Traditionally I’ve prescribed to a version of balance where big complements small. If I’m wearing big jeans I’ll wear a little top, fancy pants and a junky jacket, frilly dress and functional kicks. Salad and french fries, less sleep and more coffee, nights in and nights out.
Sophomore year is a more is more time. It crept in first in clubs, where I started doing one in a much bigger way and ended up doing them all “bigger”. Then with classes, where I started out thinking I would take Spanish and ended up in a class on translation. Slowly everything is becoming more, more, more, until it’s not so slow any more, time, like everything else, speeding up.
The rules of balance seem to be those of give and take, a loss of pareto efficiency where if one side wins, the other side must surely be losing. But as ridiculous as it sounds, my big boots are adding value to my outfit, balancing not through detraction but through enlarging my sartorial pie. Clearly I’ve been spending too long in economics classrooms. And clearly I’m in need of grounding, of figuring out how to let all the big things in my life slide together, make space for each other. But I do believe that even if this pace is unsustainable, it’s forcing me to learn to balance through adding rather than detracting, forcing growth in a brutal but ultimately exciting way.
So big boots. And even on days when I only manage to scrounge up a small bit of motivation, big dreams.