Adulting

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So adulting is hard. It’s not what you imagine when you’re a little kid. Yes, you are able to stay up late and you don’t have to listen to mom and dad. Yes, you can eat whatever you want, but with that also comes having to buy your own groceries – because guess what? If you don’t buy those groceries, you won’t have any food to eat. If you don’t do that dirty laundry, you won’t have any clean clothes. If you don’t set your alarm clock the night before, you will most definitely sleep through your 8am class (luckily that hasn’t happened to me yet, just my roommate, every Monday and Friday.)

There are so many things that I used to take for granted when I lived at home – there was always food, cleaning supplies, and cold medicine, and everything was just at my fingertips. Now that I’m living on my own I realize how truly lucky I was. So, thanks mom and dad.

I’m three weeks into college (when this was written) and I’m incredibly sick. And no I don’t mean homesick, which is surprising since I’m living in Massachusetts, across the country from California. But the kind of sick I mean is high fevers, throwing up, stuffy nose, headache, dizziness and cough, also known as a chest virus, also known as the flu. And it sucks. Trying to navigate through two different busses to get to class while making it to work on time and rushing back for soccer practice is enough to handle, and then to add being sick on top it is far from fun.

Sickness Creates ProblemsAnd to those who are about to go off to college, let me tell you, the first time that you get sick away from home is terrible. It might not seem like a big deal but when all you want to do is lay in your own bed but you can’t because it’s 3,112 miles away, it becomes a big deal.Well Hello, Sickness

So today, after not really being able to breathe for about a week, I finally went to the health center. I only got lost in the building about three times before I finally found the student health center. After my appointment, I was prescribed some medications that would help. Of course these were insanely expensive, and as a college student that’s an issue.

I can’t wait until next month when I have to pay my credit card bill.

Never fear though, while it might seem like I’m hating life right now, I’m not. Even though my family is far away and I low-key can’t really breath or taste anything, I have another family taking care of me right here. My teammates and friends are constantly checking on me and bring me tea and saltines, the perfect (cheap) get-well combination.

Drug Me America

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Have a headache? Here’s your daily dose of Motrin. Bad anxiety? Here’s some Xanax. Depression? Sinequan. Chronic pain? Oxycodone. Name a problem, and there’s a chemical cocktail waiting for you on some shelf somewhere.

This isn’t about disregarding the benefit that pharmaceuticals have had on people of all ages and backgrounds. Rather, it’s about shedding light on the evils of prescription drugs, and how we need to face this arising problem.

Nevertheless, pharmaceuticals have given the dying a fighting chance, helping many to overcome problems with anxiety, depression, or chronic pain, and even allowing the elderly to live a comfortable life.

Still, despite all this good, there is a downside. That downside is blatant fraud, loopholes, and a competitive market that, in many instances, has been hijacked. That combined with the fact there’s an epidemic of over-prescribed prescriptions running awry in the United States leaves a bad taste in the country.

To give perspective to how large the pharmaceutical market is, the average American spends $1,000 per year on pharmaceuticals, and seven out of 10 Americans are on at least one prescription. That is 70% of 325 million people, which, multiplied by 1,000 equals 227.5 billion dollars in annual revenue by Big Pharma JUST in the U.S.

This enormous market thrives on the United States’ shortage of price regulations and the unhealthy American lifestyle, which includes overeating, little exercise, and hours of anxiety-provoking work – for which pills then have to be the replacement.

Antibiotics make up 17% of all prescriptions, followed by anti-depressants (13%) and then highly addictive opioids (13%).

Once again, it is important to emphasize the importance of pharmaceuticals. Usually, common chronic issues like obesity would heavily affect the average life expectancy. However, the U.S. ranks 26 in life expectancy at an average of 80.1 years, possibly thanks to high rates of diagnoses.

With good new including the increasing life expectancy, there must also be bad news. As Americans’ use of pharmaceutical drugs has increased, so has drug abuse.

Prescriptions are being given out constantly –  67.2% of office physicians give out prescriptions, amassing to 2.3 billion drugs being provided/ordered. These tend to be the heavier, more dangerous drugs (like opioids) that doctors must order directly.

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Over-prescribing has become somewhat common, even when doctors use their best judgement. Doctors have little time to spend with patients, and many patients have been exposed to ads influencing them to request prescriptions from their doctors.

The abuse of prescriptions drugs isn’t a new phenomenon. However, the extent to which prescription drugs are being used is now becoming wider known. Also, the amount that is actually being reported might just be the tip of the iceberg.

For example, more people die from overdosing on prescription drugs than overdosing on all other illicit drugs combined.

That is absolutely insane, considering the war on drugs. Yes, the war on drugs is an attempt to curve the rise of crime rates that come hand-in-hand with illicit drugs, but it is also an attempt to stop the death of addicts. It’s as if the U.S. government sees the problem of legal drug abuse as perfectly fine to ignore as long as they get to heavily tax the billion-dollar market.

In 2008, 20% of Americans abused prescription drugs. Because this was a report from over seven years ago, it is likely that those statistics have gone up significantly, and have possibly even doubled.

Attempts by the U.S. federal government to curve this epidemic have been laughable. Only 1/10 citizens who are abusing prescriptions have being treated across the country.

Yes, there has been an increase of funding for prescription drugs in an attempt to fight the epidemic, but the effort was small and useless compared to the problem itself.

What statistics would persuade the U.S. to largely fund treatment for prescription abusers and safety belts to prevent so many deaths.

For instance, drug overdoses outnumber car accidents in 29 states. The U.S. made the law requiring a seatbelt illegal for people’s benefit. Yet today we still see a fairly weak safety belt around prescriptions, even though the deaths tied to them are only increasing. That doesn’t really make sense.

And still nothing has changed.

“A Series of Unfortunate Events”

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Based on the horribly juxtaposed 13 book children’s series, Lemony Snicket’s A series of Unfortunate Events is back on the screen.

After an adaptation starring the ever bold and physical comedian Jim Carey, there was something missing – a certain element of discomfort that made your skin crawl. Long-time and new fans alike are excited to see the whimsical and dark series come to life in ways the movie didn’t.

Thanks to Netflix, 13 years after the movie, fans left wanting more are treated yet again to the world of the Baudelaire Orphans.

Photo Credit: Flickering Myth

Netflix is a growing empire, what with its ever-increasing show and movie collection complete with the little red Netflix stamp in the corner. But none of its other series’ are nearly as daring as Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events. Clocking in above The Crown as Netflix’s most expensive show to date, and aimed to appeal to every major viewing group, A Series of Unfortunate Events had to jump through all the hoops and stick the landing.

And stick the landing it has, masterfully translating a rich and vivid book series to the big screen.

With Daniel Handler (or better known to A Series of Unfortunate Events fans as none other than the Lemony Snicket) writing for the first two episodes detailing the first book, the show was off to a strong start.

The filming, dialogue and acting perfectly reflect the original material in ways that are often lost in book-to-screen translations. The actual visual and audio result is a style that is resonant with Wes Anderson’s later works like The Grand Budapest Hotel, Moonrise Kingdom and even Fantastic Mr. Fox, with vivid colors, sharp dialogue, specific score, and subtle etchings of humor in small, seemingly insignificant places that make all the difference.

Sticking pretty closely to the original books, the Netflix series has only upward to look. Having only covered four books of 13, and with the introduction of a secret organization only hinted at in the books, the show will undoubtedly grow in complexity and content as the series goes on.

“Fences”

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Today I watched a movie called Fences with my English class. The movie is about an African-American family. The main characters are: an alcoholic, an old-fashioned father, a housewife, and their sons – one who wants to be a football player, and one who has a job related to music. The father is a stubborn character who wants his son to learn how to “survive” rather than play football.

This movie takes place after the segregation and discrimination against colored people was abolished, and when white and colored people became one nation. Time Changes by Rose Maxton tells us that the pain and the wounds in our hearts are healed as the time changes. Since tomorrow is Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, I feel the need to recognize this tragedy in our history. I am glad that in my generation I can go to school and socialize with colored people. Because there were many abolitionists who worked hard for us to be equal, I can live in this great generation.

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Here for the Right Reasons

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It’s a well-known fact that the general population dislikes Mondays. I, on the other hand, can’t wait for Mondays. Why? Because it’s Bachelor season!

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Photo Credit: ABC.com

Yes, I am a fan of reality TV. Whether it be the dramatic Keeping Up with the Kardashians or a suspenseful finale of a dating show, you can find me on my couch, tuning in. I don’t understand why these shows (or the people on them) get so much hate. Reality TV is just as entertaining as other shows, yet few people say how much they enjoy them in fear of being ridiculed.

These shows aren’t enjoyed by a few, in fact, they’re quite popular. The Bachelor is on its 21st season, while its spin-off, The Bachelorette, is on season 12. Keeping Up with the Kardashians has been on the air for a decade. The Real Housewives has nearly ten spinoff shows. If there are this many seasons, spinoffs, and turns, then these shows aren’t pointless.

Most dislike the genre because the scenes are “fake.” However, what other shows have staged scenes? Oh yeah, all of them. Of course, not every day can be full of one dramatic moment after the other. Producers prompt the people to make certain activities seem more theatrical. Also, interviews can be used out of context or cropped to change the meaning of what the cast member is trying to convey. This shouldn’t discredit a show, because all shows have to have some theater in them or else they’re just plain life.

I understand why some people don’t like reality TV. It’s loud, dramatic, and extravagant. Some depict unrealistic lives or unrealistic people. However, these shows at their simplest are entertaining. And I, for one, love every single sensational, stirring minute.

Meryl Makes Waves at Golden Globes

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Last Sunday, January the 8th, the Golden Globes award show was broadcasted to millions of people. Hundreds of paparazzi, celebrities, and their handlers showed up for this event. While the main point of the show is to award actors, directors, and other people involved in making movies, Meryl Streep’s acceptance speech stole the show.

When Streep went up to the stage to collect her Cecil B. Demille award, her acceptance speech calling out President-elect Donald Trump got everyone’s attention. Streep voiced her disappointment and outrage in our soon-to-be president. “It was that moment when the person asking to sit in the most respected seat in our country imitated a disabled reporter,” Streep said. “It kind of broke my heart when I saw it, and I still can’t get it out of my head, because it wasn’t in a movie. It was real life.”

During Streep’s speech, the cameras panned to the other actors sitting in the audience, wearing looks of admiration, sadness, and agreement on their face. The New York Times and countless other media outlets reported on the speech, and Trump commented on it via Twitter.

Photo Credit: Elite Daily

But really, all his tweet does is give more credibility to Streep’s criticism. Should the eventual leader of the free world be spending his time calling out all criticisms against him via Twitter, or calling one of the most famous actresses in the world “overrated” for voicing her opinion? Should he be denying actions that he did, in fact, commit?

Where am I from? Where do I belong?

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I am an international student who has learned the ways of three different cultures. The country where I born doesn’t match my passport. My ancestors came from China, but World War II tore them away from their homeland and brought them to the island of Taiwan. The culture there changed as time went on, and Chinese and Taiwanese people have grown more and more different. Some may say that the Taiwanese and Chinese cultures have no difference, but that isn’t true to me.

When I was little I was taught two languages and was told that I was Taiwanese, and then in school I spoke English. And everyone in my family holds a Canadian passport.

People often ask me if I know where I am from, and I normally tell them that I am Taiwanese but hold a Canadian passport. The truth is that I have no idea where I am from or where I belong, or which country I should love and call home.

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I Am The Grinch

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As the world approaches the holidays, no matter where I go, all I hear is Christmas music.

I really dislike Christmas music.

Ergo, I guess I’m a bit of a Grinch.

There’s just something that is so painfully cheesy and overall too varnished about the music released during Christmas time.

I don’t understand how or why Christmas has become an even more Hallmarked holiday for romance than Valentines Day.

I am very accepting of the concepts of caring and giving that provide the foundation for Christmas, but there’s something about the influx of songs talking about finding true love due to Christmas Magic that really does not sit well with me.

Maybe it’s because I actually am Scrooge, but maybe not. I’m not sure.

Or maybe it’s the fact that I subconsciously believe most things meant to be cute and sweet are extraneous.

Which, upon further reflection, basically means I am the Grinch all year round.

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Cry Me a River, Or Don’t

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I don’t cry often, or at least not as much as people assume I do.

Before I turned nine, my tears had no depth. I would cry because I couldn’t get the Barbie I wanted, or because I wasn’t allowed to eat the chocolate bar I craved. It was like I was standing on the shore, only to get my chubby feet wet. They would be salty tears of defiance, and yet, they were noticed more. No one ignores a little, pig-tailed girl with puffy, wet eyes and a solemn face. People would rush to my side to be my hero and save me from my sadness.

In the summer before my fourth grade year, I truly cried for the first time. I was curled in bed and the breeze made the leaves on the tree in my backyard hit against the window with a soft thump. A mountain of blankets weighed down on my crackling shell of a body. My mom was angry at me, and I was convinced that she undeniably hated me. Even though that wasn’t the case, my cheeks seemed tattooed with the streaks left behind from my crying fit, and they stayed like that until the morning.

Only after that night, did I realize that I can only sincerely cry alone and wrapped in many blankets. It’s an odd revelation, but one that I will testify to for the rest of my life.

When I sat in the first row at my mother’s funeral, I was the most anxious I had ever felt in my entire life. I felt like her closest family and friends were watching me like beady-eyed hawks. My legs were neatly crossed and my black, lace dress itched in ten different places. I tried to focus on my aunts and uncles speaking about their beloved sister, but could only think about the choir show I was missing. My attention only perked up when my sister went to speak.

She stood with her right foot tilted ever so slightly inward. You couldn’t see it because of the podium in front of her, but throughout my entire life she had done it whenever she was nervous. She greeted everyone with a half-smile and red eyes, and you could tell that she was trying to make my mother proud. My grandma was holding onto my skinny wrist like it was a treasured jewel. I looked down at her black shoes and fixated on the curvature at the front. Then I heard my name. My sister had water welling up in her eyes and looked to me to turn the attention away from her. I wiggled out of my grandmother’s grasp and walked reluctantly to the stand.

“Um, I miss my mom. Not a day goes by where I don’t miss her and I loved- uh, I mean love her always and for-” my voice cracked.

All of a sudden, tears gushed out of my eyes as if someone turned on a hose. I ran away from the microphone and sunk into my seat, and wished I could evaporate. Those tears weren’t of evident sadness, but rather were a scapegoat to leave the gaze of all those gloomy visages. After that moment, I wasn’t sad but embarrassed. It is such a normal thing to cry at a funeral, especially the funeral of a parent, but it was one of the most fake and shallow outbursts of emotion I have ever experienced.

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After that, I couldn’t cry for months. My body was no longer capable of that type of emotional release. Whenever I do cry, it is of exasperation. A way to rid myself of pent-up frustration.

Some say that teenage girls cry about everything. When we break a nail or have a split end, it is as if the world is falling apart. Even when the world is crumbling around me, I pretend that I’m standing in a field of daisies, a defense mechanism I’ve created for dealing with my emotions in public.

And with all that said, people still think I cry all the time. But I guess that’s just what a girl’s gotta do.

Finals got you down?

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Here are ten ways to cope with your impending doom!

1.) Dig a hole. I mean, a really deep hole. Once you have dug said hole, lay in it. I’m not telling you to die there or anything, that’s entirely optional. If you need some motivation, think about your math final, and how you have literally never taken any notes at all.

(Click here for more info. on digging a proper grave.)

2.) Scream really, really loudly. Freak out your neighbors. Go ahead. You know you hate them. Do you even know their names? Of course not.

3.) Lay on the floor for a little bit and relive every embarrassing thing you’ve ever done. Come on. You know you want to. (At least more than you want to worry about finals.)

4.) Take a shower and maybe lay on the floor for a little bit. Might as well.

5.) Draw a chalk box on the concrete and sit in it. Everything around you is lava, except what’s inside that box. Don’t believe me? Your finals are located outside of that box.

6.) Get in a fight with someone who cares about you. It will 100% take away all focus from your finals. Unless you are really underprepared, like yours truly, in which case there is no hope.

7.) Go for a run. Plan to run to the nearby Starbucks. Run further. Run too far. Run way too far. Let the sun set, go somewhere creepy, and wait to be kidnapped. Foolproof. You think being kidnapped is too scary? FINALS.

8.) Do you have any allergies? Now is the time to thank whatever forces blessed you with them. Allergic to cats? Go lick one. Hug it. Rub it on your face. Peanut butter? Really dig into a nice jar of Jif and thank me later.

9.) Find a trustworthy friend, and kindly ask them to push you down some stairs.  If they are skeptical, here is a note from a trustworthy source (me) on why this is a good idea:

Dear friend, don’t hold back. It’s for their own good. Don’t believe me? Check their notes. Yes, that is a sketch of Justin Bieber pre-Gomez. No, there are no notes on the Aeneid in there. Keep looking, I promise.

10.) Or you could, like, study or something.

F.I.N.A.L.S.
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