I’m back! (Not physically but on the blog).
Last week, I flew back home to Pittsburgh. Two days later, I flew to North Carolina for rabbitholeathon, a weekend dedicated to wikipedia, library genesis, and notion. One overnight stay at the Reagan airport later, I flew back home and have been there since. (There were some complications and moralistic undertones to this decision, but I dwelled on it for nothing short of six hours, so I will turn my focus elsewhere).
It’s been long enough that I remember Spokes. Like some passive onlooker with faint recollections of a past—actually, their past. A month ago, I couldn’t even fathom an extended life devoid of adventure, or at least to the degree we were embracing each day. Yet, here I am, about to watch Forrest Gump with my family, adapted to a more sedentary, maybe even sustainable lifestyle of books, cooking, occasionally the gym, and random obligations.
What to make of this?
I’m slightly skeptical of stark changes in short bursts, and even more skeptical of cries that announce it. So here’s what I’ll say:
When we’re younger, I believe most of life is “getting your reps in.” Some people might call it exposure or practice. And depending on the thing, the reps are different. Some more obvious; others more ephemeral. In the gym, it’s doing more sets with more weights. To find your style, it’s buying and trying and returning. But to live life? It could be interning, traveling, or doing something that discards our central identity as students, the stories we harbor at bay. For me, I chose spokes: exposure to America—the canonical (like, East of Eden!), subversive, and everyday—and practice in belief. I don’t want to belabor the gym language, but to do something every day, for each rep to affirm that people are good, that acceptance is peace, and things are and will be just fine is special. A special way to end 18.
See you all in Pittsburgh,
Victoria