Monthly Archives: March 2014

The Radisson.

I laid in bed this morning recounting what happened. My chest still trembled. That was actually really scary and that was actually really close. I’m 100% ok and 110% safe, but that was, well that simply must not have been real. 

Last night, Susan, Brittany and her boyfriend, and Serena went out to celebrate Serena’s 21st birthday. It was one of the first warm days of spring and I excitedly pulled my shorts for the first time all season. An extra coat of mascara and 30 minutes later, I was out on the town and ready to enjoy some good friends and a good time.

Two bars and one drink in, we met a group of guys who were on a bro-cation to Hipsterville from New York City. That’s where I began to hit it off with Samson. Samson was 23, a “consultant” in Washington D.C. and originally from Queens and he was enrolled to attend Harvard Law in the fall of 2014. I beamed and gushed about how I JUST got back from Queens and had a really cool experience. He showered with me compliments and praise when we got to talking about my commitment with Teach For America, Mississippi next year. “That is a truly noble endeavor and an amazing attestment to your character!” I never felt so respected, nor had I ever had such a deep, intellectual conversation with a stranger in a bar. Samson was everything. 

I even excitedly texted Savannah and Renee to tell them about my great find! ME: I JUST MET MY SOUL MATE! 

30 minutes later, our group decided to change scenes and invited Samson and his friends to join us. Long story short, the walk was long, the streets were crowded, and before I knew it, it was only me and Samson. I sat down at a picnic table in the backyard of a cool, indie, outdoor bar and texted the group text with my friends furious. ME: Y’all I’m at Bar 74. Five minutes and no reply later, Samson reported that his buddy texted him. “The whole crew went back to the Radisson and are partying in our suite! Let’s go meet up with them.”

PAUSE- I know what you are probably thinking. Why the fuck, Sara Wildes, why the fuck would you

  1. party in a hotel-especially a Radisson?!
  2. go to a hotel alone with a guy if you didn’t intend on sleeping with him?!

Confession: I’ve never just hooked up with a guy like that. I mean come on I’ve kissed like, six guys in my life. MY WHOLE LIFE. I’m 22…

I didn’t even connect hotel to sex. I just don’t, or well, I just didn’t. I would like to point out that I was sober for the entirety of this experience.

15 minutes later, we arrived at the Radisson holding hands and rode the elevator  up seven floors. “They are all in our room up here” he kept assuring me. Worried I kept checking my phone, asking about “Big Red”, AKA-Susan’s new nickname by the NYC boys. He swiped his card and held the door for me.

I walked down a long hallway cheerfully calling Susan’s and Brittany’s names in the process. The hallway  eventually opened up into a large room with two beds. The color and blood rushed from my face. The room was empty. 

I turned around. The door was already closed and Samson was walking towards me. You tricked me my voice screamed inside my head. “They-they- they’re not here…” I stuttered. “Oh, don’t worry,” he cooed “they’re coming right back, they texted me”. But I didn’t believe him this time. They were never here, and no one is coming.

In a blur of confusion his hands were suddenly on my waist, his lips were on mine, and I was pinned flat on the bed that I previously stood at the foot of. NO my mind screamed again but no sound escaped. I did not agree to this, I am not ready for this, I do not want this. His hand reach for the button of my shorts and in that same moment I propelled my right arm across my body. I struck the side of his head with my class ring with enough force to make his drunk ass roll off of me and onto the floor  and in a second, I was on my feet and so was he. “Wait,” he began as he moved his arms to touch my shoulders but Samson never got a chance to finish.

Without hesitation, I was at the door. Heavy, I pulled it closed behind me and darted THE WRONG WAY down the hall. I wasn’t able to think about the direction of the elevator I literally was just in 2 minutes ago. I hear a door clank open and moved into a nook of the doorway five rooms down. Samson now stood between me and the elevator. But he hadn’t seen me. I pulled out my phone. SOS. HELP. HELP HELP. I texted my the group text with Brittany, Susan, and Serena. I texted my friend Peter who I had heard from last only 1 hour earlier. I texted friend Cooper. I texted everyone I trusted. 

After 30 seconds of texting I felt some sort of relief. At least if I die or go missing, someone will at least now be looking for me and will know I was in trouble. Ahead of me further down the hall I spotted a stairwell. I could hear some noises coming from behind me but, too afraid to peek, I just walked calmly to the stairwell without looking back.

Now, when I say “calmly”, I mean as calmly as I could. I decided running would draw attention to myself and would be loud. I intentionally tried to appear calm but I am certain that I looked like I was running from a nuclear explosion, a man with a gun, or Hilter himself.

My phone was buzzing, I stood behind where the door would open and answered a call from Cooper. “I’m at the Radisson” I reported with complete shame. He was on his way, now just to get out. The stairwell was not any normal stairwell. It must have been a service area because after I flew down six flights, I ended up in a kitchen. As if I had hit a brick wall, I stopped dead in my tracks. Surrounded by industrial silver and soft sounds of clanking, two men in white stared at me with their brown eyes. Oh no, not more men. I don’t trust men. 

I just kept walking. I blew past them toward the beaming red EXIT sign. I popped out of the heavy metal door to an ally of dumpsters and dirty puddles. Disoriented. I looked up, I was now on the opposite side of where I entered the building. I checked my phone, Brittany was too drunk to drive downtown, Cooper was coming. It was all going to be alright. I quickly confirmed that home was to the left and I just went that way and didn’t stop.

Somewhere, halfway across the bridge I found myself walking across, I looked at the twinkle of the city lights reflected in the river below. I was ok, my heart was pounding and hands were shaking from the adrenaline, but I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t in tears. The only thoughts that crossed my mind were

  • I can’t look at that river the same anymore. Over a month ago, the body of a sophomore boy at the University of Hipsterville was found floating in it. He had been in the water a week. The police ruled it as a suicide.
  • I’m so glad that my dad is alive.
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Countdown 40 days.

Countdown 40 days.

And this is what I’ll be wearing under my cap and gown.

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Flashback: The Source

It was a warm Thursday night in February 2012. On that same Monday, I broke up with my pathetic high school boyfriend of 3.5 years. I had a huge crush on someone else, he was an ass, and I was changing into the person I am today. I was a 19 year-old sophomore, it was Homecoming week at the University of Hipsterville, and decked out in  a face tattoo, nike shorts, a pink bandana around my forehead, and knee socks I quickly scurried back to my dorm room to freshen up after competing in the school’s dodgeball tournament. I had plans to go to a friend’s party and then to see a movie afterwards with Dexter. He was picking me up in 5 minutes.

I looked in the mirror, that face tattoo was not coming off. I took off the bandana to mess with my hair. It left lines across my forehead that I knew wouldn’t vanish in the next 5 minutes. God damn… I retied it and decided to rock it. I shrugged, spritzed perfume and packed my backpack with a handle of vodka.

Now, this “friend” was in fact an older guy’s party that I  discovered later was a “social event” I definitely should not have been at. He was an upperclassmen leader of a freshmen and sophomore program I was a part of and partying with your youngins was apparently strictly forbidden. I found out a few weeks later that me and Dexter’s attendance at this party was a key event that lead to him getting fired. Oops.

We walked into the party and quickly began our socializing. I beamed with happiness. Dexter was just as, if not more outgoing than I was and was fully self sufficient at entertaining himself at every party. My 3 day old ex-boyfriend would have  followed me around like a lost puppy, suffocating me and pissing me off the whole time. I walked through the living room and spotted a familiar face sitting outside on the balcony. It was Savannah. Two years ago, Savannah and I knew that the other existed but that’s about as deep as the relationship went. I waved and went to the kitchen to join what looked like a hilariously fun drinking game.

30 minutes later I was happily tipsy and unknowingly flirting with a guy that was not Dexter, who I was technically on a “first date with”. His name was Ken. He was tall, dark headed, confident and hilarious, and he was (and still is) dreamy as fuck. Ok, who am I kidding, I knew I was flirting. Caught up in his glorious sexiness I leaned against his chest and we laughed about God knows what. Dexter glared at me from across the room. Shit, straighten up! At the very least, I still need that kid to give me a ride home.

I excused myself and made my way out the balcony where I previously saw Savannah. I sat down across from her and made small talk. I always really liked Savannah and was curious to get to know her. Her and her girlfriends always looked like they were having so much fun! After a few minutes she looked straight at me with her blue eyes. “So, did you come here with Dexter?” she asked. “Ya!” I gushed. “We’re going to see the movie ‘The Woman in Black’ after too”.

“Just, be careful about him.” 

My eyes widened. I wasn’t offended, I wasn’t disturbed, if anything I was curious. “What? How come? I mean I know that he had a fling with,” my eyes looked up to the sky to recall and quickly count the rumors I had heard “…two girls I know, but he doesn’t seem sketchy.”

“That might be just the ones you know about, who knows what you haven’t heard. You know?”

Another 30 minutes later Dexter asked if I still wanted to see the movie. He later confessed that he thought I was no longer into him because I was obviously flirting with Ken just moments prior. I didn’t want to see the movie anymore, but I told myself that if I didn’t go it would be because I was too nervous about dating after a stupid, long-term relationship and I did NOT want to be nervous. I wanted to be fun. I wanted to be flirty. Off we went, Dexter and I to see some dumb ass movie I honestly had no interest in.

It didn’t matter because we didn’t watch any of it anyway. 

Reflecting on this night, ground zero, the original source, I can’t help but feel like the universe was screaming at me to not get started down a road with Dexter. I still wonder what could have happened between me and Ken, what would have  become of me if I literally didn’t dump a dude of 3.5 years because I wanted to flirt with Dexter and not feel guilty, and what would have resulted if I turned down the movie invitation and stayed at the party.

Now, two years later, Savannah is one of my closest friends. Why didn’t I listen to her that night? Why didn’t I pick up the warning signs and question Dexter from the start?

But, what’s done is done and this history is written. Live and learn and keep moving forward. It’s crazy how things change.

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Most Days, I am Conflicted.

  • Most days, I want to go home. But I don’t know where home is.
  • Most days, I want to move away. But I don’t want to leave the life I’ve made here.
  • Most days, I want to go on adventures and be fearless. But I also want to build a history somewhere.
  • Most days, I want to move to Japan to teach English. But I don’t want to be discriminated against for being a woman.
  • Most days, I want to be alone. But I don’t want to feel lonely.
  • Most days, I think that I know exactly what I want to do. But I don’t want to discover that I’m wrong.
  • Most days, I want to be able to do nothing. But I don’t want to feel like I haven’t contributed anything.
  • Most days, I want someone to tell me I matter. But I don’t want attention because it makes me uncomfortable.
  • Most days,  I want to smile. But I only want to smile at the things that are worth it.
  • Most days, I want my mom to call me. But I don’t want to talk.
  • Most days, I want clarity. But I am chronically confused.

Commandment Number Six.

I’ve been building my own ten commandments, but it has been awhile since I have made any additions. Here’s a brief refresher.

  1. Thou shalt not take shit.
  2. Thou shalt not dwell (beyond 10 seconds)
  3. Laugh, always
  4. Dance like no one’s watching
  5. Look fierce, be fierce.

My latest addition is a hard learned lesson. I’m accepting the loss of several friendships, my parents, and a lot of things that I once viewed as stable and supportive. Since Teach for America has a assigned me to be a secondary math teacher in the 2014 corp, let me explain it in equations.

  • Me friends, parents, support = sadness 
  • sadness + confusing life transitions = isolation
  • feeling isolated > sense of self worth
  • Sense of self worth < what I know I’m worth.

The constant and repetitive subtraction of people, things, and relationships from my life has come with its own set of challenges. Until recently, I saw each event and each person gone, leaving, or withering as an addition to my own sadness and isolation. But now, I’m discovering that the people that leave your life, the support that ceases to exist over time, and the parents  that you are beginning to realize you don’t actually know have shown glimpses of their true colors and nature, leading me to Commandment number six.

6. Allow people to show you their nature and never forget what you have seen. 

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The Bracket.

For two years in a row, I gave Dexter the hardest of times because he forgot to make a March Madness bracket with me. Instead of taking it as a sign of the ever-so obvious fact that he sucked, I thought it was silly and kind of cute and teased him about it endlessly. Dexter swore up and down that he would never forget to make a bracket with me again.

Yesterday, I walk out to my car in the morning. Rocking a new pair of earrings, and a solid 7 hours of sleep (for once) I felt ready to be productive and take several steps to get my shitty ass messy life back on track. I get in my car, get my phone settled in my cup holder like I do everyday and reach to turn on the ignition. That’s when I saw it. A folded piece of paper stuck neatly under my windshield wiper.

My stomach dropped. 

Dizzy, I opened the door and got out to retrieve the mystery paper. I got back in, closed the door, and locked it. I took a deep breathe. Even though I did not know what was to come, there was some deep part of my soul that knew, hands down, that this wasn’t going to be a fun experience. Slowly, I unfolded the paper. Damp from the morning dew and humidity, I had to be careful not to tear it. The paper lay open on my lap.

A bracket. 

Nothing else, just the bracket. He didn’t need to write a note, he didn’t need to sign it, I knew. I knew what it was and what it meant. I refolded the paper and tossed it into my passenger seat and began my short commute to campus. I was unaffected for a solid 30 seconds. By the first stoplight however, I lost it.

Hot tears gushed from the corners of my eyes and streamed down my cheeks. I was livid. I was livid that he dare try to send me any form of a message. I was livid that I ever crossed his mind. I was livid that it was the third year a shitty person fucked up my attempt at enjoying March Madness. I was livid that he attempted to “fulfill his promise” after all of his lies and cheating. I was livid that he tried to mess with me AGAIN. I was livid that he stood in my apartment complex and touched my fucking car while I unknowingly slept upstairs only 20 feet away.

Mostly, I was livid that I was fucking up my awesome eye makeup. 

A shrill scream escaped from me. Like an out of body experience, my own scream hurt my  ears and took me by surprise. My right hand was throbbing and I looked down to realize that it had formed a tight fist as it pounded relentlessly on the steering wheel. I could see it all happening, but I was not in control.

I was not in control of myself. I was not in control on my surroundings. I was not in control of what was happening to me. All because of one little piece of paper and all because he knew exactly what he was doing… Who knew you could endure emotional abuse from someone you don’t even see or talk to. LEAVE. ME. ALONE.


101 Things I Will Teach My Daughters

Thought Catalog

1. Chocolate is only a temporary fix.

2. A properly-fitting bra is not a luxury. It is a necessity.

3. Your happiness is your happiness and yours alone.

4. How to apply red lipstick.

5. How to wear the crap out of red lipstick.

6. A boyfriend does not validate your existence.

7. Eat the extra slice of pizza.

8. Wear what makes you feel gracefully at ease.

9. Love the world unconditionally.

10. Seek beauty in all things.

11. Buy your friends dinner when you can.

12. Wear sunscreen like it’s your second job.

13. Try with all your might to keep in contact with far-away friends.

14. Make the world feel at ease around you.

15. Walk with your head up.

16. Order a cheeseburger on the first date if you want to.

17. Never, ever bite your nails.

18. Swipe on some lipstick, put on your leather…

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Hashtag My Awkward Life

Every year the University of Hipsterville hosts 20 Japanese students on campus for two weeks. Considering my weird love and fascination with the Japanese, I have always enjoyed these two, long-awaited weeks. The level of awkwardness on our campus rises from a 4 to a solid 9 the second the Japanese exchange students step foot at our school and I fucking love it. It’s hysterical and oddly puts me at ease. Finally, someone else is tripping more often and doing more awkward shit than I am.

Yesterday in my Japanese class, the exchange students joined us. Stereotypically enough, all of the Japanese students were shy and nervous and same goes for myself and all of the nerdy hipsters enrolled in Japanese class. I am extremely uncomfortable with long amounts of silence and nervous people so I do EVERYTHING I can to be silly, talk a lot, ask questions, and show energy in hopes of encouraging other people to follow along.

And as always, it was a complete and utter failure. 

As a class we did an activity to teach each other idioms and phrases that don’t make sense literally in English and Japanese. The professor went first and provided an example “It’s raining cats and dogs”. The Japanese students oohed and ahhhed over the explanation of this phrase’s meaning in our everyday expressions. Then the professor opened it up for students to give other similar examples.


And not for you know, a few moments… But for like, FOR-EVV-ERR.

I could feel it, the pressure was building and I wasn’t going to be able to tolerate it for much longer. Like a tea pot on the kettle (which I do not actually know what that’s like…. but you’re picking up what I’m putting down) I finally erupted.

“OK, OK! I have one!” I announced proudly and probably a little too loudly. I made my way to the front of the class. Why? I could have just fucking stayed where I was, everyone could see and hear me, especially when my loud voice boomed suddenly and randomly. But shit I was already halfway up there before my mind caught up to what my legs were doing. There I stood at the front of the class.

“Whhhhy. The. Fuck. I’ve gone and done it again” I thought to myself. 

“In English, there’s been this thing and it’s like a fad-wait! You probably don’t know what fad is… ok, um… OK!” I proceeded to start over… “Ok, in English, there’s been this thing and it’s been really popular. It’s called YOLO,” I sounded it out to the class like I was speaking to a bunch of mentally challenged kindergartners. FUCK I’m so God damn awkward, just push through Sara, push through! “So YOLO stands for You Only Live Once and people like, say it when they do dumb things.”


“Uhh, like you know, ok I’m going to jump off this building now so- YOLO! And it’s like, a thing in English and on Twitter. Do y’all tweet? People will be like, #YOLO for all sorts of dumb things” Why? Why the hell? Of all examples possible, I just told a class of 20 Japanese students that Americans jump of buildings and scream YOLO because its “like, a thing”. I’m so done.

“Ohhhhh-kay then,” the professor chimed in awkwardly. “Thank you, Sara. That was um, nice, thank you”. I slumped back to my seat awkwardly and that when “the bully”, Phillip that I so fondly hate on in previous posts said the rudest, yet potentially accurate statement that caused my cheeks to visibly flush red with embarrassment and rage.

“That was such an embarrassment to all Americans.” 

BRB hiding under my desk now. I hate everything. Especially Phillip.

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Was it even real?

A lot of surreal things happen throughout one’s life. There have been countless times in the past year where I have looked back and wondered if those things actually happened and if my memory truly serves the reality I experienced. Countless times.

I have spent this past week on an “Alternative Spring Break” through the University of Hipsterville. My trip’s focus was Inner City Education in New York City. We spent most of our time at a KIPP Charter School in Harlem. After one week, I gained so much from this experience and I realize what I have learned more and more each day. Every morning it is like being hit in the face with a brick. Everyday I see and understand a little bit more about myself and about the world around me because of this immersion experience. Every day I gain something, but every day I question what even happened as if it was all a dream, far away and distant in the depths of my memory.

On the Alternative Spring Break we are asked to do a technology fast. No cell phones. No internet. No blogging. WOMP. I missed being Sara Wildes and having this outlet, but I journaled and I plan on transcribing and uploading ASAP. During this technology fast, I was cut off from communication with my parents, who have gone bat shit crazy in the past two weeks. Although it was phenomenally beneficially for me to get distance from the stressful situation revolving around my dad’s mental health issues and family’s recent relocation from Europe back to the United States, I also am questioning my own reality that I once accepted as the truth.

Did my dad intention try to end his life? Was it an accidental combination of alcohol and sleeping medicine? Did it even happen to an form of an extreme at all? Has the story been dramatized through my mother’s perspective or in my own head out of fear, worry, and jumping to conclusions?

What even happened, if anything even happened at all? I may never truly know, despite the relentless questions I keep pouring upon my mother. But then again, do I want to know?


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15 Struggles People Who Bottle Up Their Feelings Understand


Thought Catalog

Community: Season 3Community: Season 3

1. It may be exhausting but you can put on Oscar worthy acting performances for days, weeks or even months at a time, pretending to be okay with people and things that are actually stressing you out & driving you crazy. You’re basically a super dedicated, unpaid method actor.

2. Giving attitude here and there is a survival mechanism you use to avoid exploding. It’s a way of slightly sedating a potential blow up temporarily. Think of it like slowly unscrewing the cap of a soda so the carbonation doesn’t cause a massive, fizzy mess and overflow out of the bottle.

3. Thinking that your feelings are foreign to everyone else. When you see yourself as somewhat of a Martian, it’s easy to refrain from expressing what’s inside because you’re fairly certain nobody wouldn’t understand anyway.

4. In modern dating there are a lot of games being…

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