Major: Law, Economics, and Public Policy
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John Green wrote, "my thoughts are stars that I cannot fathom into constellations." If my thoughts are stars, they’re less like the Big Dipper and more like a game of connect-the-dots where someone decided to layer eighteen different images on top of each other then erased the guiding numbers. Seventeen of those images are about work, money, and the pot of mac and cheese boiling on the stovetop. I can only hope that one of them relates to the essay I have to write for tomorrow morning.
For me, that’s both the most terrifying and the most beautiful part of writing. It’s terrifying because my mind is a galactic mess. It’s beautiful because somewhere in that mess are constellations. In writing, in throwing my thoughts on the page, the stars begin to align. And at some point they'll align into an essay. I know what it’s like to see that haunting blank page, and I know how the blinking cursor looks an awful lot like a vertical version of a flat-line on a heart monitor machine in the emergency room. I just have to start.
They say that a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. An essay of a thousand words begins with a single thought, a single star that you begin to fathom into a constellation.