everything i learned in college

What being autistic means to me

For me, being autistic means being extreme. There is no way to explain it differently.

I am extremely human.

In many ways, I’m very rational. I rely a lot on my thinking and well, I think a lot. I am extremely interested in getting knew knowledge and in discussions about almost anything I can get extremely opinionated. I am very direct and honest. I speak my mind. I love solving problems which is why I often get extremely involved in them. I can spend hours studying for college – because I love everything I learn so much. Because I like to understand things. I have an extreme eye for details, patterns and logical connections. I am very analytical and I love analyzing – I can focus so perfectly on it that it almost feels like I never think anything else. I am philosophical, I like taking many and different approaches. I rather collect and connect the details myself than see the whole picture. I think extremely often about myself and analyze me and my behavior a lot. I talk to others about it and take their opinions into account. I try to learn about myself and improve through that. I am dedicated to take as many details as possible into account and connect them with each other. And it feels like I’m making progress every day, even if it’s just a little and even though it sometimes might need a few setbacks.

But I can be extremely emotional as well. I am so unbelievably passionate about the things that mean something to me. I can see beauty everywhere, in the strangest places. I can feel deeply. Sometimes, I like people so much because they approach me in the right way. Because of how I can speak to them. I enjoy their presence. But I can get extremely overwhelmed, too. I stress easily and worry a lot – about myself, others and just life in general. Sometimes I feel so strongly that I can’t describe it or even become numb. I love deeply and I love a lot of things. With all my heart. In my honesty, there is often a lot of kindness as well. I can get really involved in music, stories, art and people, even to a point of dedication.

I am extremely sensitive. I hear too many sounds and they are way too loud. Some of them even hurt – like a police siren, or the sound of chairs moving across the floor. And all these noises are tiring. Light blinds me extremely. You can easily scare me or make me jump. I am extremely ticklish. I can be sooo picky about my food, you wouldn’t believe it. And I am very aware of every aspect of my body, even though I can be extremely insensitive to pain. Sometimes it all gets overwhelming – then I often need to either sleep or cry.

For me, being autistic means being extreme. Extremely human.

Things I Learned in College

I’ve been a college student for three years now and for this coming first sem of school year 2017-2018, gladly I will become a senior. The idea of college wasn’t as valuable for me before. I thought it would be just like how high school embraced me. I thought college was only about whatever field you enroll yourself, new friends, dramas, and stuff just like what high school was about.

For three years of setting foot on college, back-and-forth from home to school, and being hopeful that at least I would survive this student life, I realize that all my thoughts about college were all wrong. Filtered with paper works, challenges about reports, and nerve-cracking demonstrations, college is totally a not-joke thing. Yes, I thought about that, for the first time in my life I took schooling seriously and all thanks to college.

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If you’re thinking about film school and want a taste or just want to figure out what’s up with movies Lindsay Ellis is doing a transformers centric analysis series that’s going to cover the basic schools of film theory and i wholeheartedly recommend it if you’re not sure where to start with learning film theory

I downloaded my Google history and it was humiliating 

For an hour, I hung out with my college self. I learned everything about him — his insecurities, the gaps in his knowledge, where he went when he was bored and his not-safe-for-work interests. How did I meet him? By viewing everything I’ve ever searched for online. Now I’m astonished — and a little ashamed — to see who I was when I was 21. That kid was an idiot.

But it also made me realize an unfortunate truth about technology in our lives.

lovemelikesunday  asked:

Prompt: greaser Bellamy and women's college/med school Clarke. Basically 50's au pls!

I have a serious weakness for greaser aus.  So much so that I’m going to fill a few other prompts in this universe too.  However, a disclaimer: everything I know about greasers I learned from The Outsiders and everything I know about women’s colleges I learned from The Bell Jar and Franny and Zooey.

Clarke perched on the low brick wall that separated Arcadia College for Women from the bustling street and popped the top button on her cardigan.  Harper sat down on her right and nudged Clarke with her shoulder.  “He’s back,” Harper whispered.

Clarke smothered a smile and kept her gaze trained on the corner where he leaned against his car, biceps bulging as he crossed his arms across his chest.  “He is,” she confirmed.  His dark hair glinted in the late afternoon sun, his teeth flashing as he laughed at a friend’s joke.

Monroe sat down to Clarke’s left.  “He’s back,” she grinned.  “You going to do something about it today?”

Clarke reached into her bag and pulled out an apple.  “I am.  Wish me luck, girls.”  She jumped down and slung her bag over her shoulder as strode calmly down the street, her skirt swishing while she walked.  He clapped one of his friends on the back as the other man left, leaving him alone.  Clarke bit into the crisp apple and chewed slowly, letting the tart taste wash over her tongue.  

He watched her approach, all dark eyes and a dangerous smile.  “What can I do for you, princess?” he drawled.

Clarke took another bite of her apple and made him wait.  “You’re here a lot,” she observed, almost like she was bored.

“So are you,” he pointed out, reaching over and plucking the apple from her hands.  His fingers brushed against hers and she fought down a shiver.  He bit into the apple and smirked as he chewed.  “Bellamy, by the way.”  He held the apple back out to her and she accepted, pointedly taking her next bite directly from where his mouth had been.


“Wanna get out of here?” he asked, stepping close.  She refused to back down, even when he trailed his finger down her jaw and lifted her chin up.  He smelled like gasoline and leather and made her heart pound against her ribcage.

She met his gaze evenly and then tipped her head toward the car.  “After you.”

I’m so high from life, or maybe coffee, perhaps good kisses. My hair is finally long and messy again. I don’t care if my job thinks men should have short hair. I am fantastic and sexy. I’m smart, and I’m learning. I go to college to learn that everything I’ve ever assumed was wrong and yet so fundamentally right. I need to find the facts, and so far professors will rarely speak it. It’s hidden in connotations in textbooks, but they can’t flat out say it. Everything about me is changing, because for my entire life I’ve been hiding who I am and trying to be liked. Now I know how to be myself and not care if I’m disliked, or better yet get others to like who I am. I love the leaves turning brown, I love the rainy weeks we’ve been having. I’m enamored. My mental health is at high this September. I hope no one pops my bubble, but I believe ideas are tangible and valuable. Is the world changing with me or am I changing alone? 

W/e I don’t care because I’ve met someone who knows my soul and will be on the same level as mine no matter what happens. Fucking resilience. 

I want more coffee. Also, I bought pumpkin seeds.


Hey friends so the other day I waited to meet fall out boy at the hotel/airport for almost 24 hours (yes) and I eventually got to meet Pete wentz and he high fives me and said he was glad I made it and I got to watch him talk about everything you could imagine for an entire hour in trinity college (I learned so much from him honestly) and I made friends with the visual tech guy Eric at the hotel who gave me andys used drumsticks at the end of the concert and it was a great time

This isn’t anything new, but after having a conversation with someone I’ve grown more passionate about our educational system. There are classes that are more important than advanced trigonometry. 

We need classes on taxes, interaction with police, climate change, cooking and other household duties, sex education, social skills, history of the world(from other perspectives), music and so much more. 

Of course this a pipe dream and of course this isn’t a new thought, but I wanted to share. It’s terrible to know that at the age of 20, everything I learned of some importance I learned on my own or at college. I shouldn’t have had to be lost and blind to the world until I was legally an adult. 

girafffing  asked:

So I'm still in college but I'm teaching at a camp this summer and I'm working really hard but I notice that when my lessons don't go as planned, I start freaking out and dreading teaching those classes because I don't want them to go poorly again. I'm just wondering if you have advice on recovering from a less-than-ideal class and moving forward, other than to just suck it up and keep trying haha

Suck it up and keep trying.

The good thing is that you recognize the lesson didn’t work.  I cannot tell you how many times I’ve seen teachers keep doing a lesson that does’t work/is boring/is outdated just because it’s what they’ve planned and they either don’t want to do the work to change it or they’re afraid of leaving their comfort zone.  

there was a time when I taught speech four times a day.  Period 1 would get the roughest version of a lesson, but period 7 had smooth sailing, because I had slowly worked out the bugs throughout the day.  I used to joke that Period 1 got the dress rehearsal and 7 got the closing night.  

I also found that of everything I learned in college, what made a significant impact on my teaching was the year and a half I spent performing improvisational comedy.  It was literally thinking on my feet in front of an audience.  So on those days when a lesson didn’t work, or I underplanned and still had 15 minutes to fill, I didn’t feel like a baffoon winging it.  (It doesn’t mean what I did was golden, but at least I tried.)

I remember I once had a professor dock me on a lesson plan I turned in because I didn’t note my transitions, or how long it would take to do tasks–even how long it would take to pass out papers.  She also criticized me for having a “If time allows” section because she said if I planned accordingly, then no time would be allowed and I’d be teaching bell to bell.  When It took this to my host teacher at the time, she laughed her ass off at my professor.  She told me 1.  I did exactly what a real teacher would do in planning for extra time, and 2.  No one writes lesson plans that detailed in the real world after college.  (And she was right, at least in my employment history.)  

A plan is a plan.  That’s why we say pl*n your lesson.  Because it may not go as planned and you have to be willing to deviate or let it fall apart if you are going to cling tightly to your plans.  The tigehter you cling, the more it’s going to fall apart.

4812) I used to have a great relationship with my dad. We grew apart over the years yet he pays for everything; rent, bills, groceries, college tuition, and even my HRT. I just learned today he sees me as a moocher and thinks I don't love him. I don't blame him as I'm awkward around him now. I'm such a bitch. Dad, I don't hate you. I just don't know how to fix a broken relationship and be your daughter rather than your son at the same time. I want us to be close again. I'm sorry, Dad. I love you.