As lucky as I am to be on campus this semester, I can’t lie and say things haven’t felt strange.
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It’s 1989. Tonight is senior prom. You finally got the track star you’ve had a crush on for the majority of the year to notice you, and now, you’re going to prom together. You’re nervous but excited. Tonight is going to be the best night of your life; it has to be. You put on a pink dress and tease your hair like there’s no tomorrow. The bigger the better. Blue eyeshadow? You’ve got it. Put a scrunchie in your purse. You’re going to want to pull your hair up once you start dancing.
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If I am allowed one piece of advice, it is to not let yourself fall victim to your sadness. This is a highly hypocritical statement for me to make considering a couple weeks ago I was wholly swallowed by my sadness. The only significant thing to come out of my time in sadness’s stomach is this playlist. It is not your generic sad playlist because this one also has loneliness and emptiness!
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Howdy partner,
Grab your cowboy hat, your chaps, your spurs, and buck up for the saddest playlist East of the Mississippi. This is a playlist for all the cowboys out there who have lost their partners and are traveling by their lonesome through the wild, wild West we call life.
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At the beginning of what has felt like an eternal quarantine, I offered myself solace by thinking about my eventual return to the home I’ve found at Kenyon. As much as I love my home town, I’ve become my favorite version of myself as a result of my departure. Over the past few years, it’s become harder to define myself here, as I feel more separate from the self that I was before Kenyon. Still, as we’ve been stuck in these little pockets of memory, what was there to do but make peace with it?
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When I used to only listen to punk rock and drink vodka out of water bottles, I hated love songs so much that I got John Mayer banned from being played at the restaurant where I worked. Instead of “waiting on the world to change,” I got all of my friends to come in and write complaint cards about how everything was incredible except for the amount of John Mayer they’d been subjected to. After about a week, I never had to listen to that damn song again.
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7:31: How many times have you fallen in love during quarantine? No matter the answer: oh, that’s too bad.
7:31: Hold up, lemme take a sip of my iced coffee.
7:32: Okay, we’re back.
7:35: Ouch. My brain. My little frozen heart, warming.
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Well, in case you live under a rock, I’m here to tell you that the world has collapsed into chaos. It’s week #172539 of quarantine and each day seems to bring a new disaster. Now, all of my days are essentially melding into one like an absurd adaptation of Groundhog Day.
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my final post and contribution to wkco
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