Letter from the Editor 01.25.2022

I once told a friend that my life is like a game of pastel Tetris: I hope desperately that I can arrange all the pieces before time runs out. I sandwich internship applications between classes and production nights, reserving whatever time is left for some semblance of a self–care routine.

But gamifying my schedule doesn’t solve the underlying problem: There’s just too much on it.

People often underestimate how hectic being a young adult is, myself included. I rarely get a whole day off per week, and I trick myself into believing that’s normal because all my friends do it too. We run ourselves into the ground searching for the best way to use this weird liminal space between childhood and adulthood, and we hope that once we pass the finish line somehow everything will settle down.

But things only pause when you make them. I’ve learned that no one will block out an hour for me to eat lunch or give me a day off to schedule a dentist’s appointment—I have to reserve that time for myself and treat it as sacred. No one will ever force me to take a real break, but just because I don’t have a boss bumping it as an action item doesn’t mean it’s not a priority. 

No longer collecting different colors and shapes to fill the matrix, I have to make peace with leaving a few empty spaces at the end of each week. If I don’t, I risk losing myself to the game.

This week’s issue is about carving out time for ourselves. Our staff book roundup is a reminder that reading is restorative, and our piece about making playlists shows how music can help us reflect. Our feature explores Penn Farm, an urban farming project that’s cultivating its own pocket of quiet on a campus otherwise brimming with noise. Most importantly, this issue asks: What does it really mean to make the most of our time?