νόστος
3/21/2021
nostos - “A homecoming or homeward journey as a literary subject or topos; specifically the return of Odysseus and the other Greek heroes of the Trojan War, as narrated especially in the Odyssey. Also (in extended use): the conclusion of a literary work.” (https://www.lexico.com/en/definition/nostos)
It’s 2AM. I’m in my kitchen, listening to some stranger’s Italian Summer playlist on Spotify to match my current travel fantasy. Our apartment’s fridge groans in the back as it always does, humming lower and louder than my music, and its sound rumbles through the entire room. Next to me, my copy of My Brilliant Friend lies waiting to be read, the front french flap neatly wedged between some midpoint page, splitting the words I have explored from the rest. My cup, that dark blue one I bought from Austin solely for its funny shape, is filled to the brim with water that vibrates at every bold keystroke. Strike, strike, strike, and this white page fills with neat letters making words making sentences. I set the scene for my first “real” blog post.
As someone who has always preferred the privacy and rawness of a handwritten journal, I’m not especially drawn to blogging. I have always had this sense that if I were to put anything out into the world, it wouldn’t be something so mundane as my everyday life; it wouldn’t be something that didn’t explicitly show my creative or analytical prowess manifested. And surely, it wouldn’t be something so abstract, so seemingly purposeless in how it feels like a shout into cyberspace. I already have my finsta for screaming into the digital void, with a select few as my daily audience. Why do this?
My friend Amy (best book bud!), recently shared a website with me, dating back to 1998/1999, about the blogger’s student life at Berkeley. 1999, I had thought. 21 years ago, the year I was born, the turning of a century and millennium. For me, it was, quite literally, a lifetime ago. And yet, these blog posts made me feel nostalgic, not for some bygone time, but for my own freshman and half-completed sophomore years — the Pre-Covid Years, given that we’re about two and a half semesters into virtual school now. In any case, I saw a lot of these “quintessential” Berkeley experiences in these posts; things like Math 1B, VLSB, Strawberry Creek. In these recounted tales of friendship, told in the bold artistic choice of Comic-Sans, I couldn’t help but think of my own: late nights in Unit 2 Griffiths Hall eating popcorn chicken, walking to Safeway at 3AM to buy watermelon, brunch at La Note and Thai Temple and Berkeley Social Club. I suppose I’m writing this so that some Cal student in 2042 (Go Bears!) unearths this digital fossil and feels, as I do now, that the uncertainties and joys of today have been felt in the past and will continue to be felt in the future.
So where to start? You’re probably wondering at my choice of blog title. Joycelin and I, after an extensive Google search investigating what νόστος meant in Madeline Miller’s dedication page of Circe, learned that it translated to the theme of nostos (with its definition so kindly provided by me at the top of this post ;) ). A homecoming of sorts. Nostalgia. As I have only recently returned to my Berkeley apartment, plus all this reminiscing, I’m sure you can see why I felt just a smidge clever for choosing nostos as the title…beyond the inherent ~ cool ~ aesthetic appeal I think it also has (hehe). Of course, on a literal sense, home is actually Texas, where my family and memories of childhood are. But at the same time, coming back to Berkeley, to my first real apartment, to the sunsets on Telegraph and dozens of boba shops and that one grove of eucalyptus trees — I felt as though this were a homecoming to what I perceive as my “college self,” a return to my first taste of autonomy and independence. With this blog post, something I’m doing on a self-indulgent midnight whim, I feel like I’m taking a first step towards reclaiming my time that I haven’t felt in a while. I’m pretty Type A for a lot of things, with a constantly updated Google Calendar and preference for outlining everything, but when it comes to my creative projects, I’m always scared of how deeply invested I’d be in my work that my schedule would turn to chaos. That, or I’d simply place it as a lesser priority to the demands of college/recruiting/everything. It’s easy for me to forget how spontaneous inspiration sometimes is, and how once it comes, you need to seize it in midair. So I guess I’m hoping that by reflecting here, I’ll gain the courage and momentum to achieve the ultimate homecoming: returning to storytelling.
On a more serious note, the recent violence against Asians does have me really scared. I’m not sure how else to combat this issue (of course beyond donating when possible and amplifying Asian stories/narratives), but this is also not something I can ignore or choose to exclude. I…don’t yet think I have the right words to really describe this fear’s shape or taste. But I think this still needs to be said and cemented here.
Anyways, it’s 3AM now, so I best end it here before this becomes just a massive sea of sleep-deprived text! This was an introduction of sorts, and I’m not sure how my tone will change in next blog posts, whenever that may be, but I feel ready to face the world tonight. As I (hopefully) become more consistent with my creative work, I do want to continue this. I think it’s one thing to write in my journal the day’s reflection, but the prospect of some future reader seeing themselves in whatever memories or feelings I share…gives this writing experience a different sort of quality, even if no one ever reads it. It’s like I’m writing to this shapeless spectre of a reader, perhaps forever nonexistent, but already very real to me. Gn!
Thumbnail picture is from Sleepy Cat Books in Berkeley (would highly recommend a visit)
Current Faves: My Brilliant Friend, The Poppy War, Portrait of a Lady on Fire, Justice League: The Snyder Cut vs Josstice League, the color cerulean, fried zucchini
