It’s the end of July and Collegiettes have been relieved of the dynamic, overbearing credit hours for almost three months now. If you’re anything like me, at the beginning of May you made a list in your iPhone notes of all of the things you wanted to accomplish this summer. (Okay maybe not everyone is as OCD as me, but still.) Not only had it been my goal to successfully complete my magazine internship while exploring the island of Manhattan, but I had planned to set aside the time for the personal, little things that just seem so big during the school year—filling the pages of my journal, completing my 10-book long summer reading list, purchasing a floppy hat, etc. Little did I know.
Little did I know that after living in Manhattan for 10 weeks, learning many of things, one of my biggest takeaways would be that you simply can’t replace experiences. You can write about them, yes, but what do we miss out on during the present while we document the past? Currently, my journal pages are empty, only two books have been checked off my reading list, and I’ve yet to find the perfect floppy hat. However, while these checkboxes are empty, my heart and mind are fulfilled. I have been so busy immersing myself in the restaurants, destinations, events, and beauty of this city that I even missed my deadline for Rachel and The City a couple of weeks ago (which is so unlike me).
I’m going to try and make this short. I’m going to try and make this sweet: I have exactly 13 days left in this city of which I can’t seem to fathom, let alone allow myself to spend anymore time typing on this laptop. Wherever you are this summer—studying abroad, taking a mini vacation with your family, etcetera, don’t let the fear of forgetting get in the way. As an editorial intern with an affinity for writing, you could say I’m being a bit hypocritical for encouraging you to stray away from your personal writing for a bit. But the thing is, if you’re in a beautiful city where something as pure as passion can drive a dream into reality, why would you spend your free hours documenting when you can be living? You should do everything you’ve wanted to do and if that leaves you with little time to recount your days with pen and paper, then so be it.
In 13 days, when I fly home with my overstuffed duffels and suitcases, that’s when I’ll feel the most inspired to write. I know me. There’s something about the intense longing for something more, the nostalgia of once being immersed in a world of inspirational bliss, knowing that you’ve been forced to leave it all behind. And for what? In 13 short days, that’s when I’ll sit on my laptop for hours, typing away, my own wanderlust dominating my fingertips. The next time you read from me I will have left Manhattan, indulged in my undeniable passion for magazines, frankly still in disbelief that I’ve had the opportunity to call New York City my home for the summer. And it’s then that I will immerse myself into familiarity once again—with a book and a pen.