“I never get sick”
– Me, around 7 times last week
A few weeks ago as the hallway population thinned and substitute teachers trickled in, I sat on my high horse, oozing with pride over my seemingly superior immune system. Needless to say, I didn’t knock on enough wood. Now, days later, I slip into sickness. My head feels fuzzy, and I’ve become increasingly aware of the lack of space between my brain and skull. I preface with this because I’m having a hard time forming complete thoughts. Every idea feels yanked out of the mush collecting in the back of my head- sticky, like it needs to be hosed down. The liquid in my head has been replaced with chocolate syrup. I’m not sure when my mind will be clear enough to polish one of these ideas, so instead, I’m going to share the things I can say with confidence I’ve learned or noticed in the last few weeks- little hosing needed.
What I learned from the TikTok ban:
While brief, the TikTok ban was significant. As the app teetered on the edge of extinction, my entire “For You” page was flooded with a sense of reflection. People shared stories about what they found on the app—hope, joy, and most importantly, each other. The sorority house chef, the girl with the discontinued Tom Ford eyeshadow, and thousands of other niche B-tier TikTokers marched toward lives of anonymity, and I began to realize two things: TikTok was really weird, and we were losing something really special.
TikTok feels like a part of modern history, perhaps the purest and most authentic form of self-expression to date. It struck social change and acceptance, along with unity and accountability. Anyone could be heard on TikTok; anyone could have a platform. And for the most part, we gave these platforms to good people with good hearts.
What I found most notable, however, was how Gen Z clung to each other in the wake of the announced ban. A common phrase on the app and in comment sections in those last few days was “Gen Z will find each other again.” A worldwide network of people understood that when the app crashed, so would the bizarre communities formed in every comment section, meme, and interaction. TikTok, somehow, created a universal language—a kind of “brain rot.” It lifted thousands of people and small businesses alike off the ground. Sure, it was mainly a waste of time, but the cultural impact was undeniable. And at the heart of it all was a generation trying to find each other.
As one of the users who deleted the app (meaning I am unable to redownload it), I’ve decided my time on TikTok is over. Even so, I look forward to the next place Gen Z will find each other. I hope to discover these quirky communities, uplifting interactions, and the spirit of TikTok in the real world—in grocery stores, at stoplights, in hallways, and around lunch tables.
And all that jazz:
My friend’s New Year’s resolution was to “consume more art.” In simple terms, consuming art means paying more attention. To seek art is to search for others’ wisdom and passion. When we engage with music, literature, and art more intentionally, we begin to find the joys of others. I liked my friend’s resolution so much that I stole it. Now, I love jazz.
I’m falling in love with the way jazz speaks to me. It whispers truth through the cold of winter, cutting through the numbness of January more effectively than my car’s heating. Jazz warms my soul. I owe my newfound love to my stolen resolution. I really consume music. I sip on the saxophone and immerse myself in the voices of Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday.
Listening to jazz marks the first time I’ve paid attention to the individual aspects of a song. The diversity of every note is wired straight to the depths of the human experience, with each instrument saying more than words ever could. Each soulful escapade propels you to feel. As if melting away the space between my skin and the air in my car, the fluidity of sound leaves oneself dripping with a sense of raw and honest being. It isn’t just music; it’s a conversation that transcends time, speaking to parts of me I didn’t know needed to be heard. All you have to do is listen.
What defines us:
The juniors have been tasked with a form that is supposed to help our college counselors answer the question: Who are you? It’s an important question, but also impossible to answer. As I struggle with my response, I ask myself: What defines us? Are we the sum of our greatest accomplishments and hardest days? Or is it what we take from those experiences? As a teenage girl, you are what you eat—or what you don’t. You are the effect you have on others, the goodness you bring to those around you. You are your reputation.
Lately, my favorite definition of self has been this: You are the people you surround yourself with. If, like me, you choose to live by this, I’ll carry my friend’s infectious joy, my grandfather’s wisdom, my mom’s strength, my teacher’s passion, and my dad’s gentle heart. The list goes on. I guess what I’m saying is that, while I repeatedly ask myself who I am leading up to the college admissions process, I’ve found a strange pocket of gratitude. The parts of myself that reflect those I love—it’s a really beautiful way to see yourself.
Additionally:
I’ve learned I’ll always love Taylor Swift and that the neti pot is not the cure for congestion. Brushing your teeth with your left hand is a poor attempt at becoming ambidextrous. I’ve learned there’s little a warm week in the dead of winter can’t fix. Now, build communities like a TikTok comment section, search for art, and find gratitude in the best parts of yourself.
Edited by Lilya Elchahal
