Individuality and the Pursuit of Eggs
Blogger: Maddy Farkas
I’m starting this blog post over a week in advance in hopes of ultimately creating the (self-deemed) “perfect post.” What constitutes a perfect post? I wish I knew. If I did, I would have written it back in September when I first began writing these things. I have already used the passive voice two too many times, so I’m off to a flying start. Maybe having a grammatically incorrect post is key. While that goes against my beliefs, it might be the answer. How are one too know?
Ok, that hurt to write, and it hurts even more to look at. Is this what it feels like to be on the writing staff for The Tonight Show with Jay Leno?
Right. Perfect blog post. Come on, Maddy. So far all I have accomplished is some fake bad grammar and a pop culture reference, and the latter was basically handed to me on a shiny, silver platter. (Rhyme!) Now it’s also occurring to me that I need to relate this back to Occidental. I will get there. Stick with me. In terms of a movie plot (because who doesn’t look at their life in terms of a movie?) I’m right about at the point where Andrew Garfield realizes he forgot to buy a carton of eggs for his dear, Aunt May. It’s time for me to acknowledge the task at hand and go out and do something about it.
Update: it’s been a week since I wrote all of that and I have yet to buy any eggs. Apparently purposeful distraction as a form of procrastination is one of my new favorite hobbies. This semester I’m finding myself with loads more free time, and I can’t determine whether it is due to a lighter workload or if I’m actually becoming more academically productive. Either way, I have been using my alone time to physically be alone. As opposed to first semester when the hustle and bustle of constantly being with friends and meeting new people was always on my mind, I’m treating this semester like the Beatles’ “Abbey Road”: a bit less fun but slightly more introspective and (hopefully) more successful.
Alone time is something to truly be cherished in college. This especially rings true for someone like me who comes from an only-child household and is used to being left alone for long periods of time. When the opportunity arises, I plug in my Christmas lights, put one of my favorite television shows in my DVD player, and tuck myself into bed. If it’s early enough in the afternoon that sporting events or primetime shows have yet to begin, I sit alone in the common room and play the piano for hours. Doing these things not only makes me feel slightly more independent than if I were to be slouching through six rounds of french fries with my friends in the Cooler, but it makes me feel more at home. (Although if I were home there would be a 25-lb cat impatiently gesturing for a food bowl refill at every turn.) Keeping to myself (or what my friends would label “sleeping through breakfast…and sometimes lunch”) consequently keeps me grounded. As much as I love human-to-human interaction, human-to-pillow often comes out on top.
When I first visited Occidental, I pictured myself doing “collegiate” things (whatever those may be), but more importantly I was seeing an older version of myself, something I was never able to do prior to being on this campus. There was one commonality between all of these visions, whether it being sitting in the quad reading a book, shuffling through the stacks in the library, or grabbing a coffee and going on a walk: I was always alone. Not once did I imagine myself being around a group of friends or really interacting with other humans, for that matter. This isn’t to say that I don’t appreciate and love spending time with the friends I do have, but it has recently become clear to me that I always looked at college as an individual experience, and having this realization at some point during the semester has led me to truly beginning my college career.
Ok, I grabbed the eggs and I am checking out at the market. Bringing home the bacon, just in the knick of time, Derek Fisher style. Excuse my cheap shot at mentioning my favorite athlete, but I needed to round off this laundry basket of pop culture references with something my dad will understand. (Yes, Dad, I know you listen to the Beatles, and maybe you got the Jay Leno joke. I don’t know. Either way this is my apology for something of your choice). This blog post came out a bit longer than the rest. Maybe length is the secret to having the perfect post? I’ll make my next one a mere sentence long and we’ll discuss further from there. Although writing this was probably a bit less rough than Peter Parker’s night, I think it’s safe to say that we both successfully brought home, at the least, an edible carton of eggs.