the ch!cktionary

    22 Sep 2009

    On Privilege & the Ivy League

    what a spoiled little life you lead. how DO you pay for all your globe trotting and partying? you must have rich parents or a sugar daddy. or maybe you moonlight in addition to your ‘writing career’? anyway, enjoy your life of privilege while it lasts. someday you may find yourself scrubbing floors or pots and pans or caring for the sick or elderly. life is not a beach, as the saying goes. -comment by joe
    The bottom line you Ivy league snob, is that you throw all of your globetrotting in the face of the 99% of readers who are less fortunate than your spoiled ass. Most college students are eating ramen noodles 5 nights a week, and living in a piece of shit apartment with second hand furninture you ungrateful twit. Maybe you should get some common sense. I can’t wait until you graduate and are unemployed. Maybe then you will learn some humility.comment by Satsuya

    I never cease to be amazed by the amount of vitriol spewed my way. Most of it is along the lines of “whore whore slut”, but occasionally, my blog also attracts bitter members of the underclass*. For example, I was heavily criticized last year when I chronicled the time I spent in Europe. Most of that summer was spent squatting in a dorm room where I shared a bed with my best friend (I was literally squatting, as in, I was not allowed to be there and did not pay rent, nor was my presence accounted for in any official way), and most of those nights, she slept on the floor in a sleeping bag. Glamorous it was not.

    But some of my more ignorant critics nonetheless view any traveling as jetsetting and Europe/anywhere outside of North America as some shiny place inaccessible to all but the wealthy. That’s just patently untrue. I don’t deny that Harvard offers certain advantages, such as well-connected friends who can offer free lodging or entertainment (see: my entire Ibiza trip). I know plenty of college students who eat ramen, live in small apartments, and are on full financial aid (like me) who also find affordable ways to travel and have fun, often on their school’s dime. Going abroad doesn’t automatically make a person overprivileged or mean that they come from money (or even if they do, it doesn’t mean they don’t pay for it on their own) just as going to an Ivy League school doesn’t automatically make me a snob. (And besides, what would be wrong with parents paying for vacations? I’d want to do that for my kids!)

    Do I think I have it better than most college students? Yes and no. I probably have it better than most college students whose mothers are hotel maids. But that’s only because the children of hotel maids don’t usually attend Harvard, an institution as valuable for its social network as it is for its education. If I’d gone to UC Berkeley, I probably wouldn’t receive invitations to the South of France, but maybe I would’ve been invited to Napa instead. That being said, it’s not as if every Harvard student has a recognizable last name and comes from a family who owns second or third homes (most don’t). Those who do are usually humble about it, or at least, they’ve been taught to not talk about it.

    Maybe instead of calling me spoiled, ungrateful, and lacking common sense, these commenters should be asking themselves why they’re so resentful. When I first got to Harvard, I very much felt like an odd girl out because of my background and I’ve always been acutely aware of the school’s air of privilege. I’m sure I know better than these guys what it’s like to be poor in the face of extreme wealth. But while I don’t doubt that there are plenty of douchebag Harvard alums stealing your jobs and girlfriends, I’m not one of them and it’s incredibly ignorant to assume that’s what every Ivy Leaguer is like.

    The fact that these commenters think it’s impossible for a Harvard student to come from a lower middle class background (i.e. less than $30,000/year for a family of three) just demonstrates how little they know about socioeconomic diversity here. Besides its diversity recruitment efforts, the school also attempts to make money a non-issue one students are on campus by randomizing the housing lottery (so that everyone has a shot at the most desirable dorms) and offering a single all-you-can-eat dining plan (so that everyone can eat as much as they want without having to worry about paying more for it). So sure, you could say that most students who came from a similar background to mine are probably “less fortunate” but that’s because most schools don’t make it a priority to create the illusion of class equality.

    I’m perfectly aware that Harvard offers certain privileges, but I’m not going to apologize for taking advantage of them.

    * I jest.

    20 Aug 2009

    “I went to the gym the other day and the only people there were models, club dancers, porn stars, and Bob Sinclair.”
    — Zac, on the daily going-ons of his life in Ibiza

    16 Aug 2009

    Ibiza

    It’s on!

    I managed to find a flight that wasn’t preposterously priced (danke shön, Air Berlin), so I’m leaving Thursday for four days of Spanish cuisine, nude beaches, and electronic music. Granted, none of the above justifies the purchase of a plane ticket on a freelance salary if not for the promise of one-on-one time with my friend Zac, my favorite American on this continent (excluding New York-born Hamlet, that is).

    Unfortunately, the doggie will not be brought to the island, so any and all photo shoots will have to proceed minus the bulldog (and the bikini?).

    26 Jul 2009

    Bon Voyage!

    Last night might’ve been my final night in Beacon Hill. I’m leaving for Europe in less than six hours with ze German and ze puppy dog. When we return in a month, we’re immediately evacuating the contents of the den to move to the Back Bay.

    Until then, I will be staying in northern Germany with Patrick’s family. Not surprisingly, I still have nothing concrete planned except for a couple nights in Salzburg (for my first opera!) and a week near the Italian border of Switzerland. There are a few other places I’d like to go, like Berlin, which I’ve never visited, and Ibiza, where my friend Zac is spending his third summer working for a VIP concierge service. (He just partied with Naomi Campbell and the prince of Saudi Arabia, because that’s apparently what one does in Ibiza.)

    My 22nd birthday is on August 13th and it appears thus far that it may be a two-person, one-canine celebration.

    I’m cool with that. And now, I’m off to pack! (Quite belatedly, I know.)

    17 Jun 2009

    “Make your site more Blackberry friendly! There must be entire legions of young professionals who, like me, are stuck with severely severely frozen phones when all they wanted was to see cute pictures of Hamlet and find out what you’ve had for brunch!”
    — actual email received from Zac (who’s thousands of miles away in Ibiza)

    17 Apr 2009

    Just bought tickets to this. A primer for an Ibiza sequel this summer?

    21 Jul 2008

    View from Zac’s house in Ibiza: just miles of nothing. For such a big tourism destination, the island does a remarkable job of preventing over-development.

    View from Zac’s house in Ibiza: just miles of nothing. For such a big tourism destination, the island does a remarkable job of preventing over-development.

    16 Jul 2008

    “When you love someone, you do not love them all the time in exactly the same way, from moment to moment. It is an impossibility. It is even a lie to pretend to. And yet, this is exactly what most of us demand. We have so little faith in the ebb and flow of life, of love, of relationships. We leap at the flow of time and resist in terror its ebb. We are afraid it will never return. We insist on permanency, on duration, on continuity; when the only continuity possible in life, as in love, is in growth, in fluidity in freedom. The only real security is not owning or possessing, not in demanding or expecting, not in hoping, even. Security in a relationship lies neither in looking back to what it was, nor forward to what it might be, but living in the present and accepting it as it is now. For relationships, too, must be like islands. One must accept them for what they are here and now, within their limits islands surrounded and interrupted by the sea, continuously visited and abandoned by the tides. Once must accept the serenity of the winged life, ebb and flow, of intermittency.”
    — Anne Morrow Lindbergh (via juliaallison)

    I need to chill out. Despite the glamour of Ibiza, I succumbed to a serious emotional relapse. Monday night: crying quietly on the terrace at Pacha followed by uncontrollable sobbing in the parking lot of Amnesia. Basically, two of the most incredible clubs on this most incredible island and I was too emotionally distressed to have a good time. Luckily, last night was a huge improvement.

    12 Jul 2008

    So… España?

    I was vaguely considering going to Spain next week, and by “vaguely considering”, I mean that I was pretty sure I was going until I came back from London on Thursday and became incredibly depressed and tired and unwilling to travel. BUT it appears as if there’s actually a flight I can afford (thanks Germanwings!) and now I’m *this close* to booking a plane to Ibiza for tomorrow.

    Last-minute, much? I haven’t even unpacked fully from London. My friend Zac is in Ibiza though, and I miss him badly. Kennedy is the only close friend I’ve seen in six weeks. SIX WEEKS. I love the girl to death, but seriously, I think I’m going crazy from isolation. Crying everyday for the rest of my time in Heidelberg is a pathetic but very realistic possibility at this point. This needs to be avoided at all costs.

    Anyway, I suppose even the worst case Ibiza scenario would still involve me on a beach. That doesn’t sound too shabby at all.

    3 Mar 2008

    Language Acquisition

    It just occurred to me that I probably need to learn basic German if I’m going to spend three weeks in Heidelberg. Fuck.

    People will speak English, no doubt, but I’ll probably feel really alienated and lost if I have absolutely no idea what’s going on around me. And Kennedy’s going to be spewing German left and right too. This is less of a problem in party-happy Ibiza, tourist-friendly Paris, or English-speaking … England.

    For the record, I am a bilingual speaker (fluent in Cantonese, less so in Mandarin). Spanish and I were NOT friends in high school. Or college.