I’m hungry. I’m getting food soon, but I can feel my stomach eating itself. Hunger sucks; it makes you feel, well, hungry. But it’s not just physical hunger that we experience.

As my stomach growls, telling me to eat, I take note of the physical, painful feeling that this form of hunger brings. It’s a feeling that, while unpleasant, grounds you in the present, sending a strong message to you that you need to drop whatever you’re doing and refuel. This is physical hunger.

There is another kind of hunger as well. In fact, I’m sure there are many, but this one is the other major one that comes to mind: spiritual, or existential hunger. This is the hunger of desire. Not desire for physical sustenance, but for achievement, recognition, and success; that all too common word which means a million different things to a million different people.

Now that we’ve established the two forms hunger commonly takes, which is more important? The obvious answer seems to be physical hunger, as three weeks without food and we won’t even be able to contemplate existential hunger. This is true, but what becomes of a person who ignores their hopes and dreams, their wishes and desires?

Everyone wants their physical and spiritual desires to be sated, but I’d argue that both are equally important. If you don’t eat and focus solely on your goals, you’ll die long before you ever achieve them. If you eat plentifully but never do the things you’re passionate about, you may live a long life, but it will likely be an unfulfilling, empty one, ruled by base, instinctual desires.

So, how do we find the balance? Well, your guess is as good as mine. I think that balance looks different for all of us. We all, for the most part, strive to eat enough food and for that food to be healthy, but no one is perfect. In the same vein, we all have our aspirations and generally try to move ourselves towards achieving them, but this doesn’t always work out the way we want it to.

I think we should be conscious of both kinds of hunger, as we can’t live a full life without either of them. Take care of your body, your health, but take care of your mind as well, your dreams, the things that make you tick. These two kinds of hunger feed off each other, and if you give enough attention to them, you’ll find both their bellies will be literally and metaphorically full.

I, like many people, deal with regret often. When it’s particularly prevalent in my mind, it can take over everything and cast a dark shadow over my life. This is incredibly frustrating and depressing; so why does my title sing regret’s praises?

Regret, like any emotion, or word for that matter, is subject to interpretation. What I regret may not be what you regret, and vice versa. Regret is, however, almost always associated with negativity. On the surface, this seems logical, as regret is an emotion we associate with pain and sadness. While it’s true that regret can be painful, it’s also a propellent.

Regret is typically categorized in two ways: potentially life-altering what-if decisions, and FOMO. The former is the more severe but less prevalent form. This type of regret typically takes the form of examining past fork-in-the-road decisions, and obsessing over whether you chose the right path. It affects a good chunk of people, particularly older people, but fortunately it’s typically less prevalent in day-to-day life (at least as far as I understand; I’m 21 so my perspective is surely biased).

The second form regret takes is FOMO, or Fear Of Missing Out. This form of regret is more common, particularly among the younger generation. It can occur for many reasons, but it’s generally associated with small, low-pressure decisions, such as going to a party, that you decide not to take. These decisions typically feel correct at the time you make them, but later, particularly if your night is uneventful, you’ll think back on them and wish you’d decided the other way. The advent of social media has greatly worsened this form of regret, as by seeing people’s extravagant experiences, it’s easy to develop feelings of FOMO, even though the concert or vacation they’re posting about never would’ve involved you in the first place.

So, where is the positivity? Well, if you’re able to separate feelings of regret from feelings of self-deprecation, something which I struggle with but have been getting better at recently, you can examine your regrets, particularly short-term forms like FOMO, and treat them as learning moments. I recently felt some FOMO when I declined an opportunity to hang out at a friend’s place. At the time, I felt I’d made the right choice, but as the night progressed and I didn’t do much, I felt regret creep in.

I typically have a bad, almost allergic reaction to regret, but this time I was able to examine it with some objectivity. The feeling I was experiencing was tied to my decision not to go to my friend’s, but if I think about the consequences of that choice, they’re pretty minor. I will get to see my friend again soon, and this surely won’t be the last time I’m invited over. Therefore, all that’s really left is a few hours of boredom, and the memory of this experience that can aid you in the next FOMO-inducing choice you’re confronted with. Upon reflection, I would’ve preferred hanging out with my friend. I’m not mad that I didn’t, and It’s not the end of the world, I’ll just choose differently next time.

That’s the power of regret; it inspires a change in behavior. If you wish you would’ve done something differently, you can do it differently now. It won’t be exactly the same, and surely there are some outliers, some time-bound decisions that you can never take again, but even those are useful. Negative, regretful feelings and memories still push us towards new decisions and away from ones that make us feel bad.

Regret is like our brain’s autocorrect; it helps steer us towards positive experiences by reminding us how much we disliked the negative ones. So, if you find yourself regretting something, thank your brain for helping you figure out what you like and don’t like, and use that feeling to make your next choice.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a staunch skeptic in almost all areas of life. I never bought into alien abduction stories, conspiracies, or even more trivial things like if the girl sitting across from me in class actually liked me, or if she was just saying hi because she wanted to increase the odds of me lending her a pencil. A word often associated with these confusing, unexplainable phenomena, is supernatural

Merriam-Webster offers two similar yet distinct definitions for the word, the latter of which I believe is most helpful in describing my feelings toward the word. I list it below:

“Departing from what is usual or normal especially so as to appear to transcend the laws of nature”

With Halloween behind us, I imagine the usage of this word has plateaued for the year, even so, I believe it’s just as useful in describing non-spooky things. In particular, the feeling I have right now. I’m sitting in a coffee shop, typing away in the corner by the window.

The music is a mix of yacht rock and alternative; the perfect complement to creative endeavors. Outside, the air is brisk, more so than it has been recently. As an assortment of fall leaves are picked up by the wind and deposited a few feet from their original location, I am at peace.

The sun is shy today; it’s obscured by a colony of clouds bearing a striking resemblance to mashed potatoes, a reminder of the season of giving and the festivities to come. There are many dogs about; curiously sniffing the piles of foliage and stopping every so often to get an extra whiff, sometimes to the dismay of their owners.

More notable than the canines though are the birds which have taken interest in the coffee shop’s outdoor seating. Their claws bend around the tops of the chairs, securing them to their wooden perches. Typically, they’re searching for leftovers, but this particular area has no trace of food.

People pass by in various stages of winter clothing; there are those who are not yet ready to accept the colder temperatures, flaunting their shorts defiantly (I am one of those people), and then there are those already donning gloves and hats, a seeming overreaction to 60 degree weather.

I’ve strayed away from my original word, but I think that’s the point. Nothing about my current setting or experience is particularly remarkable. In fact, it’s very much to the contrary. However, thanks to what I can best describe as a feeling of homeostasis, it’s as though I’m transcending the world around me. Not like a spirit or a ghost, but as a person who’s fortunate enough to have a favorable state of affairs in life on this saturday afternoon.

I know my experience is not a universal one, that there are people out there feeling better and worse than me, unfortunately more so the latter. That’s not the point though. I believe, whatever the circumstances we find ourselves in, there’s always something to be grateful for. And so, dear reader, I conclude this piece with a wish. I know not your circumstances, nor your inner mind, just as you don’t know mine, but I wish you good health and peace in the times to come.

Maybe the supernatural isn't about demons or wizards; rather, it’s a base desire we all seek as human beings: to transcend the feelings, problems, and pains of the mortal world.

It’s November in Washington, DC, yet I’ve still been routinely treated to 70 degree days more often than not. Even when the temperature dips below this threshold, it’s never colder than the mildest of fall days. There’s a nice breeze that carries me with every step I take. The clouds blow by slowly, occasionally bringing rain with them, but more often than not they simply exist, swaying with the air. Then, there’s the sun.

By this time of the year, and as it has done so many years before this, the Sun should be growing shy, peeking out from behind the clouds, but even when it’s unobscured it should be conserving its heat. Right now, It’s doing no such thing. The blazing orb we gaze at every day has decided we need some extra warmth as the winter approaches. Its beams rejuvenate me and my peers, and I am bewildered at its continued strength, though profoundly grateful.

It has been a good year so far, but winter’s approach always brings feelings of unease. The bitter chill of the morning air, dry, red hands, cracking when they’re exposed. These things will still come, of this I have no doubt. I will face them when they do, but for now, I am in awe.

As Thanksgiving approaches, I have so many people I cherish. This year though, I’ll be adding a celestial body to the list.

You wail as you’re ripped from the womb
It’s the only thing you’ve ever known
You’re greeted by a man in white
He bears polished teeth

Home, a place, but also a metaphor
You grow, day by day
Your first steps are a waddle at best
But determination is etched on your face
After dozens of falls, you stay on your feet

Mom and Dad don’t talk as much anymore
You’re told they’ll be better off apart
You doesn’t understand

Puberty arrives, and with it depression
“The world is tough”, your father would say
Your mother is more comforting
Trips between homes are routine

Death in the family
Grandpa was pushing his luck at 94
His body is stiff
You’d rather not look

A girlfriend
Love
Your baby cousin is born
It is a time of growth

Moving out
She says long distance isn’t her thing
You find a steady job
20 becomes 21, and 22, and 23…

Lovers come and go, as do friends
You settle down at 48
Wall street work has its benefits
You die of a heart attack

Clothes, dirty and clean, populate my floor. They’re arranged in ways which lend them animate qualities — a shirt laying face down, its sleeves splayed out in the form of someone who has drank too much and has become one of those inflatables outside of a car dealership.

There are discolorations on my plastic makeshift desk. I often try to wipe them off, only to realize they are not dirt or grime; they are scratches from the repeated dragging of a mouse on a non-mousepad surface.

There are remnants of yesterday’s eggs sitting atop my computer, their yellow hues earning a brownish tint over time. I should really wipe them off, and I will, but I know the more I say that the more I’ll never do it. Actions speak louder than words or whatever.

My guitar sits atop its perfectly good guitar case — a puzzling sight. Do I really not have the five seconds to zip it up? Clean laundry adorns my bed, but also my shelf, growing its territory by the day.

The floor is actually pretty clean, save for a colony of dust which lays in the furthest recesses under my desk.

The counter could use some work; grime and gunk from frequent cooking and very infrequent cleaning have left the marble, the nicest thing in the room, pockmarked with the afterbirth of repetitive, bland meals. I should really start using that new egg sauce I bought.

Our shower, as well as our dishwasher, are operational now. It’s quite a sight to behold. It’s also hilarious we hadn’t done something about it sooner. Procrastination is easy when you’re young and even easier when you’re young and in college; we have a phrase for it: “that’s a tomorrow problem”.

Perhaps I’ll tidy things up a bit later, but we both know that’s an unlikely prospect.

Have you ever sat around on a sunday and felt like shit afterwards? Of course you have, everyone has. Why is that though? What makes doing nothing so bad in modern society?

I find myself constantly longing for a variety of different positions. Whether it’s prestige on a soccer field, renown as a writer, or success as a politician; much like a kid, I still want the moon and the stars.

Interestingly though, I’ve experienced these feelings far more intensely as I’ve progressed through my college career, and it has often led me to believe I’m wasting my time by playing video games or watching TV.

It has been over 6 months now since I quit social media, and though it has done wonders for my health, it has also left me with a profound feeling of FOMO. My friends are far more informed about current events than I am because almost every app they use discusses them. They find out about things weeks before I do, and despite my critiques of social media platforms, I would be lying if I said I didn’t find much of the content on TikTok or Instagram hilarious. These apps also produce incredibly addicting content, so It’s a double-edged sword of sorts.

After abandoning these platforms, I feel a sort of freedom, but also disconnection. The time I’ve gained by eliminating hours of scrolling has been invested into other pursuits, but I still feel a lingering emptiness sometimes. As the hourglass of college loses its final grains of sand, I am in a tricky position.

Social media is often a crucial method of socializing, as well as an increasingly important characteristic of the job market. I feel more and more pressure to redownload the apps, despite my dislike of them. That brings me to productivity.

If you spend time on any of the popular social media apps, you’ll see updates about your friends’ lives, as well as the lives of high school acquaintances that have begun to fade from memory. You’ll see news updates, funny skits, and day-in-the-life videos where millionaires show off their penthouses.

The effect that this fire hose of media has on your brain is known and discussed, but it’s rarely addressed. When almost everyone, whether you know them or not, is posting their highlights; a trip they took, an award they won, or an organization they’re involved in, it can leave you (I know it has left me) feeling bad about yourself.

“My life’s not like that”, you may think to yourself. “What am I doing wrong?”

Chances are, nothing, but it’s hard to realize that when you’re constantly consuming information far faster than you can process it.

The reality is, every single one of these people are posting a narrow lens into their lives, not the whole article, and that’s what is often dismissed. These platforms pressure people to only show the good that’s happening to them, and it makes sense; someone who posts appealing, polished content is going to gain more likes and followers than someone who does not.

I often have to remind myself this as I sometimes get caught up in pie-in-the-sky dreams; things I don’t even particularly want to do but that may be viewed as successful by other people owing to the massive amounts of work required to do them.

Modern society, by way of placing productivity atop its hierarchy, has romanticized wage slavery and burnout. These things are to be expected and even embraced, removing the human story behind each face you pass on the street.

I’m not advocating for lethargy by any means; getting things done feels good, and It’s necessary to maintain a level of productivity to sustain yourself, but I think we are doing ourselves a grave disservice by elevating productivity to the top of our priority list.

This trend is particularly apparent among people my age with the idea of ‘locking in’, a phrase which describes a hyper-productive, regimented lifestyle. Whether it’s early gym workouts, strict diets, or financial achievement via the stock market, everything is about optimizing one’s life.

What does this optimization yield though?

As someone who’s been down the path espoused by so many modern influencers, it’s a hollow existence. Once again, productivity itself is not an inherent negative. My issue is with this ruthless optimization and how it gamifies life and treats success as a finite objective, as something you can almost hold in your hand.

Optimization is the killer of creative pursuits.

In almost every profession, optimization involves cutting corners, and completing as many tasks as possible. How would this fare in writing, or music for that matter? What does an optimized book look like, or an optimized song? My guess is pretty fucking terrible.

Go for that promotion. Take those cold showers. Just try to remember who you are and what you really care about while you’re at it. It’s easy to get caught up in the tornado that is the modern media apparatus, as well as to conform to its many standards. Some of them are good; an equal amount are bad. Pave your own path. Fuck whatever notion of ‘productivity’ or ‘success’ is deemed desirable right now.

You have an obligation to do things your own way, even if it goes against the grain.

Uncertainty and uniqueness are gifts disguised as undesirable traits; don’t treat them as the latter.

For the longest time, I swore I’d never drink. Ever since I was 10 or so, I made that commitment. Why? I’m not really sure. I think I wanted to be different. Don’t we all?

Fast forward to my senior year of college and I have not kept my word. I don’t drink much, but it’s nice from time to time. The consequences of this broken promise have been negligible, but I can’t say the same for another vice.

Gambling has never had much appeal for me. It was the kind of thing that wasn’t even on my radar. That changed this summer.

The World Cup, the biggest sporting event on the planet, was fast approaching. Given my regular viewership of international soccer and years of experience playing “FIFA”, I liked my odds calling the winners and losers.

It was a perfect storm of catalysts. This was also around the time I got into stocks, and money for that matter. With the end of college approaching, I began to crave income. For me, money would be a security blanket; something I could acquire to ease my stress. In many ways I still believe this to be the case, but I don’t believe in attempting to earn it via betting.

Robinhood was my chosen stock app; it was minimalist, yet flashy, and I instantly became hooked on checking my daily profit and loss stats. This was fun for a few weeks, but all shiny toys lose their appeal eventually.

As I was scrolling the app one day, I stumbled upon the “prediction markets” tab. I was familiar with these platforms, but I always steered clear of them. One day though, I hovered on that tab a bit longer than I had before, and placed my first bet.

It was just too tempting. By betting on one game, the result of which I’d know within the next hour or two, I could make more money than I had made with stocks the whole week. I lost my first bet, in fact, I lost my first two or three. I wasn’t stirred though; I’d taken the bait, and I was determined to chase my losses.

For a bit, this worked. I began depositing more and more of my hard-earned money into my account, betting on everything from soccer games to bitcoin prices. I remember one night in particular when I wagered $300 on what the price of bitcoin would be in 15 minutes. I was right.

Ecstasy doesn’t begin to describe the feeling of doubling a triple digit wager. At that moment, it was as if Robinhood had reached into my head and snipped some wires in my brain. For the next hour, I was a creature acting solely on impulse, alternating huge wins with even larger losses.

When I went to bed that night, I’d lost around $100 overall, but I refused to lay my eyes on the red number in my account. Late into the night and early morning, I bet. I bet again and again and again until that deficit was gone, putting in more and more of my money just to have enough to wager.

When the sun rose I was $100 in the green, but you wouldn’t have known it by looking at me. I told my parents I’d learned my lesson, that I was done, but I didn’t really believe myself when I said it. That same day, while getting coffee with a friend, I did it again.

I was showing him how the whole thing went when I placed a $600 wager — almost all the money in my account, on a bitcoin price prediction. The odds were 90%, and in my mind I’d made a free $100. Then they began to shift. Within about 20 seconds, I’d lost a week’s paycheck.

I wish I could say it stopped there, but I’d be lying. For the next two weeks, I deleted and redownloaded Robinhood dozens of times, my mind locked in a dopamine tug-of-war. I knew it was wrong, but I also thought I couldn’t live with losing that much money.

Eventually, thanks to the wonderful support system I have around me, I was able to kick the highs and lows of gambling, but it still tempts me now and then. The idea of being able to win money that quickly will never fade from my mind, but I know now that that’s exactly how Robinhood executives want me to feel.

Through steady, pervasive advertisements in all corners of media, these companies are slowly herding a growing contingent of the American public into their trap. As a survivor of their manipulative ways, I implore my reader to put their money into an index fund. If they don’t want to do that, they should give it to someone they trust for safekeeping. It always starts as a fun hobby, but it never ends well. Steer clear of these corporations, they don’t care about you, only their bottom line.

A blue breeze blows
The trees are exposed
Their skeletons glow
In the amber autumn air

People chatter
Amongst the clutter
The world spins
Turning on a whim

The sun is still here
It’s warmth hasn’t left us yet
November begins
Without missing a step

Thanksgiving comes soon
And Christmas too
Our families congrue
To appreciate it all

Yes, some are not with us
Their memories we cherish
Of all walks of life
We are people nevertheless

Winter has begun to rear its head
It’s still shy though
It stalks the sun
Biding its time

The leaves are brown
And purple too
They will leave us soon
But not forever

The sun will rise for us again
For we are better together

Fall, changes and all
You are truly divine