When new acquaintances ask the inevitable question of where I’m from, there’s that momentary struggle to convey my background adequately. I was born on the East Coast, spent my formative years in California, went to college in Chicago, and now live in Seattle, for the time being. Sure, it’s not to say that I’ve been entirely itinerant in my location in the near past, and my location schizophrenia certainly applies to a great proportion of recent college graduates I know. But I suppose it’s a combination of the locational disconnect from the communities I used to be a part of and still being in that transient stage of young adulthood which make me a little jarred from living here, there, everywhere.
Alors, bref. Suffice it to say, despite my great liking for travelling and living in different places, my inner self is still a bit disoriented from my nomadic ways.
Football is something I’d never thought I’d enjoy in a million years. From playing volleyball in middle school and being on the sidelines of football games in high school as part of the pep band, I certainly understand the draw of the competitive spirit, rooting for your team. I appreciate how important it is to society; there is arguably no other cultural force that unites quite as rapidly, quite as strongly. There is pretty much no other establishment, so ubiquitous, that acts out fake war to dissipate aggression in a harmless manner. But from a confluence of factors–as an Asian-American girl who went to the University of Chicago, whose football field and team were buried, quite literally, under the present behemoth of a library–I was predisposed not to like football too much.