In many coming of age films, there is a scene where a teen thrusts their head out the window and screams into the wind to emphasize the freedom they feel in that moment. I had a similar experience—minus my head sticking out the window—last week as I began my five-day exploration of Maine.
I was recently out for a drive through the hills surrounding the town where I grew up—there isn’t a lot to do in rural New York—when I passed the place of an unforgettable experience. I checked back through my posts and realized I wrote about the memory, so I’ve decided to share it today. It was a 2017 post titled That Time a Permitted Driver and a Pastor Crashed Near a Former Insane Asylum, and, as the title suggests, it is quite the tale.
All weekend, I went back and forth about what to write for today’s blog post. I initially thought I’d hop on here to share a comedic take of my homemade Panda Express experience from this weekend, which involved three failed batches of chicken batter and way too much ginger. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that would require me to ignore the growing COVID-19 pandemic that is spreading worldwide…
“You don’t know how to enjoy yourself. Americans, you work too hard; you get burned out. Then you come home and spend the whole weekend in your pajamas in front of the TV.”
I am well aware that starting a blog post with an Eat Pray Love quote all but admits that I am a middle-aged soccer Mom trapped in the body of a young man, but I couldn’t resist since the quote perfectly ties into the theme of today’s blog post.
Many people who grew up in the Northeast probably remember the euphoria of rushing downstairs on a wintery weekday to discover that school had been canceled. I, on the other hand, remember quite the opposite: an anticlimactic feeling of trudging downstairs on a snowy school-day to sit at the dining room table and work on my assignments. The difference? Being homeschooled.
A little less than two years ago, I could be found sitting in my bedroom frantically trying to figure out what to write about before midnight. No, I wasn’t experiencing a bizarre Cinderella in the cornfields of Ohio scenario; I just had to get something posted so I could keep my goal to “Publish a blog post once a week.” Ultimately, I wrote about books, and while it was nothing earth-shattering, it ranks as one of my favorite posts because it kept my goal going, which ended up producing some of my most cherished blog articles.
As of eight days ago, I officially became a twenty-five-year-old. Since it’s often viewed as a milestone year, I considered using this post to wax poetic about how I’m now a quarter of a century old. But after some thought, I realized that’s probably been done before, so I should instead just go ahead and share this year’s list of goals…
It’s been 144 days since I wrote Thank U, Next (the blog post, not the chart-topper sung by Ariana Grande). And while I wish I could come on here and write about how the past few months have been full of aha moments and unwavering positivity, I’d be lying if I gave that impression.
Having recently made my way back into the world of academia, I decided to take a stroll down memory lane by leafing through some of the papers I wrote during my time as an undergraduate student. One that stood out to me was a book summary I wrote about Susan Cahalan’s bestselling memoir Brain on Fire.
Well, I did it. I finished an intimidating book. Kind of. Let me explain. I challenged myself a few weeks ago to read the 1847 classic Vanity Fair in eight days. It was ambitious, and I did it. Again, kind of.