We’re in a new year. If you haven’t already, please read the words that were not my own from the previous blog post. To reiterate from it though: the last 60 seconds that take us from New Year’s Eve to a new calendar year do not change me, and those seemingly pivotal 60 seconds did not result in a groundbreaking transition of who I am or where my goals lie. I am not here to run through a laundry list of goals, though. Trust me, it’s not that I don’t have goals; I would just rather not have to come back here December 2018 and have to delete this post simply because I failed to meet the expectations I set for myself.
I want to be a kid again.
I remember as a youngin’, I would volunteer to clean my mom’s purses; she always had those oversized ones that managed to get extremely messy as she attempted to squeeze all her life possessions in them. My award for cleaning was being able to keep any loose change I found. As someone who grew up with Polish parents who didn’t know allowance is a real thing, this was legit the highlight to fluffing up my piggy bank. My favorite finds of them all: the quarter.
It’s interesting how the uses of a quarter typically change over the years. As a kid, I collected quarters mostly to add to my bouncy ball collection but also to gamble which sticker I would get from those quarter slots that never seemed to follow any sort of theme or pattern. Came college, I no longer had access to my Mom’s purses, so I’d be doing nose dives for any loose quarters I could find just to ensure my clothes stayed clean.
I somewhat took a stroll down memory lane last night, as I went to watch Something Extra (one of Yale’s a capella groups) perform in Chicago. Their show made me realize how much I stupidly miss college: the stimulation of seminar discussions. talks with friends at every meal. traditions. endless reading. community. a support system. our campus. my Branford. frisbees flying. snowball fights & igloos. dfmo at toads. finding suitemates’ screw date. the silence of Sterling Library. ensuring student voices were heard. freedom. growth. student performances. impact felt. talent, so much of it. opportunities. planning spring fling. being strategic & anti- authoritarian because of Red Bull. the all-nighters that were a breeze then that are seemingly impossible now.
I want to be a student again.
As I near the big 2-5 in a few short weeks, I’m trying to ignore the nostalgia I felt last night and dodge the so-called quarter-life crisis. I’m in an industry where continued learning is encouraged, and I’m thankful for that. While I’m not making any sort of grand resolutions for the year, I’m hoping in another year I’ll be able to say that 25 was a good one.
Hawaiian Princess Pieces 