Cold Brew Chronicles: Number 2

Part 1:

A watched pot never boils. I can’t be the only one who sometimes feels as if this proverb is true. A few nights ago, I was making spaghetti with red sauce for my brother and I to have for dinner.

The bubbles lined the very bottom of the pot for what felt like ten minutes before finally coming to a full boil. Now, if I had been at home with the electric stovetop, I would’ve expected as much.

But, our Airbnb has a gas stove, and I’ve found that water boils much faster.

To my point: it felt like the pot wasn’t boiling, and the irrational part of me was suggesting that my constant checking was impeding its progress towards rolling bubbles ready to accept the pasta.

Forgive what may seem like a metaphor being stretched thin, but I feel as if I’m the water in the pot, struggling to boil, but knowing that eventually the boil will come.

What people don’t tell you about entering your 20s is that the path, for perhaps the first time ever, is not clear cut.

What do I mean?

Well, in middle school, I was told I was prepping for high school. One option.

In high school, I was told I was prepping for college. One option.

Now, I’m in college, and I’m told that I’m prepping for this abstract as f*ck concept: life. Infinitely many options.

Let me first acknowledge a few privileges.

1. I have infinitely many options because I was born white, middle-class, went to very good schools, and will get a degree from another good school.
2. My family did not require that I work right after high school. My focus was always on where I would go to college and what I would study while I was there.

So, here I am. One week away from my 21st birthday and about to enter my junior year at Brown, and the bubbles are starting to boil a little faster.

I can tell that they’re going to do something. But, unlike the pot of water, I feel as if someone poured mentos and coke into the water and I’m just waiting to see what the hell the reaction is going to cause in the long run.

Maybe it doesn’t make sense. But if you found that this resonated with you, or perhaps you’re older and you remember feeling this, let me know!

Part 2:

Ahh yes. You’ve arrived at the point in the piece where I try and shove in at least some reference to coffee in order to fit the name.

Luckily, connecting my daily experience to coffee is not difficult.

If you’ve ever ordered something on a consistent basis — whether it be coffee, your favorite sandwich, whatever, you know the experience of waiting to see if it matches your expectations.

Is it good? Or did the barista, sandwich maker, etc. miss that day?

There’s a few moments of uncertainty that exist between when you slide your credit card out of the reader and when they call your name.

That uncertainty of whether or not what you ordered is going to be just as you like it or not is characteristic of what I’m feeling about what I want to do.

I’m taking a class about Egypt right now, and a fleeting part of me wants to be an archaeologist.

The other, more realistic to my interests part of me is struggling to balance how I can pursue law, politics, and policy-making in a way that makes sense.

These next two years are like those moments of uncertainty between card reader and hearing your name. Only time will tell where I’ll end up.

Part 3:

You may be thinking that Part 3 is going to be related to Part 1 or Part 2. It, in fact, is not.

Part 3 is all about Pride Month.

There’s a line of reasoning I’ve heard frequently about growing up gay, queer, genderqueer, etc.

Essentially, the argument is that by growing up in the closet, you lose a lot of your adolescence. You “lose” time in experiencing relationships, romance, and intimate connection with even your closest friends and family.

I have to say that I’m not sure I experienced the lack of intimate connection with friends and close family. Many of my friends didn’t care when I came out, for one. And two, my dad and brothers weren’t surprised when I told them I wasn’t straight, so I didn’t really have an experience of a shifting reality of our relationship outside of the norm of growing up as a teenager.

I mean, look. There’s a video of me singing and dancing to Party in the USA by Miley Cyrus. I’m not sure I’d even believe someone if they told me they were surprised I was gay to be honest with you.

I mean…come on.

And I don’t think you would either.

But, the degree to which I felt like I missed out on dating and having romantic relationships is dramatic.

I remember having my real first kiss as a 19 year old on a bench in the freezing cold.

What was surreal about it?

I had no idea what I was doing. Now, you can make fun of me…and I would completely understand.

But, I remember reflecting on this experience and thinking to myself that if only I had meaningful dating relationships in high school, I wouldn’t have been such a klutz.

Instead, I spent the first two years of high school confused, the second two closeted, and didn’t come out until my first semester of college.

I don’t regret the path I took to living my truest expression of myself.

Now, the challenge is to always stay true to that expression.