Letter from the Editor 10.03.18

Well kiddos, I'm back. After back to back special issues that monopolized Sabrina's entire fall semester and almost killed the rest of us, here I am returning to my little text box to share some drivelous buffoonery. 

Autumn said I should make this about the warm and cold fronts meeting and changing my aura. I wasn't sold on the idea, but coincidentally, it just started raining as I type this. But this is all secondhand information, since we don't have a window in this office.

Fall break is upon us, and I hope y'all are all on campus to pick up this copy of Street before you jet set, road–trip, or otherwise transport yourself out of UCity. And if you're not going anywhere, power to you. There's still stuff that's gotta get done around here in the meantime.

Senior year existential dread has started to rear its ugly head, and I've been able to successfully bat it away by filling my time with postgrad applications. It's hard to strike the balance between looking forward to fun senior year engagements and living in the moment–to–moment of your fourth year. Things feel simultaneously stale and ripe for rediscovery. Driven by a fear of leaving something unattended to, I've started to reconnect, sitting down with professors and acquaintances who I've been meaning to catch up with. I feel compelled to come full circle, and take advantage of what the school has to offer before I'm on my way out.

And time apart is also good for that. Soon, I'll be crammed in a car headed towards coastal Maryland in search of wild horses and maritime relaxation. Hopefully that will lead to some ponderous realization about how to maximize the rest of my second–to–last semester at the University of Pennsylvania. I can only hope, but maybe I'll read some good books and eat some oysters too.

Street will still be of course be on my mind all through Fall Break. I can never take remove this fixation. But as of recent, I'm feeling both liberated and trapped by the thought of leaving my post in two months time. And then I think, hey, Street is turning fifty next Friday, and she's still got it. I can only hope that I age as gracefully, and pursue answers like she has.