Before I came here for college, I went back to my high school several times to practice. I got the most uncanny feeling whenever I saw the cars there, or the teachers walking out the building, or the band equipment scattered in the hallways. It didn’t seem right that kids were waking up at 6, like I had done for 4 years, and going to school while I was sitting in my pajamas wasting time at home.
For me, that part of my life was over, and I somehow assumed that it was for everyone else. I expected the world to move with me as I passed from home into a far more independent realm.
Since I’ve gotten here, I’ve come to terms with that. Just because I’m not in Katy, Texas doesn’t mean that Katy, Texas isn’t there anymore. I am not the world, and I am now in a separate bubble.
Life has been a lot different. Tons of activities and lots of studying to do, and with that comes sacrifices. I’ve become more aware of my methods of procrastination, and have cut some of the empty out of my life. I’ve also learned that some things I thought I couldn’t do without really weren’t that important to me.
But today, I had a relatively free evening. With the “New York Times” on my bed after being taken from the dining hall, I popped it open and began the ritual that I thought was reserved for 6:15 in the morning with my yogurt.
I’ve kept up with news. Thanks to the net, I get my daily emails from news websites. I watch “The Daily Show” and “The Colbert Report” online, and have even picked up the Times during lunch, glossing over the headlines while talking to my dormmates.
Today, I started with the crossword. Thankfully, Mondays weren’t rough, and with an assist from my roommate on a long clue, I filled it all in. Moving on, I read through several other interesting articles in all sections of the news.
It wasn’t anything I didn’t have a vague knowledge of. I knew the writers went on strike. I knew the Patriots beat the Colts. I knew there was trouble in Pakistan. When I actually read the articles, though, it became real.
Here at Stanford, my entire life is within a 4 minute bike ride. I’ve been into ‘Frisco once, and Palo Alto only thrice, though it’s just 10 minutes away. I just haven’t had to. Stanford has everything here. I don’t have to leave to live and have fun and deal with my life.
It, however, does seem really small. It’s absolutely a bubble. Even with the internet, a lot of what goes on doesn’t apply to me, and yet, it happens.
Reading the news felt great. Maybe I’ll keep it up, maybe I won’t. At least I know where I can find the rest of the world.
3 replies on “It Never Stopped Spinning”
Uh … maybe if you got out a little further, you’d find out that no one calls San Francisco “Frisco”. They call it San Fran. Frisco is somewhere else!
I actually picked up ‘Frisco (with the apostrophe) from a Sherlock Holmes short story I read years ago called “The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor.” I guess no one calls it that anymore, but they apparently did at one point (or so Doyle thought).
An entire NY times crossword?