I
brainstorm
new
topics
for Michigan Daily articles,
like this one, from my bed
in the apartment I moved into
when the freshmen residence
halls closed. I rest my computer
on my lap, blank document open
and waiting, and I lean back into
the silence. Across from my bed
is a window, and through it, as
I write or ponder, I see the yel-
low house next door. On clear
evenings like tonight, the sunset
compliments the friendly yel-
low house and the pink quilt on
my bed. The light casts a warm
hue over my room and brings the
tapestry of the sky and twinkly
lights on the wall next to me to
life. It’s a zen, quiet, picturesque
moment, arguably my favorite of
the week.
I’ve had the privilege of this
simple yet mesmerizing view
for three months now. And for
three months, while I sit looking
at the yellow house and my quilt
in the sun’s rays, I continuously
have the same thought: What
would my younger self, perhaps
my year-ago self, think if she saw
me here? What would she make
of the yellow house? Of my bed-
room? The fact that I’m clearly
not in a residence hall? Without
explanation, she’d be shocked
and confused, to say the least.
I think it’s a crazy phenom-
enon — that I, a year ago today,
would have never conceived of
this image, my life and my cir-
cumstances right now. A phe-
nomenon not unlike Alice in
Wonderland falling down the
rabbit hole: one moment she was
walking, the next moment she
was in an unrecognizable, al-
ternate reality with all sense of
normality flipped on its head. I
never imagined that I’d be living
in an apartment in Ann Arbor,
making my own meals, attending
online classes or wearing a mask
every time I was in public.
We have the pandemic to
thank for shaking things up; for
throwing us down rabbit holes
and making almost all of our
present realities completely dif-
ferent from what our year-ago
selves would have predicted
them to be. And I know that CO-
VID-19 moving plans around and
making lives harder is not a nov-
el concept. But I think there is
something deeper that we need
to dig out and find value in be-
fore we completely move on.
This pandemic has brought
suffering, loneliness, deaths of
loved ones — for my family, my
dad’s father — and cancella-
tions of opportunities that were
heartbreaking. I’m thrilled to
leave such a devastating period
behind. But, as the weather gets
warmer, as vaccines become
widely accessible and as the
news channels begin to spend air
time on other issues, I can feel
the pandemic era fleeting. And
though this sounds strange or
even twisted, I do feel a sense of
nostalgia.
On the day-to-day level, the
pandemic turned my life from
fairly predictable to wildly ab-
normal, and I found a little thrill
in that. At the very beginning, I
thought I’d have two weeks of
senior spring break instead of
one. Naive to what was com-
ing, I was overjoyed with the
school’s calendar change and the
prospect of having extra time
off — the world, or at least the
extended spring break, was my
oyster. I then spent months on
end at home, but upon my arrival
at college, I spent no more than
three weeks in a single location.
I moved quickly from my new
residence hall room; to quaran-
tine with people I barely knew;
to a room alone, sick with chest
pains, fever and brain fog. Now
here I am on this pink quilt in an
apartment.
It’s felt like the Adventures
of Me in Wonderland. The un-
known. The unpredictable. The
discomfort. The unexpected en-
counters. The possibility. There
were new opportunities and
experiences that wouldn’t have
been on the menu had business-
per-usual been at play. I also rec-
ognize that I was lucky enough
to be in a position with more
privileged circumstances to view
uncertainty in this way. I was
forced to bounce around, but as
a result, I tried more things and
experienced many more versions
of life and of myself. Instead of
having one roommate through-
out my first semester, I experi-
enced four. I met an adult side of
me that hadn’t previously been
so required. I also uncovered a
relaxed version of myself, con-
tent and not so bothered by my
new nomadic lifestyle.
Not only was this exciting,
but to me, the idea of normal
routines being broken, that the
day-to-day humdrum of life was
completely disrupted, felt a bit
liberating. Expectations were on
hold. I had no impressive job or
fancy internship over the sum-
mer, and relaxed in the dog days
knowing barely anyone else did
either. Even once I got to school
in August, there was no guar-
antee that I’d be staying due to
positive tests or campus rules.
Again, while terrifying, this lack
of predictability was also free-
ing, as I wasn’t beholden to any-
one or any permanent circum-
stances. Everything was subject
to change and predominantly out
of my control. I’m a high-strung
person, I’m intent on making
the right decisions and I have a
proclivity for perfectionism that
probably needs curbing. While a
lot of my energy usually goes to-
wards manning the chessboard
that’s my life, moving pieces and
planning ahead, I had to step
down, surrender and let COV-
ID-19 play my game.
I’ve never experienced so
many redirects and pivots in my
plans in such a short amount of
time. Between the amount of CO-
VID-19 scares and tests I had to
take and the frequency at which
my circumstances were con-
stantly changing, I was essen-
tially forced to adopt the “do one
thing every day that scares you”
regime. I was not complacent
with my expectations of any cer-
tain schedule or way of life. I was
here, I was there, the future was
unclear and I was forced to ride
the wave of the present.
T
oday, I’m on a job and
internship search for my
summer, weighing op-
tions and choices, sending emails
and scheduling calls, deciding
where I’ll find the best experi-
ence. I know whatever I choose
and wherever I’ll go, that’s where
I’ll be planted and that’s the
schedule that I’ll follow. I notice
that “no expectation” mentality,
previously mandated by my pan-
demic circumstances, running
away.
As society goes back to nor-
mal, I wonder if we’ll all return to
the scheduled and routine way of
life. Never before has my genera-
tion, at least, experienced such
an elongated shattering of regu-
lar life, and it’s unclear whether
the effects will be everlasting.
Will we go back to creating plans
and going through the motions
of what and where society says
we’re supposed to be? After some
time, will I regress to operating
on a one-track mind, unable to
see non-obvious opportunities
or life-course excursions? Per-
haps I’ll see them, but expecta-
tions will stop me from pursuing
them. I fear that I’ll never again
observe a scene in my life and
wonder what the hell my year-
ago self would make of it.
And so, while I’m eager to nev-
er hear the word “corona” again,
I do have to think about how I
can extract what was good and
instructive from the rubble and
keep it in my pocket moving for-
ward. What I can gather is that
there’s something to be said for
spontaneity. For operating under
lower expectations. I don’t need
to drop out of college or move to
Switzerland as soon as I gradu-
ate. But I do think I have to make
a conscious effort to remind my-
self to “shake things up.” It’s on
me to remember not to worry so
much about the shoulds or dead-
lines or expected courses of ac-
tion because, hopefully, a global
pandemic will never again make
that decision for me.
As I sit here, watching the sun-
set over the yellow house, I think
I’ve come up with a good rule of
thumb: to sometimes opt for the
choice that perhaps my year-ago
self wouldn’t have been able to
envision. To choose to tumble
down the rabbit hole. After all,
the sun still sets and the sun still
rises. From wherever I’ve been
quarantined, from wherever I’ve
logged on to Zoom, from what-
ever car rides I was taking, job I
was doing, puzzle I was piecing,
the sun still did her thing above
me. No matter how jumbled my
own schedule was, the sun still
followed hers in the sky. Always
did, always will. I think knowing
this is security enough to make
spontaneous decisions or veer
away from the humdrum here
and there.
Tonight, the sun sets on the
yellow house, pink quilt and my
last Daily piece of the year. It
sets on winter, on the near-end
of the pandemic and near-end
of expectations obligatorily be-
ing set at the wayside. I wonder
where I’ll be a year from now
when it rises. I hope that I’m
surprised.
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
statement
ILLUSTRATION BY EILEEN KELLY
Wednesday, April 7, 2021 — 11
Chasing sunsets and
rabbit holes
BY LILLY DICKMAN, STATEMENT COLUMNIST