Welcome to the 27th edition of Content Nausea. You can read No. 26 right here. No. 25 was one of my favorites, and it is right here. Please let me know what you think. Thank you for being here. Here is the welcome blog.
During the final month of college, the journalism school at Maryland threw a reception for the graduating seniors. Being the enterprising seniors that we were, Dan and I pregamed the gathering in 1412 before walking from Commons up to Knight Hall. One of us had a little more than the other.
Along the way, we crossed paths with another classmate who was headed in that direction. She had considerably more school spirit than both of us, and once during my freshman year, she came by my dorm looking for my roommate and wrapped me up in a long conversation. I ended up forgetting about my laundry in the basement, and someone threw it on top of a couple dryers.
“I can’t believe it’s been four years,” she said.
“I can,” I responded, probably a little too quickly.
I think about this interaction more than I should, and the thing I focus on the most (other than if I was being a jerk) is whether it actually felt like four years. A lot happened. At that point in May 2014, I was about to move to California, and there was a misguided part of me that seriously thought there was a good chance I would never come back to the East Coast. The possibilities seemed that endless. (During my drive to California — we were in Utah, I remember — the newspaper I was going to announced it was having significant financial difficulties, so lol).
The jump from August 2010 to May 2014 was significant, but there was never a time during college where I feel like the time got away from me. There were things that I wanted to do at Maryland but never did. That was mostly because I was doing other things that I wanted to do. In those four school years, I packed in four years of experiences, though I guess I was officially a graduate by the time I broke into the then-Byrd Stadium for the first time. And I was fine with that.
I turn 28 tomorrow, and it feels like it’s been 28 years. Even more so, the past year has felt like a year. I was talking to a friend recently, and she asked how I felt about my birthday coming up. I said it feels like it’s about that time. I’m never going to defeat time, so I’m trying to swim with the current instead of against it. I did a lot in the past year, and I have done a lot in the past 28 years. There is plenty more I wish I did, but the reasons I didn’t do this things were mostly that I was doing other things. That’s how it works. I don’t try to fight it. I do not want to be 27 ever again, and that’s OK.
My knees are going to hurt more, my alcohol tolerance will continue to decrease and I’ll get further away from the optimism where I thought my future might be in Orange County. I’m ready to turn 28.
And I know there are parts of me that will never change. I took a socially distanced drive to Maryland on Monday to visit my parents, who became the only people I have had an in-person conversation with over the past eight weeks other than the guy who owns the cider bar.
Since I no longer have an E-ZPass, I had to take the long way on Route 1 through Southeastern Pennsylvania — a highlight was a local fire vehicle with a “Bitch please, I’m from Delco” bumper sticker — into Cecil County and then into Harford County. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the trees were vibrant green. On the way back, I drove out Route 22 to Route 136, headed north, glided down the hill past the Churchville Test Area and then floored up the big hill before bursting out into the rolling hills of northern HarCo.
“The House That Heaven Built” by Japandroids was blasting in my car. That’s a part of my I’ll hang on to for as long as I can.
When they love you, and they will,
Tell 'em all they'll love in my shadow
And if they try to slow you down,
Tell 'em all to go to hell
Anyway, here are some things I learned or re-discovered or experienced as a 27-year-old, and if you are interested in celebrating with me tonight, Matt and I are firing up the JQBX room between 9 and 10 p.m., so here is the URL, or just message me and I’ll send it to you (you have to have Spotify premium to make it work):
Do not move during football season if football is your job, and definitely do not move twice.
Global pandemics are wild.
Running outside is good, even if it is more difficult on the aforementioned knees.
It took a couple years of thinking about it and only a couple months of doing it, but yoga is good. Thank you, Adriene.
My editor has informed me I need to stop using the word “regression,” and I appreciate his place in my life.
I can, actually, grow a mustache.
My friends are good.
Emo is good.
I can pull off karaoke all right, and I can even run a karaoke night for a little while if left to my own devices.
Achieved a legitimate bucket list experience covering a Packers game at Lambeau Field last September, even if the whole driving-two-hours-in-the-middle-of-the-night-in-the-rain-from-Green-Bay-to-Milwaukee-to-catch-a-flight thing got a little hairy.
Long flights are good times to read books, though who knows when anyone will fly again.
Time happens, and it’s OK.
Thank you for reading the 27th edition of Content Nausea. It was my last at age 27. Thank you, and see you soon.
I saw a name in the graveyard that I knew
Glowing, like the neon in a lounge light
Spelled just the same as the twinge that crawls through you
As it, passes slowly through a fast night
Dear everything I've harmed the fault lies on my tongue
And I, take it holy as a last rite
I picked away all the gray hairs that I'd grown
That remained on the
Outside
—D.G.