A Letter from the Editor

So, here we are. In front of our computers yet again. Did you have a good day at school? Or, rather, at your desk. Or on the couch. Or in your bed. 

Hey, no judgement. You’re having to do school from home, so you may as well be comfortable. Some of us enjoy school from home– we get to sleep in later, we are out of classes before 2:00, and we don’t need to change out of our pajamas. 

And yet, some of us hate the current system– our days bleed into one another, each the same shade of beige. Meandering monotony marches on. And our wifi sucks. 

But at least we are here. The vast majority of us have gotten our hands on some form of useful technology and have been able to log into classes. Maybe even get some work done. It’s good– great– necessary and amazing– that we get to have an education.

I have found that things which I previously deemed chore-like (maybe even boring at times) like school, getting groceries, and exercising, have taken on completely new meanings in the past six months. Without school, I know close to nothing, and my social life is moot. Getting groceries is now an activity, and I like to admire the beauty of the fresh fruits. Exercising is no longer a thing I would maybe get to that week– I need it now to feel good, because how often do I get to stand up and do something anymore? 

Those are all good things, once you consider them in context. Even though considering the context of it all– everything going on– is not something I actively like to do. 

I hope you haven’t been too hard on yourself. About any of this, all of this. 

When I get that crushing feeling we all get sometimes and I can’t escape my own head, I imagine a narrator. Just like a narrator in a book, who speaks in third person and can only describe the things she sees. She can’t read my thoughts or offer any advice, but she sees the world for what it is: unbelievably large where millions of living things exist, all milling about together. 

I don’t know who needs to hear this (though, I think on some level, all of us do), but the world contains so much matter and it can’t all exist in your head. Three, maybe four things at once is all you’re responsible for. Anything above that is an itch you can’t scratch, a high-pitched buzzing which just won’t go away, and it must be banished in order to properly function. 

You’re a student, so you’ll go to classes. You’re a cashier, so you’ll stand behind your plexiglass shield and take people’s money. You’re a cook, so you make sweet things for your favorite people. You’re a dog-walker, so you’ll download an audiobook and take one of your favorite pups for a walk, popping on that mask which hangs off your ear as you pass someone on the sidewalk. 

You are just one person with only so much headspace. And when you can’t remember that– when your head feels so full that not even your last two brain cells have anywhere to sit– remember the narrator. 

Have a good week. Take a ten-minute walk. Do something you enjoy and sleep, just sleep. 

I’ll see you tomorrow,

Kylie Schwartz, Editor-in-Chief