If you had come up to me in 2019 and said, “Hey, a year from now, you’re going to be quarantined in your room because of a worldwide virus that’s desecrating the world,” I would’ve replied with an awkward laugh, because that’s crazy. A worldwide virus? Desecrating the world? That’s ridiculous.
Well, we all know how that turned out.
The last two years of all of our lives have been, as I’ve stated beforehand, completely and utterly crazy. I truly believe there’s no better word that fits the narrative of starting new school years through laptop screens and Netflix playing in the background of Zoom calls.
According to an article published by the Psychiatric Times, when asked to describe the pandemic in one word, a common answer had been introspection. When you find yourself with more free time than you know what to do with, you tend to start thinking about anything and everything, which eventually leads into a rabbit hole filled with thoughts about yourself. I know for a fact that i’ve been doing a lot of introspection on myself, and to be honest, it hasn’t been pretty. I’ve always been an avid supporter of shoving all my feelings deep down until I inevitably die, but I suppose the world going insane is a good place to take a long hard look at myself and go, “Who am I?”
In the midst of all that introspection, I realized that the question of who my person is can be boiled down into two points. One, I’m an incredibly social person, which sucks. I get my joy from talking to my friends, going outside, and spending time with my family; getting all of that social interaction ripped away from me, as one can expect, didn’t really go well. Two, I need to have a purpose, something to do and live for, or I will literally go insane— and insane I went. The peak of my insanity was when I read all four hundred pages of The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo in one sitting, drank four cups of coffee, spilled an entire bottle of nail polish on my tiled floor, and then stayed awake for forty-two hours and crashing and burning by passing out for fourteen hours.
Yeah, let’s not talk about that.
My point is, without doing all that introspection, I never would’ve figured out how to pull myself together— and somehow, someone far beyond the clouds decided to bless and slap some sense into me, because I did pull myself together. Hooray, point to Zafirah for doing the bare minimum.
This is going to sound incredibly pretentious, and frankly, a little bit nerdy, but I pulled myself together by starting this club. Having a new project to sink my teeth into was exactly what I needed to get my out of my slump, or in the wise words of Jake Peralta from Brooklyn Nine-Nine, my “P-muls .” It satiated my itch for social interaction and re-ignited my creative side, and as I’ve stated multiple times beforehand, this project is my baby, and I’ve put a lot of (metaphorical) blood and (physical) tears into this thing. From both Vianca and me, we really hope you guys have as much fun reading our reporters’ articles as we did, and we hope you stick around throughout the year.
Welcome to The Student Record!
#coffeeaddiction
p-muls forever