Why I will Never Deactivate My Hunger Games Fan Account
I often find myself taking a rather cynical approach to life as I currently know it. Don’t get me wrong, there is good to be found everywhere. But between political warfare, celebrity clickbait, and ad targeting everywhere I look, I can’t help repeating the words of my grandmother when she was first introduced to ripped jeans:
“Is this what we’ve really come to?”
Today’s world of endless options and overstimulation makes it difficult to remember what life was like when Netflix was a vending machine and Justice was walking so PacSun could run.
When people ask me what my life was like growing up, it’s not uncommon for an adult worldview to blur my perspective. A nuclear home was not in my cards, and for a long time, I resented that. Yet, if I had been prompted the same way 10 years ago, I would have honestly talked about how good Honey Buns taste when you microwave them, and how I just started swimming at the YMCA (and am getting pretty good at it)… but it is kind of annoying how long the meets are.Â
I remember picking up frogs and drinking a Dunkin’ Blue-Raspberry Coolatta at the pool on summer New England weekends. I remember getting scolded by my fifth-grade teacher about reading “The Fault in Our Stars” under my desk during math block (till this day, still not a math fan… although maybe it’s because during its foundation, I was busy reading books). I remember playing Xbox when I got home from school, even though I had no business in a COD lobby— never mind the game. I remember the feeling of coming inside from playing on my dead-end street and taking the best drink of water I had ever tasted. I’ve begun to try to sit, recalling memories like these. No distractions, no rumination, just good ol’ reminiscing.Â
While little me experienced many things she probably shouldn’t’ve, she was so good at remaining free from overthinking, from expectations, from the stress around her; just free.
I am not hopeless. As I prepare to graduate, I’ve done a lot of thinking on how I can reinvigorate my 10-year-old mind into my 21-year-old life.
Whether it’s refusing to donate the Minecraft sword in my closet (even though it doesn’t exactly give coastal-grandmother-apartment vibes), flipping through “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie” as I pass by the children’s section at Target, or periodically typing in the username to my Instagram Hunger Games fan account— I am reminded that nostalgia is one of the easiest ways to see joy in the little things.
Because finding myself again is not for me, but for her.Â