Let your heart hold fast
For this soon shall pass
Like the high tide takes the sand
– Fort Atlantic, “Let Your Heart Hold Fast“
Does anyone remember when I used to write TMI Friday letters? No? That’s probably good, because they weren’t very good at all. These probably won’t be either, but that’s okay.
Welcome to Letters from the Hedge, a project to help me remember my last year-and-a-half of college. (School starts in two weeks, by the way.)
In any case, since my cohort is graduating in May and I won’t be, it’s about time for me to start steering away from Facebook. Until I took social psychology last year, I thought that being sad and angry after spending too much time on Facebook was just a symptom of me being a terrible failure of a person, when actually feeling like that is completely normal. People tend to post only the highlights of their lives on Facebook, and if you go to an elite university like I do, “highlights of people’s lives” tend to include things like studying abroad in Europe, ecotourism in Africa, scoring awesome internships, and going hiking with beautiful, popular significant others. Did I sound bitter?
It’s because I am I didn’t mean to.
My point is, social networks tend to skew one’s view of reality. Moving on.
Within my own reality, I just moved into my new dorm room for this year, and it’s looking pretty good. I took a picture of it just after I’d finished moving everything in but before I covered the walls with posters and pictures.
I know, right? Maybe I should be an interior decorator.
I turned on comments for the first time in the year or so that this blog has been around. I hope I won’t end up regretting it. There have been no ugly or mean-spirited comments this time around – yet- so there’s that.
Today, I went to the coffee shop and the bookstore. I will never understand why I “recharge” so fully by spending time alone on Saturdays, and I will never understand why my spending time alone seems to concern other people so much. It’s easy for me to get overstimulated by interacting with too many people in a short period of time, or conversely, interacting too often with a few people, so by the time the weekend rolls around I’m generally exhausted.
There’s something so soothing about wandering around the shopping center I’ve grown to know so well, ordering the coffee I always do, and squeezing into my favorite nook in the bookstore. I live in the middle of a huge, dangerous, vibrant city, but this neighborhood is affluent and predictable. There’s a time and a place for changing the world but sometimes it’s just nice to feel like you’re home.
Since work starts at 9 instead of 8 these days and since I’ve grown tired of Facebook, Tumblr, and my TV shows, I’ve been listening to … get this … NPR. Is this what it feels like to be an adult?? Should I be expecting to get grey hairs now? In any case, although I’m not interested in much of Morning Edition and quite frankly can’t understand a lot of it, it’s yet another form of auditory comfort.
In just a few weeks, my three roommates will move in and this quiet suite will come back to life once again. I’ll have to start cramming for immunology and chemistry, attending psychology experiments, and analyzing poetry. But for now, things are quiet and small. I feel like a little metal box full of light. And that’s a good way to begin healing.