this is so college

I’ve sat down to write about my first month of college a couple of dozen times. It always ends with me slamming my laptop shut, unable to figure out what exactly I’m trying to say. I realized what was happening on my walk back to my dorm after taking my Italian midterm. I was holding my tea and stomping through the damp, running into people I love and feeling like absolute shit. I have only been trying to write about the good, trying to make every moment seem magical and shiny. I’ve been trying to write about college from an eagle-eyed, all-knowing point of view, but the reality is I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m in the thick of it. College is beautiful, but god is it messy. I’m figuring it out as I go.

In an effort of embracing both the beautiful and the grime, here’s a glimpse into the first half of freshman fall term:

I sit by the Willamette and watch how light dances on water. I’m trying to find the place in my heart where forgiveness lives. I’d tell past-me that forgiveness will come in waves. You don’t have to force it now. Just watch the river flow. The way it follows a steady course. The way it never stops.

I sit in front of Dave’s Hot Chicken and cry, big fat tears roll down my face and a group of seniors tell me it’s going to be okay. The night I was assaulted, I was wearing yellow socks with bumblebees on them. The next day, I walk myself down that same street and buy a coffee that burns my mouth but I drink anyway. My whole life has been a practice of reshaping my narratives. This time is no different. I bake pumpkin bread with my friends and watch volleyballs soar through the air and think to myself, it’s okay. I will get through this.

I go to the Saturday market every week. I buy flowers and dry them in my dorm so they may stay orange and purple forever. I buy a cinnamon roll the size of my face and share it with the people I meet. I watch drum circles form. The air smells thickly of weed and crepes. They call it the Dirty Eug for a reason, but the Saturday market makes me think that it’s all of our weird parts that make a place beautiful.

*We ran outside our dorm to catch this sunset*

My friends make fun of me when I say “this is so college.” I don’t know how to describe what I mean when I say that, but I know it when I feel it. Sometimes, life feels so full of both the wisdom and the stupor of being young. College means holding each other up when we need it. It’s keeping your door open and learning how to be vulnerable and making friends. It’s having a whole trove of crushes and then yelling about them with your friends while you walk through the pioneer cemetery at one am. It’s crowding in your neighbors’ room because they have a couch. It’s finding your people. College is baking for each other in the communal kitchens. It’s Kardashian nights in our room on Thursdays. It’s all of us cramming in the bathroom to cut our bangs. It’s sitting on the stoop of Safeway when your frat flu turns into bronchitis. It’s learning how to ask for help. It’s sunset car rides when the windows are down and the music is loud. It’s eating soup on the floor. It’s watching the tree outside your window reinvent itself every morning, transforming from green to gold to a burning red. It’s learning to enjoy the process of becoming yourself.

Don’t get me wrong, college is also a lot of schoolwork, but what’s the fun in writing about that?

*Our faces knowing we are going to leave the game before halftime to warm up and make chai*

At the end of yoga class, the instructor says, “Throughout this practice, you’ve set down all the things you’ve been carrying. It’s your choice now what you want to pick back up. You get to decide what you want to be filled with.”

Mostly, I just want to be filled with love.

TTYL <3

Maya

ps check out my neighbor/sister/bestie Julia’s website

finding Pop everywhere the road takes me

August: on Taylor Swift, infatuation, & summer’s last hurrah