Reading Chapter 11 on Babel, I draw strong correlations in my life to the time when I left home for college. Up 'til that point, most of my conscious life had gone the way that I expected and had planned it. I had a shoddily thought out back up in Columbia (Chicago excited me) my contacts at Purchase and at home were reassuring because I guess that's the way they'd previously handled this. (As for me I had and still hold some reservations about even going to school for film) Though a sad through line at this point I'm, I suppose, contractually obliged to respect is the buoying support of my family's bank.
I hadn't realized then how much of what I knew was interwoven with who I knew wrapped up by routine in a messy half spontaneous bundle of precocious, privileged, ready-made notions. I remember having the mindset that if everyone had their principles set than we could argue them to the end of time and the world would be better off for it. Though I rarely opened my mouth about it, instead letting untold stress build and collapse unsuspectingly (or so I thought) in contentious situations.
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