Mid-Semester Reflection

I generally like to write a quick post looking forward at each semester before it begins, but I've been enjoying this one a bit too much to have written yet. (Which is not to say I write now because I'm not enjoying it, but rather because I turned in four infuriatingly large assignments last week, and would not want less-than-optimal results returned to me next week to color the view of my classes presented in my reflection.)

To say this semester has been a "blur" would be lazily to fall back on an overused phrase and an inaccurate representation. This semester has been a blast of color, a slew of sound, and a barrage of contentment. When asked why, I say because of a) classes and b) friendship, but I guess at the end of the year (or four) that's all that college is.
So first, my classes. I am taking four wildly different courses this semester, that nevertheless seem seamlessly to dovetail together, as things had a habit of doing in high school. Macroeconomics, Astrophysics, Existentialism, and Institutional Corruption fill my weeks with a delicious variety of information that I've been hungry for since arriving here. The theme of the semester appears to be "big ideas" and the thing each of my professors has in common is his humility despite his academic stature, a refreshing trait at Harvard.

These imbue my weekly schedule with a persistent energy, which is coupled with the meals I've been making it a point to schedule daily with friends from all around the school. The amazing people who surround us are sometimes overshadowed by the amazing resources we have access to, and it's my ongoing goal to work to balance the two.

Life with friends has been bolstered by the return of two of my closest friends on campus, who were away last semester and whom I didn't realize how much I missed until they returned. They've made me richer by a host of postcards each, and their presences have contributed deeply to the happiness of this semester.

A visit from my sister a few weeks ago allowed some slowing down and walking around and sitting and talking with people, something it's hard to find time to do sometimes unless you have as an excuse an adorable high school sophomore looking for inspiring conversation.

Things on the work front are exciting and busy: S&S has been asked to co-host a conference in Seoul, Korea this spring on sustainability in business, so that's how I'll be spending my last week of classes this semester (sorry, aforementioned professors).

When we return, I'll have the honor of doing a couple of readings at bookstores around Boston, where we'll be launching The Opposite of Loneliness, a collection of essays and stories written by my friend and role model Marina Keegan, published posthumously.

All in all, interesting, emotional, and exciting things are going on this semester, and every day is full of energy and adventure. I can't wait to see where these classes, these projects, and these people take me!

Pillow Talk

What if I let my hair keep track of time for me instead of my phone, lopped it off before any extra trying experience and let it track my strengthening through its growth. Maybe the most illogically iridescent outlooks were made for the most amusingly impossible situations, so my blessing is its own confusion. When do people become the real kind of people who tuck themselves into taxicabs and work demurely at desks? Will my mind still swim in sine waves when I'm older and I map out an ecosystem or schedule appointments for something that matters? Will I still shiver at night and hold all tension in my toes, strands falling around shoulders whose prior priority was "independence"? And how long will my hair be by the time I can make my own decisions?