aspiring beam of light

this is the documentation of a four-year experiment commonly known as college.

[apomietlo-blog]

things i’m interested in right now:

*french 75s

*free-form fruit tarts

*a new camera

*either persuasion by jane austen, or far from the madding crowd by thomas hardy, or moby dick by herman melville

(that’s all for now)

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hello

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6/15/17// “WHAT I LEARNED FRESHMAN YEAR”

We have to run towards God with all our might, and not look back. just run as hard and fast as you can with no thought to how ridiculous you might look because you weren’t in cross or track in high school and you don’t have a runner’s form and the mile in gym was the worst day of the year for you. let go of what the world thinks—actually let’s pause here for a minute. (like we’re still running but mentally we have paused to consider something else for a second).

in order to do this we have to think about the word “cool”—what the heck does that even mean? i have considered this one a lot this year and here’s what i’ve come up with:

cool literally deals with temperature—it’s not too hot, more on the cold side—pretty comfortable, generally speaking (as we are). i think that this quasi-definition applies to the word in popular culture. from my experience, if someone is deemed cool, it’s because they are the type of person that doesn’t get too worked up about anything in particular. they are also aptly described with the word “chill”. these people sit back and people-watch in their carefully selected outfits, though you’d never guess it, which they have designed to look like they’re not trying too hard while yet succeeding in looking put together in an unkempt sort of way. that’s a pretty specific instance of “cool” but i think a more concrete image will help us see that we are on the same page, or perhaps just in the same chapter. either way. to be cool is to be unaffected—which seems pretty okay. why let life get you too worked up? stress causes illness. there is nothing wrong with desiring a lasting peace. in fact, there is everything right with that desire. the danger in subscribing to the “culture of coolness” is in belittling those who do get worked up. those who have passion. if we belittle passion, and zealousness, and fire, we subscribe to apathy and aloofness and disillusionment. i sat in a lecture on our genes once, it was fascinating. the man speaking on the topic was obviously pretty pumped about genes and it made you want to listen. there was a student in the audience, eccentric and a little odd, nodding furiously to everything the professor said. i couldn’t help but notice—he made verbal affirmations every few seconds—and felt slightly embarrassed for him. i watched as a group of students behind him laughed as they shared snide remarks and scornful looks, as if he were a pathetic child fawning over a butterfly. this passionate individual ended up being one of two named in his class’s commencement address as one of the kindest, most beautiful people anyone had ever met. we are all under the influence of the culture of cool—that embarrassment i felt was a symptom of the disease. and the joke of it all is that it tries to come off as if it doesn’t care about what the world thinks. (to steal a line from clueless: “As, IF.”) the “cool” people? they care more than probably anybody else. but not about something like the study of DNA or Jesus Christ or horseback riding. they care about what other people think about them. let me tell you, this is the last thing you want to be thinking about. i’m not saying here that you should go out and say “screw you world! screw political correctness! screw tact!” i’m saying that the opinion of men is never going to get you back to certain knowledge of the truth. you should definitely take into account how your actions affect your fellow men, but another person’s opinion of you should never be what you base your worth on. easier said than done. subscribing to the culture of cool is the easy way out honestly. it is safe. and there’s the problem, we are not called to play it safe. we are called to be daring for Christ. we are called to be bold and courageous and self-sacrificing. We are to sacrifice the self. to put to death the self. what better way to do this than to forsake reputation, so carefully crafted for the sake of being “cool”. i will go so far to say that the desire to be cool is the direct opposite of the desire to be holy. oh dang did i just say that? why yes i did. i believe it’s true—you don’t have to, but i think if we do a bit of soul-searching as a culture it might start to make more sense. holiness is becoming more like the Father. we do this through the imitation of Christ. God the Father in the person of Jesus Christ put to death his self in the most literal way possible: he died. he died the ignominious death that was crucifixion, as if he were a common thief rather than the Son of the Most High God. he humbled himself, lower than angels for a little while, and fully took on the nature of his creatures while remaining God (an incredible mystery of which we hope one day to be granted an understanding). he was the opposite of apathetic, aloof, disillusioned. Jesus was zealous—he threw to the wind human opinion. The Son of Man was the friend of tax collectors and prostitutes—the scum of the earth in the eyes of the Pharisees and probably common people too. He chose manual laborers as his apostles—men without educations. he flipped over a table in a synagogue. what i’m trying to say is that Jesus was (and is) a plethora of things—gentle, loving, merciful, passionate, a leader—but he definitely wasn’t cool by today’s standards. and thank goodness for that. the culture of cool wants to see the end of passion because the only people who can change the world are the ones with passion, and cool supports the status quo. it wants change but insofar as that means the degradation of society and the total corruption of any sort of morals. it wants to put to death holiness, just as it put to death the creator and savior of the world. “be cool man” no, man. i don’t think so. i’m striving for holiness.

okay so i just ranted for a good deal on “cool”, a single word used pretty haphazardly in the world today. why? because i wanted us (the metaphorical, all-inclusive “us”) to realize that letting go of what the world thinks means letting go of the desire to be cool. and if there is one thing i’ve learned from aristotle, it’s that you have simply got to define your terms.

so to continue: run fast and hard towards God without giving a thought to what the world thinks about it. we often forget, daily really, that the end goal is not a specific human relationship or a beautiful house or a stellar career. it’s God. He is the only end goal. it’s tempting to look around while we’re running because maybe we’re bored, but it is then that we lose sight of the ultimate goal, sainthood.

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so good good good!

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jr. year

[ihavefinishedtherace]

freshman year was:

mexican food, santa ana winds, snails everywhere, megaphones and trespassing on private property, coffee ice cream and kix kix kix. waiting up until midnight for cereal spoons that were sharper than knives air horns in the library and running across freshly planted grass. whose that singing to kate’s and would the serran’s please stop singing the national anthem. basketball games and soccer games and frisbee games and one rugby game. “let’s get good at tennis” QED, namely, per se, qua, insofar as, moving from the particular to the universal, etc. chestnut bombs and wagon wheel, aerials and airplanes and i don’t trust you on the concrete. skinned knees and torn up feet and sprained ankles. mints mints mints mints. 

this girl is on fire halo shut up and dance with me fred astaire we should just stay up till 5. skirts and racer backs and birkenstocks day in day out. rincon? yes. in-n-out? yes. strawberry licorice and vons every other night, garden market and tlaquepaque and rabalais. (beignets yes) singing in public and screaming down the 126. 

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two years ago.

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love, what else

I think I always thought that it’d come to me in a pretty little package, tied up with a pretty little bow. 

(brown paper packages tied up with string)

but that definitely has not been the case. 

it’s been messy. it’s been confusing. sometimes i’ve wondered what the point is.

and i think i realize now, that i really have a problem in that i approach this as if each conversation with a male were an interview for future spouse. as if a date was a now-or-never opportunity for everlasting happiness. why don’t i just let love be what it truly is–an adventure? a crazy, beautiful, sometimes scary escapade into the unknown, with the Lord at my helm, guiding it all. 

i feel like we only hear the notes that we think are off-key–oh that was too sharp, that flat was a doozy–and what we don’t realize is that a totally unique, incredible symphony is being composed for us where those particular notes are completely necessary and only add to the beauty of the finished project. 

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something I wrote during sophomore year of college, aka the dark days. just kidding. but those days did afford me some writing material in the genre of “angsty romance”.

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5/18/15

[realized I actually do have one other post, from right after finals second semester freshman year; cool to look back on something you’d forgotten about and re-experience some of that emotion]

And just like that, it’s over.

The first year of college came and went much too fast.

Unfortunately I was unable to access this blog while at school, so all of my ups and downs are documented in various other places--notebooks, Euclid books, and a document titled “unbelievablyunreadablebyyou”.

I’m blown away by what I have just experienced.

[apomietlo-blog]

6/11/17

So this is kind of a funny story. 

I started up this blog--one of many, many blogs I have began and all too quickly abandoned like the countless diary/journal-attempts taking up valuable drawer-space in my room--to document my freshman year of college in sunny Southern California. And then I quit after just one post. 

Seems weird?

Yes probably, but then again not if you know me and my tendency to procrastinate and get started on way too many projects at once. 

Anyway, not the point. This time around it wasn’t procrastination. It was the website blocker my campus has on Tumblr. Yep, no Tumblr for Alexis at college. “Why no tumblr?! Thou canst be serious!” you may exclaim, and why in old English is as much of a mystery to me as to you. Well that would be because of a very particular set of skills, I mean, rules (sorry, that Liam Neeson bit never ceases to entertain me) varying from a dress code during class time, lectures, dances, and so forth to not being allowed to watch movies in your room ever (hence why its taken me so incredibly long to get through Gilmore Girls) that my college has in place. 

In today's age, one would hear something like this and gasp in horror, and hey, I haven’t even told you how we can’t use our cellular data for instagram or pinterest. (Really, we’re modern day saints over here.) And as an incoming freshman, three years ago (refer to date of last post), it was a bit startling for me as well. But I adjusted, and truth be told, I am thankful for our crazy sounding guidelines. 

The reason for my gratitude lies in this: if you walk on to the campus of Thomas Aquinas College, you will see the faces of 18, 19, 20, 21, 22 etc. year-olds, not scarily close to the screen of a wallet-sized device, but focused on a friend, a mentor, maybe on a book, but most probably on you because you are a visitor and we’re small so we notice new people. The vast majority of campus is not bunkered down with ramen in their room watching the latest episode of Stranger Things at two pm--they’re experiencing something, be it the stress of one of Sir Issac Newton’s propositions in the Principia, a thought-provoking conversation, a therapeutic run, or maybe a nap. 

All of us students wrote five essays during the application process to TAC. One of these was concerning our understanding of the college’s rules of residency, and how they are connected to the curriculum we wish to study. It came down to this, at least for me as I was slaving over, I mean writing, this essay: I want to attend college to become a better person. A more well-rounded, educated, curious person. That means giving myself to my studies and the people surrounding me, who also care about the questions we’re pursuing. Netflix, instagram, and staying out till all hours of the night should definitely come second--or even fifteenth--to that. 

And so I adhere to the sometimes crazy feeling restrictions--the guidelines that we all honestly need in college, but at the vast majority of schools do not get. Most of the time we have to be saved from ourselves, our destructive behaviors that prevent us from truly being free. Freedom from any rules or regulations whatsoever is not true freedom. We often create our own chains in turn. So to have an administration that is looking out for our well-being, namely in helping us to focus on our studies and respect one another as students, is really a blessing. Gilmore Girls will be waiting either way.  

So, going back to the source of this rant, Tumblr is blocked. I can’t use my phone to access it outside of the walls of our library. But that’s okay. Because I’ve spent a lot of time the past three years of college making fabulous friends and memories all over the coast of glorious California. Returning to this blog now, I feel like I can reflect over the undocumented years as I embark on my last (*bitter tears*) academic year at TAC with fresh eyes and nimble fingers, God-willing. 

au revoir for now!

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08/12/14

The biggest day of my newly adult life is nine days away, also known as, "The Day I Move 2,054 Miles Away From Home". This is by far the most radical thing I have ever even dreamt of doing, and believe me, I did not dream this one up. This one is all on God. Seriously.

The first question I am asked by everyone from my grandmother to strangers whom my mother has struck up a friendly conversation with is: How did you find Thomas Aquinas? 

Honestly, I want to tell them, it found me. 

Here's the honest-to-God story of how I ended up at a teensy, tiny Roman Catholic liberal arts college in the middle of California. 

When I was a kid (even more of a kid than I am now) if you would have asked me what I was afraid of I would have told you this: dying, little animals that squeak, and college. Seems normal, right? College scared me because it involved things I had no understanding of (loans?) and required one to move away from their home. So, like any average fifth grader, I decided I would conquer this fear by researching every possible detail of this college thing and plan out the next eleven years of my life down to the minute. (Seriously--I had the 411 on every fashion school in NYC and even looked up the average cost of monthly rent in various neighborhoods.) 

I was the anomaly in middle school, keeping a list of favorite universities in my important documents folder. I'd be comparing cost of housing and meal plan options, and always always always looking for the most idealistic campus possible. By the wise old-age of fourteen I was certain that I wanted to attend a Catholic college with a beautiful campus that offered a major in English. 

I announced this at a Thanksgiving dinner, naming the University of Dallas as my chosen school. I had happened upon it through a life-changing book called The Newman Guide to Choosing a Catholic College. It contained a list of truly Catholic schools, not just in name but by the way of life and manner of studies offered. UD, as it was nicknamed, seemed to me the perfect place to settle down for four years of studying and creating life-long bonds. If you had asked me why this one and not the others, however, I do believe my answer would have been less than convincing. Anyhow, I stuck with this as my school for three years, into my sophomore year of high school. But something strange occurred at the end of that next summer--a seed of doubt appeared out of thin air and forced me to question, "Why UD?" and also consider culinary school. (Interesting, I know.)

And so followed a mini-crisis that my fifth grade self has always feared--where am I going to go to college!? 

I reverted back to an old dream during the first semester of junior year and that was cosmetic school. I figured I could venture off to the City That Never Sleeps and start a portfolio and attend some prestigious trade school that would rocket me off to a life in the fast lane of fashion. (Once again, quite interesting, I am aware.)

But the Lord hit me over the head with a video featuring Leah Darrow, who if you've never heard of should definitely look up. She was a cradle Catholic who got sucked into the way of the world by avenue of America's Next Top Model. After her run on the popular show, she found herself lost in an immoral world of modeling and high fashion that had no time for God. An amazing re-conversion story follows, but what I really took to heart was the fact that this world of glamour and haute couture that I was so interested in had nothing to do with the God I loved so much. 

Enter Thomas Aquinas College. 

I went back to the metaphorical drawing board that was the Newman Guide. I had combed through almost all of it's twenty colleges, comparing them using the Newman Guide's website. There were two, however, that I had skipped due to the distance from my home. Thomas Aquinas College and John Paul the Great Catholic University. 

TAC's featured picture was prettier so I looked into it first, and can honestly say, I have never looked back. There's something to be said for good presentation, really.

I soon discovered the College's summer program for rising seniors (which I would be attending that coming summer, go figure. God, a sneaky fellow) and applied immediately. I was accepted a month or so later, saved quite a bit of money, and flew into LAX three months later. The two weeks spent at TAC exceeded every expectation I had conjured up, and the rest is about to become history.

That's it. That is how I have ended up thousands of miles from home, in a state mostly foreign to me, soon to be surrounded by stacks of books that I will have had to have read. I could not be happier.

God has lead me to Thomas Aquinas College. He has never failed me before, and He's not about to start. I have faith and confidence that my journey has been mapped out for me before I was born, and this is the first step. I hope and pray that you will join me by tuning in and sharing in the joy that is my first year at TAC! 

God bless, much love, xx

Alexis

shot of lower campus.