The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Michigan in Color
4 — Wednesday, March 10, 2021 

The next step

The scent of my mother

I have always been waiting. When I 

was too young to be in school, I envied my 
older siblings for having math homework. 
When I was in elementary school, I woke 
up at the same time as my older siblings, 
who were in middle school and high 
school, because I wanted to make sure I 
was ready to be on the “big kid” schedule. 
When I finally got to middle school, I 
bubbled with anticipation while spinning 
the dial on my brand-new locker, but this 
excitement quickly faded; after all, high 
school was more intriguing than a locker.

By the time high school came around, I 

was determined to get into a good college 
and spent my time doing everything I 
could to prepare for that next step. Before 
I went to sleep, I imagined scenarios of 
what my life would be like on a college 
campus. I saw myself decked out in maize 
and blue at tailgates. I pictured the rush 
of being in the Big House for my first 
college football game. I fantasized about 

making new friends and bonding over 
our everlasting love for John Mulaney. 
The next night, I would be at the library 
studying for a biochemistry exam. I 
imagined nearly all mundane activities 
becoming slightly more tolerable once I 
was in college. I slept knowing that my 
dreams for the next step might just be a 
reality. I slept peacefully and with hope.

Now, as a freshman, I sit here typing 

this in my Ann Arbor apartment after 
getting kicked out of the University of 
Michigan residence halls. Though I’m 
quite literally in the place I spent four 
years dreaming about, the satisfaction 
I expected to come along with it didn’t 
come the way I imagined it would. 
Making new friends comes with the 
anxiety of COVID-19 exposure. Sleepless 
nights cramming for exams at the 
library have become me sitting at home 
alone, without friends — studying and 
coming to the bitter realization that my 
time management skills have become 
subpar. It’s far less glamorous than I had 
anticipated. Days blend into one another, 
all consisting of an endless cycle of 

homework, Zoom and staring at the four 
blank concrete walls of my apartment.

On top of it all, my constant need 

for being overly prepared for the next 
step seems to have disappeared. When 
you’re younger, the milestones are so 
clearly predetermined. You get your 
driver’s license when you turn 16 years 
old, and you pursue higher education if 
you have the means and desire to. No 
one ever mentioned how the next steps 
get fuzzier when you’re older — how, 
to a certain extent, you have to choose 
your next step. You can decide what 
the future holds for you, but now with 
the pandemic, the future is filled with 
uncertainty more than ever.

Preparing for the next step isn’t what 

it used to be. It’s no longer as simple 
as waking up at 6 a.m. instead of 8 a.m. 
It’s not as easy as spinning the dial on 
my brand-new locker. What I can do 
is learn how to be content with the 
way things are, instead of drowning in 
sorrow that things aren’t as picture-
perfect as I had imagined them to be. I 
can bring light into the seemingly dark 

four walls around me and have that be 
enough. Life appears to be at a standstill 
with the ongoing pandemic, yet the vast 
majority of people are still clinging to 
their hopes of what they want to do in the 
future. With estimates of herd immunity 
being achieved in 2022, it’s becoming 
increasingly apparent that I shouldn’t 
waste a year of my life glorifying what’s 
next. As college students, we often 
forget that we are still so rich in time. 
The ongoing pandemic makes it so easy 

for us to see how much time is slipping 
away, but we are still young in the grand 
scheme of it all. The pressure that I put on 
myself in my youth to be over-prepared 
for the next step has always been self-
inflicted. Recognizing that there is time 
to prepare at a normal rate while still 
learning to enjoy the nuances of everyday 
life is something that is more than 
achievable for me. I’ve spent so much of 
my life waiting for the next step. I’m done 
waiting.

MEGHAN DODABALLAPUR

MiC Columnist

mysterious as a 1975 

alchemical creation concocted out of 

132 perfumes from her symphony of sweet 

florals dusky ambers & oceanic linens

all fused with her natural

chemicals and last night’s kimchi stew

yet her underlying melodies

simply untraceable like the base

colors of Pollock paintings

like the diffuser of life 

she inhaled her pride while i 
spewed secrets in english:

words she would stumble upon

as she carried dictionaries of puzzles 
piling them gently despite her clogged 

filters

she exhaled only the shasta daisies 

into my lonely garden

i’m sorry umma but how can i forget 

those sighs and salty tears 

you wiped with the hands that carried 

whiffs of burnt bulgogi

hoping to conceal the embarrassment

of which i was the cause

with spritzes of patience and fresh 

nectarine blossom 

when it’s already imprinted in my 
memory and your memory foam

i now dive straight into its fluffy haven 

and kiss the nostalgic whiffs, scrambling 

for hints

that’d later haunt me like the unopened 

letter stashed away in my suitcase 
if only i could then forget how your 

bruises

hardly appeared to heal

i’m sorry umma but i needed time
to heal as my spit-out sharp-edged 

words slashed rare diamonds unabatedly 

yet 

the mother in you knew my whimpers 

were sirens so you’d pretend not to 

crack while bruising internally saying 
nothing yet everything with your smile 

lines 

your light spritzes of nectarine hope

your scent is medicine without 

expiration

taken on nights i grapple with my 

future becoming and as your scent 

permeates my mind i bottle you up in my 

heart’s crevices 

knowing you’ll want me to wear my life 

proudly the way you could not.

Design by Erin Shi

I love learning that I’ll have the apartment 

to myself for the day. Just the words “I am 
heading out for a few hours” send endorphins 
rushing through my head because of the 
realization that I now have several hours I 
can dedicate to tidying up my apartment. The 
prospect of organizing my life by cleaning 
overtakes my mind as I start a load of laundry 
while “Neon Guts” by Lil Uzi Vert blasts 
through my speakers. 

Before I moved to college, I was a hoarder. 

If you’d taken a peek under my bed, you would 
have found my McDonald’s receipt from four 
months ago, my middle school yearbook and 
the Adidas Superstar shoebox I got with a 
shoe purchase from three years ago. But after 
discovering the inner peace I gained after 
using my own will to remove useless junk 
from my space, I changed my lifestyle from 
that of a hoarder to that of a neat freak. 

Cleaning had always been a chore to me. My 

mother taught me how to do laundry and iron 
my clothes when I was nine and clean dishes 
when I was ten. By twelve, I was hovering over 
her shoulder as she taught me how to measure 
the perfect amount of salt for any dish. With 
my Indo-Caribbean heritage, it was expected 
of me, the girl of the house, to learn to cook 

and clean from a very young age. I began to 
dread cleaning because I was required to live 
up to this cultural standard while my brothers 
would never have to fathom the idea of using a 
bucket and a mop to wipe the hardwood floors 
every Sunday morning. The scent of Clorox 
wipes and Scrubbing Bubbles Bathtub Cleaner 
attacked my lungs, choking me slowly as I 
scrubbed the dirt and grime off the bathtub 
walls. Eventually, I became Cinderella before 
she received her magical carriage, gown and 
glass slippers; my free time was spent picking 
up after my older brothers. While my brothers 
were able to laugh in the hallways as they 
got ready to go see their friends, the sound of 
water coming from the kitchen sink was my 
small companion for the weekend. 

Having to clean up after yourself and be 

responsible for the adults in your household 
is an emotionally grueling task as a child. It 
sours your perspective on cleaning because it’s 
a parent-mandated duty rather than an act of 
self-care. After moving to Ann Arbor for my 
freshman year, keeping my side of the dorm 
room clean was initially challenging. It was 
frustrating to come home to my room, with 
makeup and clothing scattered across my desk 
and my unmade bed, serving as a constant 
reminder of my terrible time management and 
sleep schedule. I felt defeated every day as I 
shoved my little black makeup bag under my 
desk and into an organizer. My eyes felt heavy 

and exhaustion washed over me, because I 
was always wondering when this cycle would 
come to an end. 

One day, I discovered Marie Kondo’s method 

of tidying, where she worked with those in 
cluttered spaces to declutter their environment 
and introduce them to a new perspective on 
cleaning. Kondo would ask people to only keep 
the items which “spark joy” in them, meaning 
that if someone held an object in their hand 
and did not feel excitement or happiness, then 
they would remove the object from their space. 
Ultimately, the purpose of the exercise was to 
declutter by getting rid of various old items and 
creating space for something new. 

After coming across the KonMari 

method of cleaning, I decided it was time 
to purge my room. I ran to my dresser, 
starting with the top drawer, and removed 
every piece of clothing one by one until they 
were heaped into a mountain on the floor. 
Band t-shirts from middle school and jeans 
from my first year of high school had all 
followed me to college. I was holding onto 
memories that I felt neither emotionally 
connected to nor thought were relevant 
to me as a freshman in college. I did not 
understand how holding onto old pieces 
of clothing could block me from reaching a 
sense of peace until I took the time to hold 
each garment in my hand and ask myself, 
“Does this spark joy?” 

Once my wardrobe no longer consisted 

of old clothing, I felt as if I had been set free 
from all the weight that had been holding 
me down. Though I was thankful for my 
past memorabilia that accompanied me 
throughout summers in New York City and 
time spent with friends, I was approaching a 
new beginning. All of a sudden, the sun looked 
brighter and the breeze came through the 
dorm windows. There was an extra skip in 
my step as I lined up my three garbage bags 
of clothes against the wall to take out. I stood 
in the middle of my room, looking at the small 
pile of clothes I had left, and smiled. Finally, 
cleaning made me feel good. 

Decluttering is now a weekly routine of 

mine. A surface can be properly cleaned 
without having to move something. A 
workplace is like a temple, so having a 
clean environment is essential. In a time 
when everything is virtual, keeping items 
that “spark joy” can keep you motivated, 
happy and focused. Nurturing your 
environment with sunlight and plants 
is a way to improve your mood and your 
point of view towards work. You deserve 
to study, work and play in a stress-free 
environment this semester, so give 
yourself a chance to fall in love with 
cleaning.

Why you should keep items that spark joy

ANCHAL MALH

MiC Columnist

I am a Gemini sun, Libra moon and Cancer 

rising. To people well-versed in astrology, 
these placements indicate that I am an idealist, 
easily approachable and generally easy to get 
along with, but I tend to get bored almost 
as soon as I start a conversation and cannot 
make a decision to save my life. However, most 
people, when I begin discussing the practice 
of astrology, think that I am a complete fool. 
Many people, mostly other men, dismiss 
astrology as some ridiculous practice that 
only unreasonable people, mostly women, 
believe in. This idea, of course, is narrow-
minded, condescending and misogynistic. I 
invite disbelievers to see astrology through 
the perspective of people who actually do 
take it seriously and perhaps listen to my 
account before completely disregarding the 
topic. Astrology is often the butt of many 
jokes, but it has helped me discover newfound 
confidence, form connections with other like-
minded individuals and further challenge my 
understanding of human behavior. 

In the summer of 2019, I attended a summer 

writing program in Ohio, about 4,000 miles 
away from my home in Kapolei, Hawaii. When 
I was young, I had always kept to myself in the 
back corner of the classroom. In this program, 
I was suddenly dropped into completely new 
and unfamiliar territory, surrounded by 200 
brilliant writers from all over the country. 
When I arrived, I was terrified beyond any fear 
I had ever felt before. I thought my writing and 
ideas were neither poetic nor important enough 
to share, and I found myself subconsciously 
muting my child-like fascination with fireflies 
and willow trees (neither of which existed on 
my island home) in order to fit in with my peers. 
Even when the residence hall common rooms 
echoed with laughter and excitement, my body 
tried to merge into the concrete walls — until 
an outgoing stranger named Minnie asked 
me if I knew anything about astrology. I had 
never believed in astrology before, but I was so 
desperate to make friends that I was willing to 
learn more about it just to appeal to this kind 
stranger.

She first used an online natal chart 

calculator to show me my own placements 
and help me understand how astrology 
may play a role in my own personality. For 
instance, my moon in Libra suggests that 
I strive to maintain peace in my personal 
relationships, which may lead to surrender 
during arguments. My shy nature has always 

made me despise confrontation (even now 
that I have become more confident), so 
this description was dead-on. It felt nice to 
know that Minnie was able to gather this 
information about me without me having to 
actually be vulnerable with somebody I had 
met one day prior. After doing a little more 
research on the anatomy of the natal chart, 
I found a wealth of information about all the 
even more intricate parts of astrology like 
houses, decans and Chiron: all important 
sections and celestial bodies of a natal chart 
that can be easily overlooked. 

However, simply learning more about the 

inner workings of astrology didn’t convince 
me that any of this information was worth 
learning about –– or truthful, for that matter. 
One of the biggest reasons for my skepticism 
about astrology was that it is not supported 
by scientific evidence. Even now, I recognize 
that astrology is not backed by scientific 
discovery; what does planetary orbit have 
anything to do with my character? I could 
easily find correlations between my behavior 
and the planets’ positions in my birth chart, 
such as my scattered thoughts and curiosity 
about others’ lives reflected in my mercury 
placement in Gemini. However, I still 
found no evidence to prove that these were 
more than mere coincidences, even if these 
connections seem eerily accurate. Though 
my TikTok application’s For You Page is full 
of explanations of planetary returns and 
energetic frequency, I still find concepts 
such as Mercury retrogrades and planetary 
placements illogical. So, why do I still believe 
in astrology? Well, that’s simply because I am 
not a logical person.

Irrationality is a fundamental part of 

the human experience. Astrology may 
be irrational, but so were my impostor 
syndrome and intense fears of social rejection. 
Nevertheless, these manifested in very real 
ways, and I still clung to my anxiety toward 
approaching new people. If I could believe 
one irrational theory, what was stopping me 
from believing in astrology as well? As I tried 
to wrap my head around the petroglyphic 
symbols scattered around my birth chart, 
I realized that believing the stars influence 
our personalities is no more unreasonable 
than believing that I was an unintelligent and 
unlikable person. Logically, upon having this 
realization, I could now recognize that my 
fears from before were irrational, but I was 
still afraid of judgment. In order to combat an 
irrational fear, I decided to approach it with 
another irrational belief system. I decided to 
learn more about how the astrological traits 

of the signs in my birth chart could help me 
grow.

When I read more about the traits of 

Gemini suns, I discovered that they were 
typically popular, outgoing and loved sharing 
their knowledge with others. Suddenly, I felt 
like I had the potential deep within me to 
overcome my intense fear of social rejection. 
I simply had to embrace my innate Gemini 
characteristics and grow into the person 
I was destined to be. At the same time, I 
learned that it was common for Geminis to 
frequently shift their personalities to appeal 
more easily to a wide variety of people. I 
wasn’t aware that I was shunning parts of 
myself to fit in at the time, but reading about 
it made me realize that this was a fault I 
wanted to correct. Without reading about 
the common tendencies of Geminis, I may 
never have realized that I was hiding parts 
of myself away. My birth chart never told 
me something about myself that I didn’t 
already know; it just made me confront the 
perception of myself that I never desired to 
acknowledge. I used astrology to analyze 
myself. When I confronted the shy, anxious 
parts that I wanted to change, I formed a 
clear vision of the person I wanted to be. After 
years of conscious growth and introspection, 
I am much more outgoing and expressive 
than before. I am much happier with the man 
I am today than the shy young boy I was that 
summer.

Over the course of the two-week program, 

I continued to ask Minnie about astrology and 
her journey as a writer and her dreams for 
the future. Together, we spent many hours 
editing each other’s poetry, running around 
the campus and talking until the late hours of 
the night. Two years later, she remains one of 
my best friends. Had I scoffed in her face and 
told her that astrology is irrational and fake, I 
surely would have never been able to form the 
connection that I did.

I understand why people often don’t take 

astrology seriously, but without astrology, I 
would have never formed connections with 
others who shared my interest in astrology, 
and I would not have become cognizant of the 
unique parts of myself that I repressed in order 
to assimilate. I’m not saying that everyone 
has to adopt the practice of astrology; people 
should do whatever works for them. I think 
we should all take the time to examine the 
things that we have initially dismissed as 
unimportant. Perhaps remaining open-
minded and focused on our own growth is 
more important than forming a rigid and 
perfectly rational worldview.

Reaching for the stars

ANDREW NAKAMURA

MiC Columnist

Design by Janice Lin

Design by Emily Gordon

By Rachael Kong, MiC Columnist