Over the course of a seemingly fast-tracked first semester of senior year, writing (though not always at the top of my list of priorities) was forced to linger in my mind. Whether it be the excitement of writing on a new blog topic or the dreading of formulating yet another college essay, I felt that I never chose writing. Rather, writing always chose me (or, more accurately, forced its way upon me). In one way or another, I realized, I had to find a way to reliably enjoy writing. How could I truly immerse myself in stringing words, sentences, and ultimately paragraphs together, all in the creation of a work holding some level of significance? Could I even do it? This was my challenge for the home stretch of 2023. Although, personally, I do not think I made much progress at all in my journey towards writing enjoyment, I can certainly say that I’ve experienced some very necessary growth.

For starters, I feel that I’ve learned to better harness my memory, to really dig deep into my past (not on any emotional or spiritual level, per se) and pull out the moments that counted. I do not know what exactly to attribute this to, but I’ll take an improvement in memory any day. Especially when writing the blog about my birthday and the various factors which make it so special (and annoyingly special, at that), the amount which I seemed to gather regarding random family gatherings, social situations, and gifts from the Christmas’ of 2012 and earlier amazed me. In the same sense, perhaps this is why that blog was so enjoyable to write in the first place. Not too often do I, on my own free will, get to take a trip down memory lane, an opportunity to reminisce on what exactly is crammed into the ever-tightening space that is my brain. It was refreshing to have the time I allotted to write my blogs—previously uninteresting and obligatory—be, in a way, time I took to myself and, more importantly, a deeper understanding of self. Now writing this blog, I can safely say that this, more than any other reason, is likely the key behind the growth which I have experienced—and potentially to the enjoyment of writing which I have been seeking for many years. 

From reading the blogs of others (friends, mostly), I feel that I may have found myself at the start of the journey. Even more than the aspect of reminiscing, seeing the blog topics of those who surround me on a daily basis gives me hope that, maybe someday, I will be able to find a niche, an originality of sorts, where I can both creatively and happily embark on the task of writing. For years, both in an out of school, the writing which I have done has been very one-dimensional—that is to say, I don’t think I ever went out of my comfort zone, perhaps on a mission to find the sort of writing which, like a hobby, game, or sport, sees me lose all track of time. Don’t get me wrong, I already lose track of time when writing, just not in the desirable sort of way. Timed writings, for one, cater to me as one of the greatest ways to time travel through 50 (or 45, or 42) minutes of otherwise seemingly endless periods of time. 

So, heading into the second semester of my last year as a high schooler, I guess I have something to be excited about (other than college). Even if not the most “exciting type of excitement”, as a self-proclaimed optimist, I’ll take what I can get. Who knows, if I keep up this pace, 2024 may just be my year of writing (if not, though, I’m not too pressed).

As the holiday season quickly approaches (along with, unfortunately, the usual end-of-semester chaos), I, like most others, cannot help but feel a sense of joy, the light at the end of the tunnel that is first semester. Especially as this will be my last Christmas as a resident of Naperville, I look forward to making memories which I can look back on, memories upon which my childhood will be remembered by. Unfortunately, my last Christmas as a child actually took place last year, in 2022. As of December 24, 2023, I will officially enter legal adulthood, missing another “childhood Christmas” by just a day (technically, under six hours if you take into account time of birth). So, as being born on Christmas Eve, and as being a Christmas Eve birthday for the past 17 (almost 18) years, here are some of December 24th’s greatest gifts, along with a fair share of misfortunes.

Pros

The “WOW!” Factor

As a topic of discussion (most notably when meeting people for the first time), my birthday serves as a great way to make small talk, breaking the ice even in the most awkward of situations (though, sadly, this works best only around the holiday season). A mention of my birthday often sets in motion a chain of reactions, with most taking some form of interest with the date itself. “Wow, you’re one day away from Jesus!”,  “Santa’s best friend”, and “It must suck getting combined gifts!” are among some of the most memorable, though admittedly corny and awkward, responses which I have garnered with such information. Regardless, the few extra seconds of conversation is often enough (especially at larger gatherings) to warrant putting an end to an otherwise dull, uneventful exchange of small talk formalities.

Winter Break

Whereas other people often have to worry about whether or not their birthday falls on a weekday, weekend, or busy day in their schedule, December 24 leaves me no reason to worry about these things. Sure, I may have a gathering or two to attend (where by birthday, as already mentioned, comes in handy), but most concerns regarding schoolwork, extracurriculars, internships, and work have mostly subsided, leaving me all the room to enjoy my birthday as I please. I often used to overlook this aspect of my birthday when I was younger, unaware of the increased rigor that high school, and especially life as a high school senior, would bring. Now, in the midst of a chaotic semester characterized by school, activities, work, college applications, and more, being able to cherish a birthday, let alone two weeks of time off of school is all-the-more of a blessing.

Cons

The “WOW!” Factor (again)

Yes, the interest that my birth date generates is undoubtedly both exciting to see as well as useful within certain scenarios, but it may be more painful than it is beneficial. See, upon mentioning this fact, the common questions regarding “combined presents” are always ones which I internally wince at, being all too familiar with the concept. Whereas others have the liberty of asking for two sets of gifts—one for their birthday and one for Christmas—I often get the short end of the stick when it comes to the idea of “sets” of gifts. Having to see your “birthday presents underneath the tree” (a real quote said by my mom, ten Christmas’ ago, and it still hurts) is a pain which I would not wish upon my worst enemy. Seeing your gift potential (selfish, I know) being cut in half in the matter of a day, especially for a whiny, 8-year-old brat was as gut-wrenching as ever.

The “2-Day” Problem

Psychologically, this one hurts more than the last. See, when it comes to the prospect of getting gifts, I, like most others, have two primary days of looking forward to presents. The problem arises when, every time I discuss birthdays, Christmas, or presents, I remember that those two days are right next to one another. After those two days pass, I have to wait a whole year, another 365 days, until I receive the next set of gifts. I envied other kids who, having birthdays in March, June, and August, could get excited for their birthdays a month in advance, during February, May, and July. Meanwhile, I had nothing to be excited about (again, as a whiny young child) until December rolled around, and similarly had all the more sulking to do when December 26th rolled around, aware of the misfortunes that my December 24th birthday had so unfairly given me.

In all seriousness, I wouldn’t change my birthday (though my 8-year-old self might have). It brings a different type of self-identity, or uniqueness which I have learned to appreciate. More importantly, as I mature and meet more people, having the “WOW! Factor” on my side may not be the worst thing, after all.

With Halloween 2023 behind us (and college application season too, for the most part), I cannot help but feel a plethora of emotions. The passing of the November 1st deadline has me excited as ever, ready to enjoy everything great about being a senior, a pseudo-adult, a now “free soul”. But as the end of the spooky season revealed, looking ahead to college brings a certain level of sadness, too. Sure, I could look ahead to Thanksgiving and spending quality time with family, or to Christmas, the happiest time of year, filled with joy, excitement, and relaxation. Alas, I still choose to look behind me. Halloween 2023 was the last Halloween I had in Naperville (as a “child” at least). November will mark the final Thanksgiving in Naperville. December marks the final Christmas. January the last New Year’s. And, of course, May marks the end of an 18-year journey through youth—something I will never get back.

So, I look back at the last 17 (almost 18) years I’ve had the chance to enjoy, to enjoy as a child. Have I done enough? Have I done enough for myself, for those around me, for those I might never get the chance to meet? Maybe. Maybe not. I guess I’ll know in a few decades, at the very least. For now, though, I hope to look to the future. To do those things which I maybe have not done yet. To share experiences with those who I have not, to make memories with those I have not. Don’t get me wrong, I still have my list of priorities, and I like to think that I can still hold them in high regard, even when allocating time to do what I have not. Scoring good grades, keeping up with extracurriculars, and maintaining existing relationships are still at the top of my mind. But now, just one step beneath these ideals, lies all I hope to do between now and the end of my high school and childhood journey—to enjoy the gifts of childhood, the gift of pursuing memories—for many, this might really be the pursuit of doing nothing, of taking it easy.

The motivation for such a mindset towards the future (such a future referring to the mere months I have left in Naperville), really, stems from a notion which has surrounded me for most of, if not all, of my life—the idea of “wasting your childhood”, or wanting to “be a kid again”. Admittedly, as not yet being an adult (both in the legal and technical sense), I probably do not fully understand these sentiments. How will I know if I “wasted”  my childhood, if I never knew anything other than childhood in the first place. Such a thought-process is comforting when looking ahead. However, in the same light, I strive to look back on my upbringing and have the confidence to take zero regret in all I’ve done these years. I don’t want to reflect on my high school years and see a slacker, so preoccupied with the material world, the worlds of vanity and self-image. A slacker loses sight of what’s important, of what will really take them places—whether it be towards a job, a family, a goal, or a dream—ultimately, towards happiness. In the same sense, I don’t want to look at my high school-self and see someone who neglected what they may never get again.

So, with the ten months (give or take) I have ahead of me, here’s a couple of things that I’ll do before entering a new phase of my life—and perhaps things you can do as well, for one final hurrah!:

1. Take an extra trip (or two) with friends or family. Strengthening these relationships now, especially seeing as long-term, these people will no longer be directly in your life, is the first step in maintaining these connections, no matter the physical distance. Your friends have taught you valuable lessons, brought you joy, and molded you into who you are today (hopefully for the better). After all, they are your friends for a reason! Make sure you hang on to as many as possible—they will only to continue to teach, uplift, and inspire. Family is no different. They have made it possible to be where you are today: spending quality time, whether as an act of gratitude or as a means of immense future benefit, will never be a bad idea.
2. Try something new. Find a niche! My friends and I promised one another that, following the end of college application season, we would all join the ultimate frisbee team at North, just for the fun of it! Dive deeper into a hobby which you might not have the time or focus for later. It helps strengthen existing relationships, too!
3. Enjoy yourself, and be honest! You know yourself better than anyone else, so every now and then, truly assess whether or not you are having at least a little bit of fun. Make room for fun, no matter the form, when you know you can—life only gets busier, and it all starts in just under a year. Go enjoy one last hurrah.

If I said, right now, that you (the reader) have listened to or (at the very least) heard music in the last twenty-four hours, what are the chances that I’d be right? From phone applications, to video games, to music streaming services, to schools and public venues, and more, the likelihood of such a statement being true would be close to 100%. Now, if the question was more specific— did you listen to [insert artist name] or did you listen to [insert music genre] music in the last twenty-four hours— my confidence in giving a solid answer plummets significantly. All I do know is that this likelihood number, for all its increased specificity, might just be a little farther from 100% than the first. Anything which imbues itself as a part of daily life— school, friends, activities, food— we all have our own way of approaching, doing, or responding to such factors. And believe me, even from talking to the few musically-obsessed friends I have, music most certainly is one of these “factors” in life.

But why is this the case? The simple answer is, as the name implies, quite straightforward. People, just like what we consume, enjoy, and choose to do, are all very different. With a difference in personalities, lifestyles, mindsets, and more will obviously come a difference in music taste. If people enjoy different foods, enjoy the company of different types of people, and enjoy playing and watching different sports, music, like a friend or a favorite dessert, is no different. So then what’s the complex answer to this question? Does such an answer even exist? If it does, I am certainly not qualified to say or explain such an answer. But at the very least, so as to at least bring some level of satisfaction to you, the likely bewildered and skeptical reader, I can develop a theory. People tend to view music as a physical embodiment of themselves— that is, they perceive a song, an album, or an artist, to represent themselves, to carry a piece of themselves behind each word, phrase, and chorus. Again, this is a part of the reason why I believe there to be no complex answer to such a question. Even the theory I just gave you (theory might even be too strong of a word) draws its origins to the simple answer at the beginning of the paragraph. If one’s lifestyle, upbringing, and mindsets are different, so too are they different as a person— such a difference will obviously be highlighted in terms of music taste.

This leads me to my next question. Why do people even bother giving their own personal takes, reviews, and ratings when it comes to music? Is there any value to be had from taking a topic of immense subjectivity and morphing it into a state of pseudo-objectivity? For me, the answer is most definitely “yes”.  Bringing a degree of subjectivity, and hence a level of personality into the otherwise personal topic of music holds more value than that of an opinion. It serves as a portal, a portal where one can see the pieces of one’s humanity, pieces otherwise hidden behind lyrics, verses, and songs. If music, and more specifically the act of listening to music, invokes a feeling of self-representation, then such discourse surrounding the topic is merely a publicizing of one’s values, background, and self-image— all principles deemed worthy of discussion, and rightfully so.

So, seeing as I have talked about music’s subjectivity for the last 584 words, here are some of my music-related “statistics”/takes so-to-speak (mostly hip-hop related, because that is my favorite genre), which you can use for your own interpretations:

1. My top three music genres are hip-hop at number one (no surprises there), pop at number two, and RnB at number three.
2. My most listened-to artists include Drake, The Weeknd, Kendrick Lamar, and Steve Lacy. My favorite album is “If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late” by Drake.
3. I listen to hip-hop when getting work done (Lo-Fi and classical aren’t for me). I encourage everyone to try it at least once— it works surprisingly well, at least for me (subjectivity!).
4. If I had to recommend one artist for everyone to check out (in my humble opinion), it would be Travis Scott. He brings some of the best production and flows in the music game, bringing a unique fusion between hip-hop and other alternate, psychedelic genres.

It is late September, 2023. For the Naperville North Class of 2024, life is busy, to put it mildly. GPA’s, SAT’s, ACT’s, and every other three-letter acronym are now its central focus. As the college pursuit begins to take full swing, students are (or at least will be!) caught up in a whirlwind of emotions— perhaps a signal of adulthood. But while we still live with our parents, live under someone else’s bill payments, and do not yet hold the right to vote (for the vast majority of the school’s 17-year-old seniors), have we truly reached such a point? Are we warranted in calling ourselves adults, when such a degree of self-sufficiency is yet to be met?

Many, including myself, love to think of ourselves as adults— after all, the urge to mature, grow, and eventually lead an independent life is an exciting prospect for many. We like to picture ourselves as adults, taking accountability for our morning routines, driving ourselves each and every day, and laying the path for a future with an educational institution. We feel that we are in increasing control of our lives, just mere months away from a life without parents, making our own meals and setting our own personal wellness standards. Legally even, the age of adulthood is once more just a few distant months away. If we are so close to adulthood in every facet of life— the law, our civic duties, and a life away in our own first homes— is it possible for us to not be adults?

The answer to that, both objectively and subjectively, is quite complex. Numerous studies, for instance, have shown that brain development does not cease within the average person until the age of twenty-five. Does the ability to think critically at one’s highest degree determine the status of one’s adulthood? Maybe it does. Perhaps it does not. However, it would be incorrect to say that the vast majority of our learning has already taken place, that the vast majority of our brain development has already taken place (as is the case for most, at least). Ahead of us still lies a life outside high school, whether that be at a university, trade school, the military, or the workforce. These post-secondary experiences, arguably, hold even more value than that found in a traditional high school setting. Theory and academics are great, but knowing their place in the real world— a world full of successes, failures, and potential— serves as a world far beyond the scope of academia. How would a mastering of Calculus BC, for instance, guide you through weeks of jam-packed classes, chores, and extra-curriculars in college? Perhaps it would do nothing— after all, what does Calculus have to do with maintaining a balanced life schedule? But perhaps someone, a true adult, if that’s what you want to call it, would reflect on their experiences with Calculus BC— itself a rigorous course in need to intense time management— and apply aspects of their high school study-schedule to their new, bustling life within a university campus. This, for many including myself, serves as the true definition of adulthood. A self-sufficiency not merely focused on self-reliance, but on self-prosperity.

So, after establishing a definition of adulthood, does this mean that we still pertain to the definition of “childhood”? Once again, the answer is tricky, blurry, and frankly inconclusive. Some would say that we are still “adolescents”, a bridge between childhood and adulthood imbued with physical, mental, social, and psychological changes. Others would say the term only refers to physical and mental changes associated with puberty, a point which many have passed already by their senior year of high school. But the meaning that these two viewpoints share in common, and one that is very much rooted in truth, is that the Class of 2024— and, frankly, hundreds of thousands of fellow high school seniors across the nation— fit neither the traditional notions of “childhood” nor “adulthood” in our current circumstances.

How do we view ourselves then? Should we live by an overestimation of maturity, looking at the world through the eyes of an adult, looking to our futures? Or should our approach to life, at least for the time being, take a more light-hearted approach, centered around living in the moment and enjoying life as a child, as a high school student? A correct answer will never exist. But, as life has taught us and told us so many times, the answer lies somewhere within the realm of balance. So look to the future, dream big, and accomplish big things. After all, a future of prosperity is a future worth striving for. But prosper in the moment too. Take a day off from stressing over your college essays. Come home and distance yourself from school, your job, and your activities for an hour. After all, a future of contentment starts with a moment of contentment. Let that moment be now.

I was probably just shy of 6 years old, a young boy who was so terribly scared of the dark that I had to have my mom read to me at night, inevitably putting me to sleep and creating a safe environment to turn the lights off.

I was being read The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle, a rather repetitive piece which proved a staple for my nightly routine as a kindergartner. I remember being fascinated by each and every interval of food consumed by this very hungry, green caterpillar, starting with one apple and making his way to five oranges. I laughed at the thought of a caterpillar eating five apples, taking the shape of an enlarged slug instead of one resembling a caterpillar. How could a caterpillar even fit five oranges in its stomach, if even one apple? I thought. The now-extremely enlarged caterpillar went into his cocoon, snuggled warm and resting after his feast. Then and there, I imagined myself as the caterpillar, snuggled warm in my own cocoon of dozens of blankets, as cozy as one could be. No more doing word search and crossword homework puzzles, addition and subtraction tables, or practicing my ABC’s. Just wrapped up in euphoria, not a care in the world. I faintly hear my mom whisper the final words of the book: A beautiful butterfly! 

Throughout kindergarten and the first half of elementary school, books were all the rave. Frankly, I never understood why, when being driven past the local high school, everyone was so attached to their iPods and cellphones, eyes glued to the screens as if their life depended upon it. I was proud to say that, unlike the more mature children around me, I would come home from school, snuggle up on the couch and read, always thinking of the caterpillar in his cocoon. Third grade then came along— and with it, reading assignments, a topic so dreaded by fellow students. Truthfully, these assignments entertained me, provided me with an escape from the formalities of life. As other students complained about making annotations in their texts, I happily did so, taking pride in underlining, circling, and writing in the margins for every detail I uncovered or question that dawned upon me. 

But third grade didn’t just mark reading assignments- on December 25, it presented to me an iPad. That Christmas Day, not a single book crossed my mind. Three weeks later, and the new Hunger Games Trilogy— a gift which I had also asked for— still remained untouched. Unknowingly, I had just come to understand the minds of all the high school-students whom I had once ridiculed. After school, I no longer thought of the next sentence, the next chapter, or the next book I would come to read. Those thoughts had been replaced by the thousands of pixels crowding the 10-inch iPad screen. Soon, I began wondering how reading— and not such collections of pixels— had captivated me for so many years. Why spend hours searching for happiness from a book’s ending, when such an ending could be reached in a matter of minutes on a screen? 

Sometimes I wish I could enjoy reading the same. Many share the same experience, while claiming that school has taken the fun out of reading. Though I think this is a part of it, I cannot act like I am not to blame for my falling out with reading. People consume me. Devices consume me. School consumes me. In the five minutes I have between classes, do I read? In the ten minutes waiting in a hotel lobby, do I read? When expecting my friends to arrive, do I read? The answer is quite simple— no, I do not read. But can I read? Yes. So, for me, the real question is— why not? 

This question resurfaces each and every time I read a new book. Between mundane annotations and often pure disinterest, I still always manage, in each and every piece of literature, to find that reason why. I reminisce on the reading I did knowing I was gaining knowledge, gaining purpose, and gathering enjoyment. An attitude towards reading based around rationale, reasoning, and reward. A reward for reaching the end of a book, for following a story and its emotions, characters, and lessons. When the end in literature is reached, there is nothing more imbued with such fulfillment. Yet, after each and every conclusion and cliffhanger, a book is never again willingly picked up. 

Part of my reading journey has been accepting this unwillingness to read, to pick up a book, and properly invest a good chunk of time in absorbing its contents. Perhaps this acceptance is justified, or perhaps not. But what I am certain about is that reading— no matter how small of a section of my brain it occupies or how much of my heart it fills— is and will be a facet of my life. When and how I utilize this part of myself, like most things in life, is under my control. Choosing to be a reader is choosing to read, and choosing to read, for most people, is choosing the hard path forward. But in a world full of easy satisfaction, perhaps a little struggle wouldn’t be for the worst.

 

—Aarohan Joshi