(no subject)
It's funny to think about this time last year. Last winter I had no idea that I would be sitting in an armchair in the library, drinking coffee at Swarthmore - and decidedly not writing an art history paper. Beyond the fact that I decidedly wanted to go to Chicago at that point in time, my notion of Swarthmore was hugely different than what it is now. Moments like this (quiet, mildly academic ones with somewhat dreary overtones, which really consume most of my time when I'm not in class or asleep) never really factored into my perception of how my day to day life would actually be. It seems so far off that I was waiting anxiously for letters to come this time last year, studying for calculus tests, wearing a uniform, sitting in class seemingly all the time, waking up no later than six every morning. And now I'm here. I'm wearing Marjorie's boots right now, and, I mean, a year ago, I didn't even know Marjorie existed.
A couple days ago, a friend of a friend recently asked me to describe my favorite parts of my school so that she could decide whether or not she wanted to apply (which in retrospect seems silly because applying doesn't mean deciding - although I overanalyzed the whole process, too). I realized that, largely, my reasons for being happy here are much the same as the reasons I chose it - academia, coziness, friendly people, some semblance of social consciousness. But I think what that actually means now that I'm living it is much different. And I thought, in my naivete, that of course I would be happy all of the time here, which most definitely is not the case. In some ways, I'm much less happy than I was in high school ... but I'm happier about my unhappiness.
And then, of course, there are moments like lunch in Sharples today where I just feel amazing. I was talking to a guy in my philosophy class about today's discussion (Sandra Bartky, feminism, the problem with media standards, man jokes), and he said that he was glad that he took the class if only for what he has gleaned in an understanding of sexism and where women are coming from. I think I glowed.
I bought a book today, White Teeth by Zadie Smith; the first paragraph looks promising. I've hidden it rather conspicuously away (top of my shirts drawer, orange cover poking out just a little bit) until winter break.
A couple days ago, a friend of a friend recently asked me to describe my favorite parts of my school so that she could decide whether or not she wanted to apply (which in retrospect seems silly because applying doesn't mean deciding - although I overanalyzed the whole process, too). I realized that, largely, my reasons for being happy here are much the same as the reasons I chose it - academia, coziness, friendly people, some semblance of social consciousness. But I think what that actually means now that I'm living it is much different. And I thought, in my naivete, that of course I would be happy all of the time here, which most definitely is not the case. In some ways, I'm much less happy than I was in high school ... but I'm happier about my unhappiness.
And then, of course, there are moments like lunch in Sharples today where I just feel amazing. I was talking to a guy in my philosophy class about today's discussion (Sandra Bartky, feminism, the problem with media standards, man jokes), and he said that he was glad that he took the class if only for what he has gleaned in an understanding of sexism and where women are coming from. I think I glowed.
I bought a book today, White Teeth by Zadie Smith; the first paragraph looks promising. I've hidden it rather conspicuously away (top of my shirts drawer, orange cover poking out just a little bit) until winter break.