Random post #2

I’m sitting on a dirty laundry floor, waiting for my clothes to finish their cycle. The constant “woosh” of the washer’s and “thrum” of the dryers do not allow me to forget my place or the moment I am in. My predictable procrastination persists in all aspects of my life, so I am forced to wait here as 3 separate washing loads spin and toss my sweaty shirts. Lucky me—each floor is allocated 3 washer-dryer sets, unlucky me—all of the ones on my floor are occupied. In a stroke of lazy ingenuity, I decide to take my roommate’s skateboard and push my towering pile of clothes down the absurdly long hallways that connect my building. I hunch over, like a struggling father pushing his son on a balance bike; huffing and sweating into clothes that were clean just minutes before. A girl quips as I pass by “oh haha dude, I’ve totally done that too.” This is little comfort to the struggling laundry crusader. Ultimately find that I can put my clothes in washers in the 4^th and 5^th floor.

The cycle time of the loads and walking time between the floors will prevent me from getting really anything significant done. So I sit, alone in laundry room, with my thoughts and my computer hoping to get something from nothing. In the morning (2:30 AM to be exact) I will leave to Chicago to beat the Fighting Irish. Regretfully, I planned to stay up until my 2:30 call time, so any sleep I get will be at the hotel in Chicago Thursday morning.

Like Gloria Steinem, my journey is part of my story, so I take a quick break from sitting on the dirty floor to switch my clothes into the dryer and trudge up to the 5^th floor to do the  same.

2 doors down from me in room 446 (it’s still going on if you’re reading this now), a party rages on. With lights dark, cringe worthy songs party songs, with hits like “I should’ve made her pay for it” and free flowing alcohol; this is classic apartment party. A Wednesday night no less.

Personally I will be enjoying a pinot noir and some trashy reality shows later this night with some close friends, so who am I to judge?

In my free-flowing reflection about my night and situation I have been thinking about the predicament of “waiting for the next thing.” When we are younger, we long to be older, watch the days tick by until we can drive, until we can drink. When we are older still, we wait for a graduation, for the indication that our life has progressed to the next expected stage. Hard work and persistence brings about change and ultimately satisfaction, but sometimes I fail to see a way to break the inevitable cycle (school-work-promotion-work-death) that makes up modern, 1^st world living. I envy my older sister sometimes, who has managed to make traveling and otherworldly experiences part of her everyday life. If money really is means to an end, then I have a great deal of further reflection to understand what “end” I will try to pursue to make the most out of my life here on earth.

I watched a video earlier this week where a conservative speaker talked about the value of time. This was a bit redundant, because every motivational speaker and his mother has some sort of pitch on how we are wasting our collective lives. However, what he said struck a chord with me— was how he talked about people who are afraid to face what their potential could be if they didn’t waste time or avoid their responsibilities. “We are not everything that we could be and we know it.” If we “spoke our being forward” we could fulfill the desires and goals within ourselves rather than feeling unsatisfied.

As tangential as that thought may have seemed, I believe the washing machine is deeply analogous to the constant motion of life and unending pace of time. I strive to both live in the moment without waiting for my life to start happening and make the most out of my time here at USC.

my clothes are ready…

Have a fun, safe weekend my friends, Fight on!