I don’t really have any anxiety surrounding flying, but airports themselves make me kind of nervous. I’m not sure if it’s the TSA factor, the fear of missing my flight, or the environment which manages to feel both fast-paced and monotonously slow at the same time. Also, they smell funny.
Storage is really just an advanced, live-action version of Tetris. If you win, your fridge gets to survive.
I hate unpacking. I hate it so much that I got it over with in three hours.
There are two types of summer story jealousy. The first is the actual, visceral feeling of “I wanna be you,” or at least “I wanna do that” (ex: me talking to people who were dancing in Paris). The second involves having no personal desire to do what that person did, but still feeling your comparative lack in the coolness/excitingness/impressiveness/successfulness departments (ex: me talking to people who were interning at Google and JP Morgan).
I’m only mildly jealous though, because I had a pretty good summer, and I think I’m the only person here who is legitimately excited to go back to school.
Reminder: New York is delicious and too expensive.
Today I went to Steps to take a ballet class, but got there late and decided to take a jazz class 30 minutes later. It ended up being a super sexy style, and all the other women were wearing heels. I was trying really hard to be sexy in socks. I think it was kind of cute.
If Obama is actually coming to Columbia I guess we’ll be able to accurately say things like “I have to write a paper tonight . . . Thanks, Obama!” or “Just bombed my midterm . . . Thanks, Obama!”
College admissions are not controlled by some magical, divine force. No matter what they tell you about ending up where you’re “meant to be,” it’s really just people and numbers on the other side of the process.
That said, most people don’t need a flawlessly-matched college to have a positive experience.
Moving, distance, semi-independent living, urban navigation, and time management are not nearly as hard as people make them out to be.
It’s one thing to hear older artists talk about how they don’t care about success or external validation and like the idea, but it’s another to genuinely feel this way about myself. I need some distance from the constant panic and uncertainty of young adulthood before I can get to that place, and that’s okay.
There is more than one way to be social.
You know how people slightly older than you seem to have it all figured out. They don’t.
Everyone’s life looks way more exciting/perfect on Facebook.
It’s totally okay to feel lots of different things simultaneously. Acknowledging this make every one-word answer to “How are you?” feel painfully dishonest.
Everyone is shamefully ignorant about something. Google helps.
Not all snow is adequate for snowman building.
I don’t actually know what my parents are thinking.
People have no idea what I’m thinking either. Explaining is important.
Have a great new year, people. Or an average one. No pressure.