I have never considered myself a particularly scatterbrained person. Generally, I focus on my tasks and never leave things halfway. Throughout the entirety of my high school career, I have avoided procrastination and completed my assignments the day that they were assigned. Unfortunately, this has changed in the last three weeks. 

Whenever I had initially heard the term “Senioritis” I thought it was an exaggeration of the emotions that students feel throughout their senior year. Moreover, I was frequently asked about my personal experiences with Senioritis throughout my first semester. I felt the same as I always did. As such, I would simply shrug and state that I was unaffected by Senioritis. Now, however, this is no longer the case. 

Committing to college did not feel like a drastic milestone at the moment it happened. There was barely any indecisiveness, or anxiety that came with my decision. I felt content as I clicked the buttons that confirmed that I would attend UIUC in the fall. The realization that I had officially committed to a college did not hit me all at once. It seeped into my daily life slowly, until one day, I found that I could hardly focus on my current academic tasks at all. It was at that specific moment that I understood exactly what Senioritis was. 

As an underclassman, college felt like an abstract concept. I certainly knew that I would be attending a college in the future, however, I believed that I still had a lot of time before that day would come. Junior year and the beginning of Senior year felt this way as well. Sure, I was studying for my SAT exams and filling out college applications, but I still had not fully registered that I would be attending college in a very short amount of time. This realization did not truly occur to me until a few weeks ago. Upon gaining awareness of the fact that I would soon be leaving home, and my family, I felt horrified. Growing up, I always perceived college as something that would happen once I was an adult. I believed that attending college would be the event to conclude my childhood and throw me into the real world. Now, as I grow closer and closer to graduating high school and attending college, I cannot help but feel a sense of sadness that my childhood is quickly coming to an end. 

All of these emotions, combined with the tedious tasks of managing college paperwork, and applying for housing, have made it nearly impossible for me to live in the moment. As much as I am trying to, I simply cannot focus on the present. The high school assignments that used to feel like my top priority, have blurred into distant background noise. While I still complete my tasks with diligence and effort, I cannot help but feel completely detached from the work I am doing. At this point, the only word that can fully encompass how I feel is “scatterbrained.”

One part of me is completely engrossed in the idea of exploring college. I am certainly anxious, but I am also excited. I am curious to learn about the opportunities that are present at UIUC for me to enjoy. However, there are also placement tests, meal plans, and course enrollments that I have to worry about. On top of that, AP exams are looming in the near future, along with final projects and graduation. A combination of all of these things can make it difficult to live in the moment. Nevertheless, I find consolation in the fact that almost all of my peers seem to be experiencing these emotions. 

Enjoying the present moment is hard, especially during chaotic times such as these. Senioritis may have slowly diffused into my brain, however, it is ultimately my decision how I choose to act as a result of this. There is nothing wrong with feeling the way that most seniors do. The final stretch of high school is a strange, yet valuable time. While my brain might be scattered in a million different directions, I can still make the most of my time in high school through patient and consistent efforts. After all, graduation is only a few weeks away!

Scientists believe that smell is the sense that is most closely associated with memory. Experts also say that memories associated with specific smells tend to be old memories that are not frequently thought about. Upon the presence of certain smells, however, these memories resurface in a vivid and detailed way. In other words, all individuals associate certain smells with particular memories. These correlations can sometimes be incredibly random. In my own life, I have certainly noticed that the presence of particular smells floods my mind with vivid memories and emotions. 

The most prominent example that I can think of is the smell of chlorine and sunscreen. While this may seem like a typical scent that one would associate with Summer and swimming, it is much more nuanced for me. When I was younger, I used to participate in Summer camp every year. Towards the end of the school year, I would practically be bouncing with excitement at the prospect of camp approaching in the near future. The scent of chlorine and sunscreen, not only reminds me of these times but also reminds me of the carefree nature of my childhood. This scent allows me to reminisce of a time in which my only responsibility was to put sunscreen on my nose and play in the pool. 

The scent of specific perfumes has this impact on me as well. There was a particular body spray that I used to wear towards the end of freshman year. The laundry detergent that my family used at this time also intermingled with the scent of this spray. This caused my clothes to smell like a combination of these fragrances. Now, when I smell a shirt that I haven’t worn since freshman year, I am immediately transported to the time of quarantine. I immediately associate this scent with boredom and struggling to find popular items in stores. Because of this, I cannot bring myself to use that specific body spray anymore. It feels like an artifact that is supposed to stay in the past, rather than follow me into the present. 

In many ways, specific scents feel like time machines. The moment that they enter my nose, I can feel myself being transported into a different time in my life, and a completely different mentality. The scent of papaya has this influence on me as well. In America, papayas are not commonly consumed. It is difficult to find them in the supermarket, and when found, they are incredibly expensive. In India, however, these fruits are very common. Every time that I have visited India with my family, I have eaten an abundance of papayas. The scent of this fruit immediately transports me to the bustling city of Kolkata, and the wonderful memories that I have there. In recent years, my family has been unable to visit India as frequently as we used to. The subtle aroma of papaya always fills me with a strange combination of nostalgia and longing, as it reminds me of my favorite city. 

This nostalgia can also be found when I step outside in the summertime and smell the morning dew. This scent is always light, sweet, and crisp. Upon smelling it, I immediately feel a sense of freshness and calamity. As a child, I would frequently go on summer walks with my Grandmother in the morning. There was a blackberry bush near my house, where I would frequently pick blackberries with my Grandmother. The scent of morning dew not only transports me to this time but also fills my mouth with the rich flavor of blackberries.

Memories are invaluable things, and often, they can be forgotten amidst the chaos of life. Many times, they lay dormant, and wait for a particular stimulus to trigger them. In my own life, I have certainly noticed that particular scents have served as that stimulus. The emotions that are evoked as a result of this can vary greatly. Nonetheless, our sense of smell allows us to recover forgotten memories and live in the time period that these moments occurred. The partnership of the nose and the brain is an amazing thing. It is more than simply a bodily function. It’s a magical phenomenon that gives us the opportunity to relish the joys of our pasts. It is a time machine. 

The Barnum Effect is defined as the tendency to accept certain information as true, such as character assessments or horoscopes, even when the information is so vague as to be worthless. Humans have an inherent tendency to seek validation and the feeling of being understood. When provided with an opportunity to be affirmed and provided with a definite identity, most individuals will mold themselves to fit into this identity entirely. 

The most evident example of this is astrology. Individuals are assigned a zodiac sign from the moment they are born, and each zodiac sign comes with a designated set of attributes and traits. Some of these traits are good, and others are bad. However, each zodiac sign is characterized by these qualities, and the individuals possessing their designated signs feel as though they must possess these attributes themselves. 

I have experienced this in my own life as well. When I was told that my zodiac sign was Leo for the first time, I immediately began to ponder what that meant, and how the acquisition of this information would further shape my sense of self. I began to research the attributes of my zodiac sign, and while doing so, I felt happy that my zodiac sign was regarded as “confident, charismatic, and inspiring.” I am undoubtedly outgoing, but by no means do I possess the “regal personality” that most Leos are described as having. I desperately wanted to fit into the box that my zodiac sign provided me, even if that meant discounting the significance of my own personality traits. Looking back, I recognize that many stereotypical Leo traits do not define me at all, and I simply wanted to believe that they did. 

This extends further than astrology. Many systems of personality classification place people into boxes and completely discount the more complex aspects of personality. The individuals who indulge in this, begin to truly believe that the results of these quizzes or tests define the entirety of their persona. People love feeling affirmed in their identity, even if these affirmations cannot encapsulate every aspect of their personality.

Another primary example of this is MBTI or Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. This system is based on psychological science, thus, it is a much better form of personality classification than astrology. However, it is still nearly impossible to define every aspect of a person’s nature through a five-minute online quiz. This system states that there are eight possible cognitive functions and sixteen possible personality types. Individuals who take this personality test are sorted into one of these sixteen categories and are provided with a description of their personality. This causes people to believe that this vague personality description is holistically accurate, and as a result, they behave as the stereotypical description of their personality type. 

I certainly believe that MBTI is accurate to a certain extent. The theory itself is incredibly interesting, however, it is nearly impossible to fit the entirety of a person into one of sixteen possible personality types. Granted, the usage of this system relies heavily on placing people into boxes, however, by doing so, individuals are more likely to disregard certain aspects of their personality in order to fit into their designated box. 

The theory of MBTI is fascinating to me, along with other systems of personality classification. I believe that the creation of such systems illustrates the human desire to be validated and understood. By creating a system that provides people with a specific description of their personality, and thoroughly describes the positive and negative aspects of their nature, people feel validated in their identity and attempt to mold these characteristics further. The primary website for MBTI classification (16personalities) advertises itself as “it’s so incredible to finally feel understood.” This advertisement reinforces the Barnum Effect as people who take this personality quiz will subconsciously believe that the results will make them feel completely understood. 

In reality, this is not the case. While one can certainly relate to a personality description, it is impossible to define the entirety of an individual with a single personality quiz, or the horoscope section in the daily newspaper. It is important to recognize that every individual has a unique personality and history that shapes who they are. By recognizing this, one can find comfort in the fact their personality is not supposed to fit into a neat box. Individuals should embrace the idea that they are infinite, rather than confining themselves to a vague description. Through understanding this, one will be less susceptible to falling into the alluring charm of the Barnum Effect. 

When I first read Somewhere I Have Never Travelled, Gladly Beyond by E.E. Cummings, I found myself intrigued about the speaker’s relationship with his lover. Initially, it seems as though the two individuals are not romantically involved at all. Within the first stanza, the poet uses words and phrases such as “silence” and “cannot touch” to describe his lover. This initially led me to believe that the poet was observing a woman from afar, rather than being romantically involved with her. However, as I continued to read the remainder of the poem, I concluded that the poet was certainly in love with the woman he was describing, however, she was not emotionally vulnerable with him and did not truly let him into her heart. It was initially unclear to me whether the speaker and the object of his affections were lovers, married, or possibly complete strangers (with the poet simply possessing an unrequited love for the woman he was writing about).

Throughout this poem, it is evident that the poet desires an intimate relationship with the woman he is describing. It seems that he admires the complexity of her mind, over her physical appearance. The poet frequently compares himself and his emotions to a rose. In the second stanza, the poet describes the immense trust he has for the woman he desires. He states that her “slightest look will unclose [him]” as she proceeds to open him “petal by petal.” Moreover, the poet continues to describe himself as “her first rose” within this stanza. This line confirms that the poet and his lover were romantically involved. I believe that the rose is a symbol of the poet’s heart and vulnerability. He possesses a significant amount of trust and admiration for his lover, which allows her to look into the aspects of himself he has never shown anyone else. By giving his “rose” or his vulnerability to his lover, he is hoping that she will also trust him in return. As the poem progresses, however, the poet continues to battle with his frustration that his lover does not trust him.

As I was reading this poem, I also noticed that there was a significant shift in tone between each stanza of the poem. Furthermore, the diction in the first stanza of this poem uses words and phrases that indicate that the poet is intrigued by his lover. He does not understand her yet, but he has a strong desire to explore her persona and learn more. The tone in this portion of the poem is hopeful and curious, rather than frustrated or sad. Meanwhile, in the second and third stanzas, the poet uses diction and phrases such as “shut”, “close”, and “mysterious” to describe his lover and his current circumstances. This indicates that the tone has shifted from curious and hopeful, to vulnerable and sad. The poet yearns for his lover to open up to him in the same way that he has opened up to her, however, he begins to lose hope that this will happen. This desire extends into the fourth stanza as well. Here, through the usage of extreme diction such as “nothing”, “power”, “intense”, and “forever”, it becomes clear that the poet still possesses a strong curiosity to understand his lover. However, this desire continues to grow significantly stronger and the tone of the poem begins to border on desperation. As the poem progresses into the fifth stanza, the poet uses diction that indicates that he has accepted the mystery of the woman that he loves. He accepts that he “does not know what it is about [her] that closes and opens; only something in [him] understands that the voice of [her] eyes is deeper than all roses.” Thus, the tone shifts from desperate to calm, as he accepts that he will never be able to understand his lover but he recognizes that her complexity is greater than that of anyone else.

The last line of this poem states that “nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.” I found this line to be incredibly difficult to understand. Before this, the poet had not mentioned rain in his poem, or any physical feature of his lover apart from her eyes. The positioning of this line was also confusing to me. It was the concluding line of the poem. The placement of this line initially seemed jarring and out of place. However, after noticing that, in the third stanza, the poet described closing himself “as fingers” and only opening for his lover, the concluding line of this poem began to make more sense to me. The poet’s lover is described as having small hands because they are shut so tightly that they are smaller than rain and cannot be opened by anyone. The hands of the poet and his lover also serve as symbols of vulnerability and the last line of this poem illustrates the reluctance of the poet’s lover to reveal her vulnerabilities.

There were many challenging aspects of this poem that did not make immediate sense to me. Initially, the structure of this poem seemed random and did not seem to fit together. However, by taking the time to understand each connection that Cummings made and understanding the reasoning behind the placement of each line, I was able to gain a deeper understanding of this poem as a whole as the inner thoughts of a man who is at first bewildered and captivated by his lover’s ability to make him open up, then increasingly sad that he is unable to make her do the same.

I had been asked that question more times than I could count, especially when I was younger: “Are you a Daddy’s girl? Or a Mommy’s girl?” The answer was always both… or neither. While I love both of my parents dearly, the truth was, I was a Grandma’s girl. I have always been incredibly close to my Grandmother, and I always will be.  

My grandmother, who I call Amma, has been present throughout my entire life. She lives in the same house as my parents and I, and from my childhood years into the present, she has played a significant role towards raising me and shaping me into the person I am today. As a child, Amma did almost everything for me. She would drop me off at school, she would teach me how to read and write, and she would always prepare warm, home cooked meals for me when I would return home. For many years, she helped me with my homework, and sat by my bedside for hours while I was ill. The consistency of her quiet, yet impactful, presence filled my childhood with a sense of tranquility.

Amma is unconventional in many ways. She is loud and outspoken, encouraging those around her to adopt these tendencies as well. Despite growing up in India, during a time when feminism was frowned upon, Amma founded a feminism club and appointed herself as the president. She worked tirelessly to bring positive changes to her community, and to encourage the idea of female empowerment as a whole. She also influenced me in this respect—from an early age, Amma emphasized that I was capable of pursuing anything I wanted to, regardless of my gender. She would turn up her nose at the idea that women should be passive, and soft spoken. As a result of this, she always encouraged me to be loud, and to advocate for myself. 

Education has always been of utmost importance to Amma. She has always had great interest in the courses I am taking and my overall academic performance. From the time I was five years old to the present day, Amma has always been the person I run to with good academic news. Her beaming smile always brings me more joy than the grade itself. Amidst college applications and receiving an incessant influx of news, Amma has been a  cheerleader for me throughout. She waits excitedly for me to tell her good news, and she always provides support whenever I feel particularly swamped with tasks and work to complete. I can always count on Amma to provide me with the motivation to persevere against whatever obstacles are present in my path. 

However, despite her love for education and order, Amma has always found great amusement in my mischief and childhood shenanigans. In elementary school, I would frequently talk in class, and occasionally play pranks on my classmates. I thought my antics were harmless and quite hilarious. Unfortunately, my teachers did not always see it that way. They would frantically call Amma to inform her and would send me home with slips of paper for my parents to sign. The majority of these messages never made it to my parents. Amma would listen to my explanations with great intrigue, and ultimately, she would always laugh. In Amma’s eyes, only she was allowed to scold and discipline me. If anyone else were to attempt this, she would immediately jump to my defense, and emphasize that I was only a child. Amma herself, has always been a child at heart. Consequently, she always found amusement in my antics, and to an extent, would even encourage them. Whenever I was being scolded by my parents, or denied of something, Amma would always step in to mediate and to take my side. She was not only my protector throughout my childhood years, but she was also a friend.

 My strong connection with Amma also strengthened my connection with my culture, and language. Without the consistent influence of my Grandmother, it would have been challenging for me to experience cultural traditions, and gain exposure to my native language. Amma’s presence in my household, as well as in my life, served to shape me into the person that I am today. Her warm smiles and home cooked meals never fail to brighten my day. I consider Amma to be one of the most influential people in my life, and it is for this reason that I will always be my Grandma’s girl. 

My room is my safe space. In many ways, I believe my childhood bedroom to be a physical manifestation of my mind and my personality. This may sound far fetched, however, as I have grown and matured through the years, so has my room. From my childhood through the present, my room has been filled with a profusion of colors. There is no particular theme or common design across my room. It is composed entirely of random bursts of creativity. I find comfort in the chaos, and, despite the randomness of it all, there exists a strange sense of familiarity and relaxation that comes with residing in this space.

It is for this reason that I find my room to be such a source of comfort for me. After a long day at school, I can simply walk into my room and feel my stress levels reducing tenfold. It is like a small bubble of tranquility. I like to think that even if I am holding my breath everywhere else, in my room I can finally breathe. There exist no limits for my artistic bursts of motivation–I simply pick up a pen and begin to draw, write, or sketch. I feel free to do so without any external eyes watching me with their judgment. Moreover, I dislike when other people are in my room, my family included. I feel that the serenity of my space is rudely disrupted whenever others enter it. My room is supposed to be a shelter from the outside world, for me to relax and be productive. When I add others into that shelter, the ambiance becomes disrupted entirely. 

I usually like to keep my bedroom door locked. The outside world can be a raging ocean of distraction. My bedroom door is like a dam. It allows a small trickle of water into my room, but never enough to flood it entirely. My room is where I can work out my problems, and complete my tasks without the impending feeling of stress that comes with acknowledging my external surroundings. My locked bedroom door is not a symbol of hatred for the stressors that surround me. Rather, it is more like a filter that reduces distraction and allows me to focus on the important things. It is only an added bonus that a closed door serves to create a noise barrier as well, which enables me to complete my tasks all the more productively. 

Whenever I find myself ridden with boredom, I always begin to create new trinkets and decorations to add to my room. As one grows older, they gain memories, thoughts, and experiences. Their brain gains complexity and fullness. I believe my room has followed this pattern as well. My room used to be generic and empty. When I first moved into my house, my room had traces of Disney princesses and splashes of the color pink, but it seemed like a default room that any five year old would have. It did not feel like me, much less a representation of my thoughts. The transformation of my bedroom began slowly, with stickers and drawings taped to the walls. Eventually, I began to claim the space as my own and rearrange it to my liking. 

Throughout my life, I have always been hopping from hobby to hobby. I grow fascinated with new things very quickly, and I grow a desire to learn everything there is to know about them. My room is a very obvious byproduct of this. Subtle references to shows I’ve watched are scattered throughout every corner of my bedroom, and quiet traces of hobbies that once held my attention are present as well. Each hobby, interest, phase, or memory I have had has served to shape me as a person. Regardless, of how subtle that change may be. I believe each decoration, or poster, regardless of how small or seemingly insignificant, serves to form the personality of my room as well. 

To almost every teenage girl, her room is her sanctuary, and the place where she can most comfortably reside. For me especially, my room is the safe space where I can express my creativity and focus productively. In a lot of ways, my room is me. It represents my personality, my interests, and the different ways in which I have grown throughout the years. My room is more than just the place where I sleep, it is a tiny universe that exists only for me.

Jupiter is my favorite planet. It always has been and always will be. I vividly remember sitting among my peers in my third grade classroom and learning about planets and the solar system for the first time. “Jupiter is the largest planet in our solar system,” my teacher had said. “In fact, it is more than twice as large as all the other planets combined.” I was in awe. I could barely comprehend that something could be so large. Jupiter’s appearance also captivated me; it was a blur of oranges and yellows with a big, red spiral in the middle of it. There was no particular reasoning behind my sudden attachment to this massive gas planet that was 394 million miles away but I remained intrigued nonetheless. Nearly a decade later, I still remember a significant amount of information about the planet I was obsessed with throughout elementary school. 

As many know, Jupiter is the largest planet in our solar system. It is nearly eleven times as wide as the Earth and is composed entirely of swirling gasses and liquids. Considering that Jupiter has no true surface, if one were to attempt to land on it, they would simply fall through the thickening air and searing heat.Even if traveling the distance to Jupiter was financially and technologically feasible, it would be impossible to land on the planet and explore it as if it were a terrestrial planet. Due to its distance and form, not much is known about Jupiter. 

Furthermore, with Jupiter’s massive size also comes an incredibly strong gravitational pull. As a result, Jupiter has managed to attract many items floating through space into its orbit, including very large asteroids that eventually became Jupiter’s moons. In our solar system, Jupiter possesses the greatest number of moons in comparison to any other planet. As of right now, Jupiter is known to have eighty moons, each of which have orbital periods ranging from as short as twelve hours to as long as eight-hundred days. Jupiter itself has an orbital period of around twelve years. In other words, it takes Jupiter twelve years to complete a full orbit around the sun. Jupiter’s strong gravitational pull causes the weight of objects to be much heavier than they would be on Earth. For instance, an individual who weighs one hundred pounds on Earth, would weigh two hundred and fifty three pounds on Jupiter.

When looking from a telescope, Jupiter possesses one very distinct characteristic: the Great Red Spot. This spot is actually a storm that has been ongoing for over three centuries. The storm itself takes up such a large portion on Jupiter’s surface that nearly three Earths could fit inside. Jupiter’s Great Red Spot is like a gear trapped in between two conveyor belts. High speed winds flow in opposing directions and have trapped a spinning vortex of air in between them, much like a giant hurricane. Scientists have been observing this storm since the late 1800s but only recently learned, due to groundbreaking research, that the crimson color of Jupiter’s Great Red Spot is due to complex organic molecules, such as red phosphorus, that exist deep within Jupiter. 

Spiritually and astrologically, Jupiter is considered to be the planet of friendship and fulfilled wishes. It is believed that if Jupiter is placed well in one’s horoscope, one will be blessed with optimism and success. In Vedic astrology, Jupiter is known as the teacher of the other planets in the solar system, due to its age and massive size. Upon analyzing my own natal charts, I was able to find that Jupiter plays a significant role in my horoscope. Through discovering this, I developed an even deeper connection with the planet I’ve always found fascinating. I found it particularly intriguing to learn the differences in how Jupiter has been perceived scientifically and spiritually. Scientifically, Jupiter is portrayed as an intimidating planet filled with toxic gasses and numerous storms. This is certainly true. It would be impossible for human life to exist on a planet with the qualities of Jupiter, even if oxygen were readily available. Spiritually, however, Jupiter is not seen as a cold, distant planet. It is seen as a friend. Jupiter is said to have the qualities of a mentor throughout the course of one’s life. The astrological influence of Jupiter encourages individuals to pursue their curiosity and explore their passions. 

Throughout the years, I have enjoyed learning about Jupiter through a variety of different lenses. Even though it quickly became obvious to my third-grade self that I would never be able to visit or touch Jupiter. I like having the knowledge that, despite the distance, I can always be inspired scientifically and touched spiritually by the planet I have loved for so many years.

Best Selling American Author, Susan Cain once said: “Solitude matters, and for some people, it is the air they breathe.” 

I would like to think of myself as outgoing and friendly. Often, I am the one who initiates conversation with others and makes the first move in forming friendships. I can speak in front of crowds without a shred of anxiety, and if I am in a room full of new people, I somehow find a way to place myself in the spotlight. Despite all of this, I find people exhausting. While I have a deep sense of love for my friends, I still find myself absolutely wiped after spending a day out with them. This is not because my friends are mean or bad. In fact, I would trust them with my life if need be. Social interaction just makes me tired, regardless of how comfortable I may seem with it. 

Throughout my life, I have been surrounded by radiant people who never quite seem to get tired of interacting with others. My household is full of chattering extroverts. We’re all loud, opinionated, and never quite seem to stop talking. Externally, there appears to be no difference between the rest of my family and me. My outgoing personality is nearly identical to that of my father. The difference between the two of us, however, is that he truly finds people energizing. Being around others for long periods of time has only a positive effect on his energy levels. In short, his social battery seems to charge in the presence of others while mine drains instead. 

There exist only a select few individuals with whom I can interact with for hours on end without feeling exhausted. The two I can think of off the top of my head are my Grandmother and my childhood best friend Kaylee. It’s a very short list. This does not mean I do not love the other individuals in my life; I certainly do. However, I require a lot of alone time and space in order to thrive and others often seem to become frustrated by that. Growing up in a house full of extroverts, I often felt  guilty and self-conscious for preferring my own company. After a long day, I would unwind by locking my bedroom door and snuggling into my covers for hours to simply recharge. If I got a knock on the door, I would grumble and tell them to go away. My parents found this to be insulting, moody teenager behavior. Or worse, they would think I was sad or upset. Neither of these assumptions were true. My reason for isolating had no correlation with me being in a state of distress, it’s quite the opposite. I found being alone comforting. 

To many, this fact always comes as a shock. “How can you be drained? You love people.” and “People are meant to be social. How can you like being alone?” are some of the phrases I frequently hear upon telling people that my social battery is one that is quickly depleted. The worst possible outcome, however, is when others perceive my love for being alone as a hatred for them. I would like to clarify that I certainly do not possess a dislike for people. Although I am easily exhausted by excessive social interaction, I still find it fascinating to meet new people and form meaningful relationships with those around me. For a long time, I labeled myself as an extrovert because I believed that my socially confident personality meant that I had to be. My perception was that introverts were individuals who were shy, timid, and soft-spoken. The image I had of introversion did not match my personality at all. Many years of my life were spent convincing myself that I should love going out with my friends, and that I should have an infinite amount of social stamina. However, the reality of the matter is that I simply do not. 

There have been numerous occasions where I’ve declined plans because I did not possess the social energy nor the desire to interact with others on that particular day. I never verbalized this to those who had invited me, in fear of being seen as selfish. It was only when I was fourteen and had been talking with a friend about personality types and the difference between introversion and extroversion, that I was taught that these terms determine where one gets their energy from, not the nature of their personality. Those who are introverted gain energy from being alone while those who are extroverted gain energy from being around others. One can be shy, yet extroverted, or outgoing, yet introverted. Being introverted or extroverted is innate—it is not something that one can control. Since learning this information, I have come to realize that my introversion is not something that I should feel guilty about and that I am no less of an introvert simply because I can carry a conversation with a stranger. Despite having a large circle of friends, and possessing a seeming social confidence, at the end of the day, I prefer my own company over that of anyone else. 

As children, we were taught to sit in a circle and sing “rain rain go away, come again another day” whenever the windows were plastered with raindrops and the heavy thrum of water droplets echoed on the roof. At the time, I too wanted the rain to go away. It would prevent me from playing outside with my friends, and it made my hair wet and frizzy whenever I would dare to step outside. Everyone would hide under their umbrellas, in fear of even a droplet of water touching their body. However, there would always be a few children who would walk through the rain without a care in the world. These children would stop to splash in the puddles or stick their tongues out to catch the raindrops. I would always watch them from the safety of my umbrella. To me, and to many others, the idea that rain could be seen as a friend rather than an enemy was quite peculiar. 

However, recent psychological research illustrates that people who love rain (also called pluviophiles) have been shown to experience a greater amount of happiness in life than those who dislike rain. This idea is bizarre and counterintuitive. To most, rain is associated with sorrow. When it is raining, the sky is dark, the sun is nowhere to be seen, and with that, a majority of the population experiences a dip in serotonin levels due to the lack of sunshine. In fact, in rainy climates, individuals have a higher likelihood of experiencing chronic feelings of sadness, which could even lead to depression. Regardless, pluviophiles continue to smile at the sky as it threatens to rain, and experience heightened feelings of joy when a downpour does begin. Those who have a love for rain are not only content whilst it is raining, these individuals are also shown to be happier and more agreeable as a whole than the average person. 

Happiness researcher Dr. Matt Killingsworth concluded that there exists a direct correlation between happiness and being present. Those who enjoy the moment rather than stressing about the future or the past are objectively more at ease than those who are constantly fretting. Pluviophiles are especially in tune with the present moment and their surroundings. Often, rain can be seen as an irritating barrier due to the fact that it disrupts outdoor activities and causes clouds to block sunlight. However, those who love rain never fret about its potential arrival. They recognize that regardless of what the weather entails, they will find merriment in it. These individuals generally carry this mentality throughout all aspects of their lives as well. Furthermore, a large portion of happiness comes from one’s self-perception and overall confidence. The happiest of individuals are those who prioritize their own happiness above the opinions of others. Pluviophiles run through the rain without any concern for their hair getting wet, their makeup smearing, or how they appear to those around them. They simply allow their love for the rain to drive their impulses and are exponentially happier as a result of it. 

The love for rain which pluviophiles possess also allows them to find beauty in things that others associate with sadness. Rain is typically a weather condition that is used to set the tone of gloom and sorrow in films and literature. It is also used to represent misfortune when it begins to pour randomly and spoil an outdoor event. Those with a love for rain recognize the melancholy that is associated with it. However, these individuals are also more likely to accept this aspect of rainy weather and use the time to introspect whilst enjoying the rain, rather than mulling over the gloom that is commonly associated with it. Through this, pluviophiles are able to find beauty in sadness and are not afraid to explore deeper aspects of themselves. 

While many perceive rain to be an isolating and somber event that causes nothing but an inconvenience. Those who possess a love for rain are ultimately more free-spirited and content with life. The children who never worried about shielding themselves with umbrellas are the same children who grow up to be happy teenagers that were able to maintain their optimism through a global pandemic that caused many to spiral into pessimism. These individuals take any situation with stride, and allow themselves to always see the silver lining within the clouds. 

It was a common occurrence. My dad would chase me around the house with a math workbook, and I would repeatedly dart away at the sight of it and hide under a table. Eventually, he would catch me and usher me to learn. I would sulk. I was not a straightforward child to teach. I would turn my nose up at things that failed to captivate my attention. It took a great deal of convincing and bribing to get me to consider doing something I did not want to do. Many assumed this was because I was unable to do it. That couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, when I was forced to, I excelled. The reality of the matter was, I just found no purpose or excitement in mundane, logical activities such as math. 

When forced to sit still in a classroom setting, my mind still continued to run. I found comfort in this fact. Despite being physically unable to leave, my mind was essentially untouchable by anyone. Often, I would completely lose track of time; I would get whisked into an intricate daydream, and before I knew it, the bell would ring, and class would be over. I was not a lazy child by any means. I would begrudgingly complete my work as fast as possible. The less time I had to spend in a painfully logical and structured frame of mind, the better. The society we live in today places a significant amount of emphasis on one’s ability to think analytically. The careers that are the most highly regarded, are the ones that are based on analytical principles. Reminders of this reality haunted me everywhere; in order to truly succeed, I needed to force myself to have a mindset that felt unnatural. I felt as if I was being forced to write with my left hand; the hand I wanted to use was my right.

It became increasingly obvious to me that my thoughts were supposed to follow a certain format. I was supposed to think in structured patterns, as opposed to in random flares. The three words “show your work” made me huff in irritation each time I saw them. I could solve the problems, yes; but the answers came to me in unorganized bursts, as opposed to in a systematic and orderly way. I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t complete tasks the way that I wanted to. Why was the way that I thought, perceived as unstructured, when I was producing the same output as someone who completed the task in an “organized”  manner?

The way I thought was abstract and dreamlike. With it, came a fervent desire to avoid the real world and the rationality that came with it. However, I was repeatedly reminded that I needed to conform to the structure that was being imposed on me. The thought of it made me recoil. For a long time, I stubbornly refused to complete tasks in the way that I was expected to. I believed that if I simply avoided the constant mold that everyone was trying to place on me, I could maintain my originality while also operating within my small bubble of comfort. 

If my past self were to have a conversation with my present self, she would groan in disappointment at the way my perception of this very issue has altered over time. I still find myself sighing in annoyance when I’m bound by the prison of logic, however, I find that I’ve made a strange sort of compromise with the world around me. The ability to think the way I’m “supposed” to think has been hammered into me for a long time, and while I possess the capability to switch to that mentality more easily than when I was younger, it still feels slightly strained. 

I would not say that my thinking has conformed to the desired mold of society. I would say, however, that I’ve made my own mold for myself that coexists with that of the world around me. The present and past versions of myself may disagree about a variety of things, but every version of me can confirm that life is significantly more enjoyable when it is guided by wonder and possibility, as opposed to mundane practicality and rigid analysis.