"There happen to be whole, large parts of adult American life that nobody talks about in commencement speeches. One such part involves boredom, routine and petty frustration." -David Foster Wallace
Having been out of college for nearly three months, I am starting to understand what he meant in that quote. I know that three months isn't nearly enough to really get it, but I can at least imagine it from the taste of the real world I've had. I was a little depressed during the first few weeks of being out of school, and I'm just now feeling able to talk about it. I've settled into a new schedule of working, commuting, and reading for fun. I wanted to share the beginnings of a journal entry I wrote last December:
Jaunito's Fiesta Bag of Tortilla Chips
I've graduated, but it's not much of a party at the kitchen table on this late December day. No snow. no work. Just a couple bananas with brown spots and a bottle of wine. I'm feeling older too, but not in the expectant and "mature" way you feel on the threshold of 18 and 21. now 23, but slowly rounding on 24 and sitting here, stains on my sweater, a novel propped open with one hand, shoveling chip after chip in with the other hand because the salsa's too hot to stop. When the party is over, I'll loaf back to bed.
Thinking Back to December, I'm wondering about the nature of nostalgia. I wonder if it's only when the future weighs heavily upon us that we escape by looking back fondly upon the past, to the glory days. It's an escapism on par with the kind people seek in drugs, or exercise, or work, or literature. But, like the john Green said in Looking for Alaska, there's also a kind of nostalgia in imagining the future. I think we get too caught up in where we were and where we're going, and both are dangerous because we forget to live in the present (wow that sounded cliche). The universe demands to be noticed, so I've decided to be okay with where I am right now, graduated and living in Reno, and feeling things as they demand to be felt.
G-span
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