I used to be a good reader.
I think most people expect me to be now. But admittedly, though I love to read, I’m not good at it anymore. The nightstand near my bed is piled high with novels I promise to one day finish.
A friend asks if I’ve read "Fahrenheit 451," "Malibu Rising" or "The Brothers Karamazov." I say I haven’t gotten to it yet. Another asks if I’ve seen "Whiplash" or "New Girl" yet, and I assure her it’s next on my list. My grandma wonders if I’ve looked through her old belongings she set out in a pile for me, and I tell her I haven’t gotten the chance.
It’s concerning now that my “To read” section of my Goodreads account has somehow surpassed my “Have read” shelf.
Somewhere between all these papers, social gatherings, interviews and extracurriculars, I’m meant to read 134 books, finish seven series, have lunch with three CEOs and still make time to read The New York Times Daily Briefing.
Somewhere between dining hall breakfasts, 18 credits, dance rehearsals and library shifts, I’m meant to make meals with four different friends, practice the piano and call my sisters.
Somewhere between eight o’clock exams and midnight deadlines, I’m meant to be well rounded, to have hobbies that extend beyond my schoolwork, to volunteer, to exercise, to eat right and to pray.
In the rare and quiet moments when I sit in this space between, I marvel at the warmth of it. How beautiful these scarce and soft betweens are, when my mind is no longer overwhelmed by all the things I need to do and instead focuses on what I’m currently doing.
“The best four years of my life,” an old ND alum assures me at a tailgate. He reminisces on snowball fights on South Quad, Dome dances, laundry room debacles and the chaotic student section. Never once does he mention midterms, internships or assignments. His college years weren’t measured by what he needed to do, but what he did in those moments between.
And yet, it’s always so difficult for me to switch up my routine. I tell a friend from class I can’t meet her for dinner because I can’t afford to spend an extra hour in the dining hall. I pass by the grotto, assuring myself I’ll take a moment to kneel the next time I have free time, unsure when that will be. As my head hits my pillow, I think about tomorrow’s duties, forgetting today’s beauty.
But these routine markers that approach so eminently — the papers, exams, meetings, commitments and networking events — are not what I will measure my life by.
As I think back to my high school years, where I was filled with brash anxiety, what are the moments I remember the most? Yes, I recall the sleepovers, the cafeteria jukebox singalongs, the park picnics and prom dresses. But I also remember the sweltering feeling of stress, of knowing that the next four years of my life depended upon these four.
Now that I’ve arrived here, I don’t want my future self to have this same anxiety when she thinks about college. All the work I put in during high school has led me to here, and I refuse to let these same pressures consume four more years of my life. I will not measure my college years in the same way I measured high school: by A-pluses and recommendation letters.
I will measure not by my GPA, LinkedIn connections, number of lectures attended or number of miles I’ve run. I will measure not by the hours spent bent over my textbooks or locked up in Hesburgh.
I will measure my life by the laughter, the spontaneous concerts, the walks around the lake, the late-night ramen noodles, the friends I’ve made, the songs I’ve listened to, the roads I’ve driven. I will measure these four years by the egg white omelets shared with my two early rising friends, the stale smell sitting within the walls of the Rockne dance rehearsal space, the pinks and oranges of a sunset reflecting over St. Mary’s lake, the sound of the chants at a midnight drum circle and the books I’ve read.
I will measure my life by the betweens.
Gracie Eppler is a sophomore Business Analytics and English major from St. Louis, MO. Her three top three things ever to exist are 70’s music, Nutella and Smith Studio 3, where she can be found dancing. Reach her at geppler@nd.edu.
