I am sad to say but I totally forgot Spring Break was a thing. Please don’t judge me. It was just with assignment after assignment, class after class,and all of the events of Harvard life, the break just slipped my mind until the week before when a good friend reminded me. So obviously, I didn’t have an exciting plan to set off to a beautiful island filled with sand and sun.
So what else was a young Harvard student to do with more than a week off? I could have stayed on campus but I didn’t. I love Cambridge, but it was bringing me down. I was always thinking about all the projects that were coming up and the internships I have yet to apply for. Plus I was slowly realizing that I’m a second semester junior with more than half of my Harvard experience over (YIKES!).
So I needed a break from Mass Avenue. Since I am lucky enough to live just 4 hours from school, I went home to New York City. After the long BoltBus trip, I did the one thing I wanted to do the most… I slept for eight hours.
I would have slept the entire time if I could. But for some reason, I decided to look at the old things I hoarded from my childhood. The old Barbie dolls including a Britney Spears doll I got from a family member. The collages and dioramas. But most important were all the documents I had written, from essays to stories to poems.
And I realized… they were not good. Though I was not expecting a long awaited Academy Award for my work like Leo, I was surprised that I had allowed myself to write these things in the first place.
I couldn’t help but laugh then cry then laugh again.
I had forgotten about my old dreams and I started to remember all the things I cared about. Sometimes in the frantic rush of being in Harvard, you forgot about the reasons that guided you to that point. Even if they went in a weird world of crazy, impossible ideas. My outrageous plans included having a tea party with everyone in order to achieve world peace because I watched Miss Congeniality. Sometimes, you need the silly to laugh and be thankful for where you are now.
So read your old work. The old poems, love letters, essays. Try to remember the person you were and reflect.
As for me, I’m never ever going to going to show the world those poems or pieces of art. But I will make sure to always remember the feelings I had when writing them.
And I will take this joy back to the back to the place that is my second home, and back to the people I love. And the work… yeah I can’t forget that too.