When I was a little kid, my older sisters told me I was never going to touch the bottom of the pool. I wasn’t “old enough.” It’s amazing how memory works. I forget so much of my early years, but I vividly remember swimming down those 10 feet, floatie around my waist, curling my fingers against the small white tiles—just to spite them.
“I love talking to second-semester seniors because it’s the equivalent of talking to senior citizens in hospice. You guys will say anything that’s on your mind.” These were the words my Love and Indoctrination Capstone professor, Thomas Kaplan-Maxfield (or TKM if you’re pals), told my class. We were preparing for a discussion on how the world indoctrinates us into thinking a certain way.
I was born in Boston and grew up just north of the city. But being from New England does not make me rude. It’s more complicated than that.
I think we are the first generation where sex is less awkward to talk about than dating. In order to not further risk my chances of getting into heaven, I’ll be talking about the latter—I’m told BC priests read these articles every now and then. Strap in! In case you didn’t know, Merriam-Webster defines date as “the brown, oblong edible fruit of a palm (Phoenix dactylifera).”
I swear that I’m a good driver. I stop at red lights. I use my turn signal. Every accident I’ve been in has never been found to be my fault. That said, there was one time I slammed into a fence post on my way home from work.
The first thing I noticed without my headphones was how dependent I am on the distraction of music. I live in a quaint and homey Mod, and even something as simple as walking to the Walsh laundry room—a one-and-a-half minute journey, at most—always required my AirPods. I grew uncomfortable doing so without them. The walk was shorter than the length of a song, yet I loved the reassurance that I would not have to talk to anyone I ran into.
Two summers ago, I had one of the best nights of college I can recall. My buddy Seamus and I were invited to our friend’s 21st birthday party. And—full disclosure—we were the James Michael Tylers of the cast of Friends. We knew it and our friend knew it. We were the outside crew. But, knowing where we stood, we agreed it could be fun, so why not go?
As Boston College students, we possess an unyielding mentality to do things that we might not want to do because everyone else is doing them. Our mob mentality makes us social climbers rather than true friends.
There is something deeply soothing about uncomfortability.
Through challenging my insecurities head-on, I’ve grown to derive more fun from the things that I used to hold myself back from in fear. Seeing each interaction as “for the bit” makes life so much more interesting.
I find myself starting my final school year and its two remaining semesters. I intend to fully embrace the thirty weeks or 210 days I have left.
