For years the predominant mindset of brands has been to take the path of least resistance in reference to speaking up about hot button issues, but more and more companies are starting to voice their opinions with brands like Dick’s Sporting Goods, Nike, Airbnb, and most recently, Gillette taking a stand.
About 20 minutes ago I was laying in my bed, minding my own business, attempting to fall asleep when a nagging thought came into my mind. All of a sudden it was as if someone broke into my brain and turned on all of the lights leaving me wide awake.
How does one begin to sum up an entire month lived on a different continent? That is the question that has been on my brain for the past week or so. Every time I have had the urge to sit down and write something to commemorate the midway point of my time here in Sydney, I have had to stop myself because I couldn’t quite find the words to do it justice.
My freshman year of college was a whirlwind of emotions. Between a new school, new friends, and spending half of my summer studying abroad in London, my life was moving so quickly that I barely had time to adjust. Sophomore year was my time to find my place at Boston University. I learned how to cope with tough losses and changing friendships, started my first fancy adult internship in the city, and joined a sorority that enhanced my college experience more than I ever could’ve imagined.
Being 20 feels like you have every opportunity in front of you, but only half of the knowledge to make the most of it. Like the ripest apple in the entire orchard is right above your head but your ladder can’t seem to reach the full distance.
Have you ever noticed how, in almost any movie, the main character is only truly happy when they finally enter into an assumingely perfect relationship with their love interest? No Disney movie ever ends with the princess realizing how content she can be while single.
In the spring of 8th grade, I suffered through any middle schooler’s worst nightmare--a fight with my best friends. I’m sure if I could remember what this fight was about now, I would find it extremely trivial. But at the time, my world was imploding.
So that afternoon, I did what any distressed 13-year-old would do. I ran off the school bus, threw my backpack down on the kitchen table, made a beeline for the desktop computer, and started looking up college campuses.
The city was becoming more and more silent with each tick of the clock as London drifted deeper into the night. The warm June breeze could still be felt in the air even though it was well after midnight. Queensgate was lined with rows of homogenous white flats with arched entryways. The street was still and noiseless. Except for the house numbered 14.
Recently, my friends and I have been sharing pictures of ourselves from high school and middle school in our group chat to showcase our horribly awkward years. After spending a decent amount of time scrolling through old Facebook albums that documented how my life used to be, I found it hard to recognize the person I was looking at in those pictures. Despite getting my braces removed, having significantly less acne, and just generally growing up, I started to think about how much of a different person I have become on the inside as well.
When I think about my writing process the first thing that comes to mind is spontaneity. If you knew anything about me, this may surprise you. I am a planner through and through. My agenda is perfectly color-coded with all of my assignments for the semester, the desk in my dorm room is meticulously organized with not one pen out of place, and I make my bed every morning without fail. For some reason, writing has always been different for me.