I spend many a minute worrying. It's a lifestyle. Most of my waking moments are spent agonizing over topics as serious as the impending doom of our nation if a certain ill-mannered candidate is elected, as abstract as eternity or as silly as a sunburn. And frankly, it's exhausting. The number of terrifying institutional obstacles in the way can be suffocating, and a lot of the time, seemingly impossible to overcome. However, as I am writing this at 5:11 a.m. on yet another sleepless night, the cool breeze coming through my window into my muggy room reminds me that there are so many beautiful aspects of my life that I'm grateful for.
Friends
Friends that remind me that it's OK not to be sunshiny every second of the day. Friends that drop their 1 a.m. activities and dash over to my dorm because I'm freaking out about a rash. Friends that remind me that emotions are valid, no matter the cause. Friends that enthuse about musicals and murderous TV shows. Friends that drive (and get lost) a half an hour, just to get some Dairy Queen. Friends that bond over cringy memories of bad eyebrows and satchels from our middle school years. Friends that bond over new traditions, creating bonds that don't weaken across state borders. Friends that welcome me into their rooms, even when they have a million things on their to-do lists.
Home
Hometowns where individuality is celebrated. Where the arts are celebrated, not scorned. Where identities are validated, not infantilized. Lab theaters where late nights, greasy food, and loud music are aplenty. Offices with soft couches and engaging conversations. Basements with an absurd amount of fake grass and lanterns. Classrooms with caring, thoughtful teachers. Dorm rooms with sketchy carpeting and a window view of the pit.
Writing
Short stories packed with plot twists. Articles filled with frustration. Essays proving yet another old white dude is super sexist. Essays proving that even pieces written about food can be supremely sexist. More articles filled with frustration. Poems tinged with sadness. Articles filled with gratitude for the ability to express through written word.
I could go on about the delights of the perfect chicken caesar salad or painting my nails the most pleasing shade of mustard yellow, but I'll spare you the small things. The next time I freak out about the impending apocalypse or the patriarchy, I'll take a moment to remember all the blessings in my life. And then, I'll probably write another frustrated article. Tune in next week to find out!
