Saturday marks one month since President Clayton Rose took a shotgun to the semester (rest in power Miss Bowdoin, 1794-2020), which means it has now been one month since I’ve felt any sense of agency. I’d like to think that I’ve kept some semblance of my college self together, but considering my tolerance is now half a White Claw and I can slowly feel myself going illiterate, that one might be a bit of a stretch. On top of all of this, I don’t leave my house unaccompanied anymore, I go to bed at like 10 p.m. and I’ve been on a strict diet of pasta and grilled cheese since I got home.
Now, if you had told any of this to Lily of six weeks ago, she probably would have responded with some shit like “omfggg that’s like the f***ing dream bro,” but considering I’m pretty sure I’m just 8 years old again, I can confirm that this is actually NOT the f***ing dream, bro. At this point I’m just waiting for iCarly to reboot so this thing can be a slam dunk on reliving my childhood. (Side note: Is Miranda Cosgrove alive? Was she just a fever dream? Shoot me a text if you know.) But such is not the case and I’m pretending I like Parks and Recreation so my family doesn’t start renting out my room. So, in the spirit of regression, I’ve decided to indulge every guilty pleasure that crosses my path because I know my third grade self would, and at least that bitch had some organically-produced serotonin.
I know I’m about to lose some major audience support with this one, but on god the best guilty pleasure I have indulged in this quarantine is listening to One Direction again. I kinda became an indie music snob in high school, and attending Bowdoin College in Brunswick, Maine, has honestly only made it 10 times worse (this is a public apology to anyone I ever forced to listen to Hippocampus or Snail Mail or something in that vein … I was too far up my own ass to know better). But redemption truly is a beautiful thing, and I am SHAMELESSLY listening to One Direction again.
I could probably (definitely?) get into a long spiel about how rejecting 1D was likely a manifestation of some internalised sexism/“I’m-not-like-other-girls” headassery, but I’m over it! I’m not going there! I’ve seen the light, and I want to talk about the incredible lyricism in “18” written by Ed Sheeran for 1D’s platinum album “FOUR” instead! In all seriousness though, if you were ever a Directioner, fire up your favorite album for old times’ sake. I just remembered Zayn a few days ago and had to have a moment of silence.
Another cute and quirky thing I’ve been doing this past month is taking pictures on my “Quarantine Camera.” The quarantine cam is a three-years expired disposable I found in my kitchen cabinet while looking for scissors, and I decided to document my family’s ~adventures in social distancing~ with it. As of right now, the camera is mainly photos of my half-asleep dog or me with my ear in a bowl of saltwater trying to nurse my infected cartilage piercing back to health, but I have high hopes for its future! I’m especially excited to see what the first shot on the roll is, because when I found it, one picture had already been taken. Updates to come luvs xx.