Excuses Excuses

There is an excuse for everything. My major excuse for not writing is Chemistry. I spend all my free time doing online homework or studying for a quiz that I have every Thursday. Most of the time I run my brain until it is fried, until the equations I am looking at look like Gibberish. The point when my brain cannot handle anymore Chemistry is when I start to write. Writing is a definite change of pace from balancing equations or finding the limiting reactant.

Just my daily does of chemistry

Usually, this all happens late at night. My days are routine, I go to class, do homework until 8-9 at night, then go to the gym, then come back and try to get more homework done. When I am really struggling with my work I turn to writing. In Calculus or Chemistry, theres right and wrong answers. With writing, theres no right or wrong answer; either you do it or you don't. I like to write after I struggle with my homework because it makes me feel productive even if what I am writing about is pointless.

I usually write lying on my stomach on my floor. It's really weird but I love to do work sitting on the ground. My poor roommate has to step over my papers and notebook spread across our tiny floor just to get to her bed. Sometimes I sit crossed legged, but most of the time I lay on my stomach.

My usual study space

I really don't have any more excuses for not writing, because I actually do like to write about myself. We all think were the center of the universe, so getting assigned to write about yourself is not really that difficult. I have told all my cousins on my dad's side (all 18 of them) in my family group chat about my blog, which they read every time I tell them about a new post. I love it when one of my cousins text me about my blog, or they tell my that my one post was really good. One time my mom called me laughing at my post about the day my sister and I spent together. My cousin Sarah, who happens to have her own blog, told me that my blog inspired her to blog more, which inspired me to keep writing about the random stuff that happens throughout my day. After not talking to my sister for a whole day she called me and said, "Where have you been? I read your blog to keep up with you because your always too busy to answer my calls." I find it so funny that my family stalks a major part of my English grade to find out what I am up to.

I think it's important to write so you don't forget about all the little things that happened on you. I know that at any point in the future, I can type in my URL and reread what happened during my first semester of college.

Home Sweet Home

One of the many pictures I've taken
 on my way to class. 

One of my favorite places to study. 

Nothing feels as reassuring as knowing that I picked the right school. It's so cliche and bias to think that you have the best school, but I seriously cannot picture myself anywhere else besides Fairfield. I knew I wanted to go to fairfield the first time I took a campus tour. Original my dream school was Providence College in Rhode Island, but after getting wait listed my thoughts changed. After hearing back from all my schools I decided that Fairfield was where I wanted to be.

I couldn't be happier with the choice I made. I love walking around campus looking at the pretty flowers or apple trees. Fairfield is only 90 miles from my home which I feel is the perfect distance. I still get the chance to experience a new environment and town, but if I ever need something home is only 2 hours away.

I've had plenty of visitors since I left for school. This is my first time away from my huge family, so everyone knew I was going to have to make a big adjustment. The first weekend of school, I did not allow any visitors. I wanted to get acclimated to my new surrounds, and I felt that having people from home come would just hold me back. The second week of school, my sister came, the following wednesday my mom came, and the next weekend my mom and other sister came. This past weekend, I was going to go home, but I decided I should stay. My parents were shocked when I called them and told them that I would rather stay at school than go home. I love having so many opportunities to see my family, yet I also enjoy not feeling like I need to see them every weekend. 


I feel like I am more likely to have visitors at school because of where Fairfield is located. The town of Fairfield has great shops, restaurants, and (of course, my favorite part) the beach. It is so convenient to spend the day in town, rather than having to drive to a mall or search for something to do. I could not imagine going to a school in the middle of nowhere.

I'd hate to admit it, but one of the major pros on my list when choosing a school was the face that the beach is so close. Out of the four weekends I've been here, I've gone to the beach 3 times. On weekends my favorite thing to do is throw my towel, bathing suit, and homework in a bag, put on my sneakers and set off on my 2.7 mile hike to the beach. The walk is a bit long, but it's so worth it just do I don't feel trapped at school. The beach is one of my favorite places on earth, so even though I do not get to spend my time at my beach at home, it is still nice to sit on Fairfield's beach for a couple of hours. 

It is so satisfying to know that I am actually happy at school. Yeah, I haven't made my group of friends yet and I obviously miss home but I could not imagine going through this experience anywhere else besides Fairfield. During the week I am distracted by my countless hours of homework and studying, and on the weekends I go to the beach. I'd say I am doing pretty good making the best out of a good situation. 

Lunch date at the beach with my mom

Obviously we found ourselves at the beach 

This is Water

When we first got assigned to read This Is Water by David Foster Wallace I did not think anything of it. It was my first college reading assignment, so I assumed it was going to be a boring story full of facts and big words. When I opened the book I had deja vu, I knew that I read this sometime before. Then I remembered I was assigned to read this commencement speech for my last high school reading assignment. Right away I emailed my English teacher from 12th grade and told her that thanks to her, I was prepared to do my first college reading assignment.


I then realized my thoughts towards This Is Water haven't changed. Wallace's speech still gave me goosebumps. By using real life examples, Wallace relates to the readers, and makes you think about your day to day activities.

Wallace explains that on days when everything goes wrong you have the power to chose what to think and how to perceive your life. Simply put, if you go around thinking everything sucks, everything is going to suck. But everything doesn't have to suck, if you don't make it. Wallace explains that, "Thinking this way is natural default setting. It's the automatic, unconscious way that I experience the boring, frustrating, crowded parts of adult life when I'm operating on the automatic, unconscious belief that I am the center of the world and that my immediate needs and feelings are what should determine the world's priorities." Those are pretty straight forward words that address a harsh reality. Humans are compassionate, but why do we always seem to put our wants, needs, and desires before others?



I think Wallace's point is spot on. Good things do actually come to those who think good things. There are no success stories of heroes, survivors, or famous people that got to where they were today by thinking negative thoughts. You never hear anyone say, "I'd like to thank my negative attitude for shaping me into the person I am today." All those people have one thing in common: they are positive and actually believe that they can make a change in their life.



In addition to not being a negative person you can't be around negative people... negativity is contagious! So many times one person is having a bad day, complaining about things they can't change then BAM, the person sitting next to them starts to complain, which leads to the next person to start, and the next, and the next, and the next.

The best thing to do when your having a terrible day is to sit back and reflect on how good you have it. I know when I first got to college, I was overwhelmed by being in a new place, with new people, and a new workload. Most of the time I just wanted to shut down and give up, but I knew if I did things would not get any easier. I forced myself out of my comfort zone and tried to make the best of the situation I was in. I knew that if I laid in my bed and complained how I hated school or how hard this new experience was, it would never get better. Instead, I decided to be proactive and distract myself from how I felt. I realized that I am lucky enough to be at a good school, supported by my family, bettering my future. I thought about all the people that did not get the same opportunities as I did, and if, given the chance, they would take my position in a heart beat.

Sometimes, I still get overwhelmed at Fairfield. Even though it is a small school, there is still a lot of people and school work and defiantly not enough hours in the day. Whenever I have a bad day, I try to revert my thoughts to good thoughts. Like Wallace says, some days you just aren't able to it. Some days I can't do it, and I fall back to my default setting. On those days though, I go to sleep knowing that tomorrow when I wake up I will have a much better day than yesterday.

Zip, Zip, Zip

Not going to lie, when I first found out that I would be going zip lining for my EN 11 class, I was a nervous wreck. Not only did I not know anyone in the class, I am terrified of heights and hate doing anything relatively close to being adventurous. I had never been on a “fun” field trip, so this was a whole new experience for me.  

My EN 11 class

At first it was awkward. Here was my whole English class, who happen to live in the same building as me, sitting in a parking lot waiting for our professor, and two other professors at our school, to drive us to an adventure park to zip line. What sounds normal about that?

Everyone had different feelings, excited, nervous, anxious, worried, eager, happy. But we all had one thing in common, we did not know what to expect.

I was amazed that after a 20 minute “safety brief” a group of 18 year olds were prepared to climb trees and do obstacles. I was so nervous as I took my first steps onto the bridge that was 20 feet in the air. Obviously I panicked. Was I using my carabineer the right way? Is my harness tight enough? I felt like I forgot all the safety things they just taught us. I thought I was going to die.

After getting myself worked up, I realized that what I was doing was totally safe. If it weren’t, the place would have been shut down already. You don’t hear many stories about people falling to their death zip lining. Everyone that seemed so confident completing the elements had to be just as nervous as me. I decided instead of worrying like I always do, I was going to allow myself to enjoy the experience because the chances of me going zip lining for another class was slim to none.

The first course I did was a yellow, a relatively easy course the required little balance and strength. My first couple elements (bridges, ropes, tunnels that you cross in the air in order to reach the next platform) I was shaky. I went very slow and cautiously. By the end of the yellow trail though, I felt like a pro. I was flying through elements with no hesitation, which is surprising for me. Before I knew it, I zipped right down to the ground; I had completed my first course.

My next challenge was a green course, a step up from yellow, but not as intense as a blue or black course. It was obvious that this course was much difficult than the yellow one I just completed. It involved more balance and coordination, something that I lacked. I relied on upper body strength, and holding on for dear life, to get me through. Halfway though the course, I wanted to get down. I felt completely mentally and physically unprepared for the challenge. At this point, the staff member asked me what was wrong. When I told him I felt completely unprepared, he said that the only way to be prepared is to actually do it. I guess he was right, there was no way I could prepare myself for the experience of zip lining before I actually did it. That little pep talk gave me the motivation to finish to course and zip down to the ground.

Two courses were enough for me. After barley completing the green, I knew I wasn’t prepared to move onto blue. I threw in the towel and waited for the rest of the class to be done.

I think zip lining was the perfect bonding experience for my EN 11 class. It brought us all together by making us do something unusual. There’s no way a class dinner or movie night would have united our class the way zip lining did. We bonded with people not because we had to, but because we wanted to. I feel like everyone found someone in the class that was on the same level as him or her. This allowed them to do the courses together and create a bond from a new experience. I feel like we are much more comfortable with each other now than we were at the beginning of the year.

I’m glad that Professor Kelley made us go zip lining. If it weren’t for her, my boring self would have never had the experience.

Some of the elements I completed!

Kristina Who?

My name is Kristina, but no one calls me that. My Dad loved the name Maria and was certain that was going to be my name. My mom on the other hand had a different plan. She wanted all of her daughters to have an eight letter name ending in 'a' (it's odd, I know). So when it came to naming me, my parents compromised on the name Kristina, it sounded like Maria (kind of) and had eight letters ending in 'a' like my mom wanted. That is why my name is spelt with a K, not a Ch.

My mom never intended any of her children to be called by nicknames, so it's unusual that I along with my two sisters and brother have extremely long names (Victoria, Samantha, Alessandro). By time my mom got to her 5th kid she probably realized that nicknames were inevitable. My youngest brother is named Jack.

Bean 

When it comes to nicknames, I have a million unusual nicknames. Since I was a baby I was called "Bean." Everyone always asks how did you get that name? Where did it come from? I ask the same questions. I have no idea why I am called Bean or Beanie, it's just always how it has been. When I question my parents they say, "We called you Green Bean Casion." Even when I hear that I think well why were my parents calling me a green casino... I don't know. That is why when people ask me why I am called Bean I just say I don't know, it's been like that since before I remember.

I was always the girl that no one knew what to call. In class my friends called me Kristina, but outside of class they would call me Bean. My grandmas, cousins, aunts, uncles, and friends parents would all call me Bean. Some teachers would catch onto my nickname and call me Bean, while others would ignore it. I never wrote Bean on my papers even though I wanted to.

When I got to high school I didn't know what to tell people to call me. My old friends from middle school called me Bean, but how could I go up to someone I was meeting for the first time and say, "Hi, I'm bean!" That just sounds weird. I ended up introducing myself as Kristina, even thought they knew my name was Bean. Some would try to call me Bean, except they would add an "S" and call me Beans. I hated that. Many people thought Kristina and Bean were two different people, so it was like I had two separate identities. By time everyone got used to Bean, my named changed again.

I don't know where the nickname Bernard came from, but I am called that. It is like the ugliest, most repulsive name for a girl in my opinion (sorry for anyone that is actually named Bernard). I don't even find the St. Bernard dog cute. Though the nickname is relatively new, I can't pinpoint when it started. I know that at first my sister and her friends would call me Bernice, an ugly name just to embarrass me. We'd be out in public and they'd address me as Bernice, which I responded to. It was a freshman in high school when this started, so for people to know who I was made me happy. My sister would introduce me to her friends as Bernice and I would just go along with it. To this day, my freshman year gym teacher calls me Bernie. Whenever I would see him in the hallway or outside of school he'd say "Hey Bernie!" I swear, only I can get a nickname from a nickname. Everyone knows that is not my real name, yet they continued to call me it.

Once Bernice got old I started getting called Bernard. It's not even like my name starts with a B so I don't know why all my ugly nicknames start with a B. People call me Bernard, Nardy, Nardia, literally any variation they can think of. It's not even like these nicknames are just from friends; my parents, grandparents, cousins, all call me it. My dad addresses me as Princess Nardia and when my mom is mad she'll say Bernard! This started as a joke, but my nicknames have become part of my identity.

I don't mind being called by these nicknames by people I know. I think its funny that my parents actually call me Nardy for no apparent reason. Before I came to college the big debate was whether or not I should continue being called by these ugly names - I chose not to. The only thing I hate about these names is explaining to people how I got them or why I'm called that because I really have no idea.
I know it is only a matter of time before I have a new nickname.

Miss My Sis

Our first tastes of real food in 2 weeks!

Lunch at Panera

Tori's first time pumping gas!

Sunday was one of the best days I had at Fairfield since arriving here. My sister, Tori, came to spend the day with me. My day got off to an early start; I went for a run while half the campus was still asleep. By time I got back and showered, Tori was waiting for me. We went straight to the mall where we shopped for hours. It was so nice to finally be reunited with my sister after spending the past two weeks apart. We stopped for a quick lunch break at Panera, just to refuel ourselves before our trip to Target. There we got everything I needed, more notebooks, index cards, a vacuum,  and groceries. The highlight of my day was when my mom called us on our way home. After texting us nonstop, begging to send her pictures, she asked why we were spending so much money.  She told us that her credit card company had called to double-check that it was not fraud. My sister and I were hysterically laughing because we were alternating which one of my mom’s credit cards we would use so she didn’t notice. My mom couldn’t even get mad at us because it was the happiest both of us been since leaving for school. I mean, I did buy some pointless things, but for the most part I got everything that I spent the past two weeks living without. After we got back from the mall we took a little power nap then decided to go to dinner. We drove around for a half hour looking for a restaurant with good food. Any kind of food would be better than both our dining halls combined, but we wanted to make sure it was satisfying. On the search for a restaurant, Tori said she needed gas. We pulled up to the gas station and rolled down the window. We sat there for a couple minutes before we realized we were in Connecticut… we have to pump our own gas. Tori and I could not stop laughing. We live in New Jersey, we have never encountered this before. We both got out and tried to maneuver the pump and figure out how to do it. I guess it's true, you learn something new everyday. We went to Joe’s for dinner, finally real food! It was so nice to sit and be silly with my sister, something I didn’t realize how much I missed. When it came time to say goodbye I got really upset. I spent the day laughing with someone that I actually knew; now she had to leave. As she pulled away, I realized I was back at Fairfield alone. There is no one here that I know as well as my sister.  

Coming off of my great day yesterday, today sucked. My morning started off terrible by getting woken up by a jackhammer outside my window at 7:49 am… when I didn’t have class till 9:30. Being that I was up late doing homework, I was not happy. I rolled out of bed with a slight headache. I was dreading today before it even happened. After I got ready for my day, I realized my Kurieg was not working, as it hasn’t been for a whole day and a half now (that’s a big deal for me because I drink four cups, if not more a day). I sprinted to Einstein’s on campus in the wake of its rush. I waited in line for about 6-7 minutes, only to be served average hot coffee, nothing special. On my way back to my dorm I splashed coffee on my creamed colored shirt which left behind 3 huge stains on my sleeve. When I arrived back a Jouges, I had to fumble for my stag card to get inside. Once I was back at my room I had to use Tide-To-Go on my stain, luckily it sort of came it. I rushed to eat my breakfast (if you consider stale Cheerios breakfast). I ran to Cansisus when I had English, followed by Chemistry. My classes were not bad, but I was a bit overwhelmed from this morning still. Around noon I arrived back at my room and did homework for four hours straight… I don’t even know how. I went to my last class of the day, Spanish, where I had a quiz and got out 20 minutes early (at least that was good). Then I went to Barone and had my typical dinner… yogurt with blueberries, so filling (not). Now I will sit in my room and do homework for the rest of the night, only breaking to go to the gym.

Today made me realize how much I miss having someone that actually know around. I have friends at Fairfield, but no one that I am completely comfortable with. I can only hope that next weekend I will have someone from home visit me and cheer me up. I know eventually that I will find people on campus that will do this, but as of right now I must to rely on people from home. Tomorrow is a fresh start, and I know I will have a much better day.

Literacy Autobiography

When I was about two or three, my mom used to read to my sister and I. We would sit in the tiny room off of her bedroom and read my favorite story, “Goodnight Moon”.  My older sister and I used to argue about who got to sit on the rocking chair with mom. As my sister and I got older, and my younger brothers and sister came along, my reading time with my mom slowly vanished. It became to hard for her to raise five kids, and read to us every night. I did not mind that my mom stopped reading to me by the age of six, at that point we were all too busy for it anyway.

There has always been a bookshelf in my playroom filled with books that no one reads. The books on the shelf were books that we got from RIF (reading is fun) fairs at school and they mostly took up space. There are always magazines and newspapers lying around my house. My mom loves to read the Costal Living and Pottery Barn magazines, while my dad will occasionally read the paper. My dad is a huge wrestling fan, so during wrestling season he will turn to the sports section to fill him in on all the matches he missed. From what he reads, he makes predictions about who is going to make the state championship and what kids my brother can beat. Whenever my brother is in the paper for wrestling, my mom cuts out the articles and hangs them on the back door. That is all my family will talk about for a couple of days. I've grown up watching my grandma read the paper. To this  day, my 83-year-old grandma reads The New York Times every single day. She reads every article on every page and ALWAYS does her sudoko.

My parents were never the ones to force education on me or any of my siblings. They opted for  the "reverse physiology approach." It is not like they don't care about their kids, they wanted us to learn that if you do not do your school work then you will have to deal with the consequences. They felt that if they forced it on us, we may shy away from it. In school there was always the “good readers” that volunteered to read to the class. These students had loud, clear voices and could pronounce even the hardest words. I was never one of these students, but I always envied them. I imagined that their parents spent hours on end with them, teaching them every word in the dictionary. I was jealous of these kids because I felt that they were smarter, better.  I knew how to read, but I would get caught up in big words, and stumble because I got nervous. always saw the teachers reading emails, online articles, and even books during their free time. At a young age, it was hard for me to understand that people read for pleasure. My parents never had the time to sit down and read like that, they were always running around. 

In my middle school we were forced to read. We had this program called Accelerated Reader, AR. You would have to pick a book off of the AR list, read it, and take an online on it. Each book was worth a different number of points and you had to accumulate a certain number of points each semester. This program forced me to read, luckily I was able to chose what book it was. Yeah, it was annoying, but it made me see that reading was not too bad. I learned that I could get lost in a book, make up my own opinions about characters, and visualize what is going on in the story. For the most part, I read cheesy love stories by authors like Nicolas Sparks and Jodi Picoult. Occasionally I will try to read a mystery or horror story, but I get way to scared and have to put it down. Along with my new knowledge about the fun in reading, I learned that I like to write. 

            I think that writing is a great way to express your feelings and say things that you cannot necessarily say. Sometimes I would write in a journal just so I could reflect back on my day. What I wrote was not for others to see, it was personal. Over the last decade, the way in which people express themselves through writing has changed. Now kids use Twitter and Facebook to express themselves. I have a Twitter account, but my tweets are pointless. I use twitter to keep up with my friends and to follow celebrities, not as a diary. I get annoyed when I scroll through my timeline and see people giving an update on their personal life. Don't they realize that no one cares? I feel bad for the younger generations because reading and writing will not be as popular as it used to be. I can only imagine how people will express themselves in 30 years. Only time will tell.