image

Overwhelmed. Exhausted. Empty.

That’s honestly how I’ve been feeling these past few days.

Working part-time on campus and full-time as a college student, I’m doing everything I can to wrap up my undergraduate career. That being said, I have so much respect for my peers and fellow students who take on a job (if not another one), actively engage in campus groups, AND keep up with their studies. How frustrating that students are forced to put themselves in a position to work when they can use that time and energy toward school.

Uncategorized

Current Mood

Image
Erika's Weird Dreams

Waking up angry at the world

7:00 AM – my alarm beeps too loudly.

I hit the snooze button to savor as much sleep as possible.

I resumed back to my dream that I had been seeing throughout my sleep cycles last night. The latest episode in Erika’s Weird Dreams went something like this…

I was part of a Vagina Monologues* panel discussion with a mix of about ten male and female college students. And you know who facilitated this? An old white man… Haaah. We had a rehearsal before the actual event, and I spoke about how alcoholism is connected to consumerism and capitalism. I continued going off about how people spend their money on a substance that they think will save them or help them find love when it can ultimately hurt them in the long run.

For whatever reason, I sat in the front row closest to stage right during the actual panel discussion while everyone else was standing on stage. I wasn’t sure whether or not I was supposed to be on stage before I had my ten seconds of spotlight. When it was my turn, I got up from my seat and started walking up on the stage. Yet the stage had all these barriers set up so I stepped over them cautiously as to not cause unnecessary disruption during a live talk.

Before I could even share my two cents with the audience, the facilitator completely skipped me and moved on to the next pair of student speakers. Much to my frustration, I called him out on stage: “I’m part of the panel. Why didn’t you let me talk?”

“I didn’t like the way you talked about money in all this,” he rudely answered.

[cut to reality]

What the hell did I just witness?

I can’t remember the last time I woke up feeling so frustrated, angry, and confused at the same time. No better way to start the day than with some dude disrespecting my space and not letting me express my thoughts–even before I crawled out of my own bed. How ironic that an old white man controlled a critical discussion that aimed to be inclusive toward women. Clearly, money is out of the equation when discussing about consumerism, alcoholism, and relationships with people.

Perhaps Vagina Monologues came up in my dream since the women’s theater group at my school will be putting on their own version of it tomorrow and Saturday. With many of my fierce, badass friends involved with the production, I can’t wait to watch them perform on stage. I am all for performance art that celebrates womanhood and intersectional feminism while urging to end the systematic violence against women. I remember seeing this play back when I was an ~innocent~ college freshman and it kindled a fiery kind of woman power within me.

And that flame will stay ignited.

*Immediately after I woke up, I hurriedly jotted down on my phone every detail I could retain from whatever I had just seen before my memory vanished. I specified the discussion as Vagina Monologues but it could have been anything.

Standard