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