//features//
Fall 2020
Fall 2020
Man Plans, and God Laughs
Meredith Harris
“What do you want to do in the next five years?” is probably one of the worst questions one can ask. Yet thinking about the future is not only practical, but necessary. Some turn to astrology. English teachers raise the question of fate versus free will. My mom, a former English teacher and current astrologer, will bring up both. Others robotically schedule their entire lives on their Google Calendar. We need to make plans, but can we expect them to come to fruition? At a time where it feels like nothing can be planned, is the practice of planning, or even considering the future, still relevant?
I was a serial planner. I immersed myself in my urban planning major. My Google Calendar was quite literally stacked at all times, and I obsessed over my future, often to the extent that it overshadowed what I was doing that day. I felt present in the moment, yet constantly cognizant of what was coming next. But I was happy! I was living in New York City soaking up all that it had to offer. I couldn’t wait for my next plan.
And then, you guessed it, COVID-19. On March 15th, 2020, I got fired from my awesome job in the restaurant industry along with the majority of my co-workers. I moved out of my Barnard dorm and back home to New Jersey until further notice. Gone was my trip to Paris, scheduled for March 21st. Gone were all future flights and reservations. The week that followed was difficult in many ways, but the most pressing sensation was my urge for certainty. I serial-applied to 35 jobs on LinkedIn. I needed security; I felt like it had been ripped away from me like a parent detaching a child from her blanket. I repeated to myself throughout the week: onward.
The months that followed were overall positive. Living at home has had more benefits than downsides. I recognize that this is because I am almost fully being taken care of by my parents again. At times I missed my unimpeded independence, but mostly, I felt—and still feel—incredibly fortunate. Safe at home, I was able to stay focused on and grateful for what was good, despite the horrors of the world. I tried my hardest to remain a positive light for my friends and family (without being annoying about it). Most notably, a fundamental shift in my mentality occurred: I stopped trying to plan everything. Largely because I physically could not. For the first time in my life, I began to take things day by day. Thoughts lingered overhead—I’m not a robot—but my fixation over my future eased and gave way. There was no point to it anymore.
Still, I enjoyed thinking about planning as a discipline. Over the summer, I served as a Research Assistant for Barnard’s Department of Environmental Science, studying how adaptive planning from COVID-19 could be used as anticipatory planning for future climate emergencies. I loved it. The work gave me hope and made me think about specific, measurable strategies that could be implemented to turn this dreadful reality into a dream board for the future.
My environmental science research became the basis for my urban studies thesis, an outcome I did not expect at the start of the summer. My research evolved into questioning how we can prepare vulnerable NYC neighborhoods for future climate emergencies. Despite the constant volatility of 2020, thinking about planning in the midst of the COVID-19 crisis hasn’t been entirely impossible. In fact, it’s what made me refocus on the populations I wanted to plan for: the most vulnerable. We’re all going through this together, but recognizing the inequities in the pandemic’s societal impact has made me think a lot about the kind of work I want to pursue for my thesis and beyond.
Once I turned my research into my urban studies senior thesis topic, I began to feel like a walking contradiction. Here I was, telling myself that it’s impossible to plan while envisioning the future of cities. The disconnect between my dreams and disposition was OK, but I definitely thought about the paradox of my academic interests and life choices. I thought about it particularly in terms of my professional life, as many of my genius, unstoppably-hard-working friends were receiving job offers upon the conclusion of their successful summer internships and throughout the fall semester. I was genuinely happy for them and proud of their accomplishments; they earned them. But their successes undoubtedly made me question if I was living my own life wrong.
Here was a good realization: I’m not. I’m going to be more than OK. Accepting the uncertainty of my future career liberated me, and it allowed me to become incredibly open-minded. I genuinely care about many different disciplines, and nothing that I do needs to be permanent. I am ready to take on real life and am incredibly privileged for the preparation I have received for it. I won’t go as far as “limitless,” but I’m feeling pretty powerful right now. Go ahead, cue up “Defying Gravity.”
Life (at least mine) is not going to be a straight path in any which way. I’m excited to embrace the uncertainty, knowing that I am strong enough to handle it. I’m ready for the weird liminal phases. The failures—bring ‘em on. People like to look at historically horrible situations and say, “Well, we needed that bad thing to happen in order for this good thing to result!” No—the bad things can suck, in a vacuum, and that’s fine (pun fully intended). But we do need to look at situations in our own lives and reevaluate how we reacted to them. That way, when the next bad thing happens, we will be better prepared for it.
I joke around that I have simultaneously grown and regressed more in this period of time than ever before in my life—the growth from this change in mindset, the regression from living as a child at home with my parents. Mega paradoxical. And that’s alright. Rather than looking at circumstances harshly, it’s important to consider their benefits. Maybe don’t plan (omg!), but be prepared. Recognize your growth, but also be accepting of degeneration. Express all of your feelings of dread, and then think about what’s good. We need these contradictions in life. They are, if anything, what keep us in balance.
//MEREDITH HARRIS is a senior in Barnard College and the Jewish Theological Seminary. She is a Senior Editor at The Current. She can be reached at mnh2122@barnard.edu.
Photo from theme song of Disney Channel's Phineas and Ferb
I was a serial planner. I immersed myself in my urban planning major. My Google Calendar was quite literally stacked at all times, and I obsessed over my future, often to the extent that it overshadowed what I was doing that day. I felt present in the moment, yet constantly cognizant of what was coming next. But I was happy! I was living in New York City soaking up all that it had to offer. I couldn’t wait for my next plan.
And then, you guessed it, COVID-19. On March 15th, 2020, I got fired from my awesome job in the restaurant industry along with the majority of my co-workers. I moved out of my Barnard dorm and back home to New Jersey until further notice. Gone was my trip to Paris, scheduled for March 21st. Gone were all future flights and reservations. The week that followed was difficult in many ways, but the most pressing sensation was my urge for certainty. I serial-applied to 35 jobs on LinkedIn. I needed security; I felt like it had been ripped away from me like a parent detaching a child from her blanket. I repeated to myself throughout the week: onward.
The months that followed were overall positive. Living at home has had more benefits than downsides. I recognize that this is because I am almost fully being taken care of by my parents again. At times I missed my unimpeded independence, but mostly, I felt—and still feel—incredibly fortunate. Safe at home, I was able to stay focused on and grateful for what was good, despite the horrors of the world. I tried my hardest to remain a positive light for my friends and family (without being annoying about it). Most notably, a fundamental shift in my mentality occurred: I stopped trying to plan everything. Largely because I physically could not. For the first time in my life, I began to take things day by day. Thoughts lingered overhead—I’m not a robot—but my fixation over my future eased and gave way. There was no point to it anymore.
Still, I enjoyed thinking about planning as a discipline. Over the summer, I served as a Research Assistant for Barnard’s Department of Environmental Science, studying how adaptive planning from COVID-19 could be used as anticipatory planning for future climate emergencies. I loved it. The work gave me hope and made me think about specific, measurable strategies that could be implemented to turn this dreadful reality into a dream board for the future.
My environmental science research became the basis for my urban studies thesis, an outcome I did not expect at the start of the summer. My research evolved into questioning how we can prepare vulnerable NYC neighborhoods for future climate emergencies. Despite the constant volatility of 2020, thinking about planning in the midst of the COVID-19 crisis hasn’t been entirely impossible. In fact, it’s what made me refocus on the populations I wanted to plan for: the most vulnerable. We’re all going through this together, but recognizing the inequities in the pandemic’s societal impact has made me think a lot about the kind of work I want to pursue for my thesis and beyond.
Once I turned my research into my urban studies senior thesis topic, I began to feel like a walking contradiction. Here I was, telling myself that it’s impossible to plan while envisioning the future of cities. The disconnect between my dreams and disposition was OK, but I definitely thought about the paradox of my academic interests and life choices. I thought about it particularly in terms of my professional life, as many of my genius, unstoppably-hard-working friends were receiving job offers upon the conclusion of their successful summer internships and throughout the fall semester. I was genuinely happy for them and proud of their accomplishments; they earned them. But their successes undoubtedly made me question if I was living my own life wrong.
Here was a good realization: I’m not. I’m going to be more than OK. Accepting the uncertainty of my future career liberated me, and it allowed me to become incredibly open-minded. I genuinely care about many different disciplines, and nothing that I do needs to be permanent. I am ready to take on real life and am incredibly privileged for the preparation I have received for it. I won’t go as far as “limitless,” but I’m feeling pretty powerful right now. Go ahead, cue up “Defying Gravity.”
Life (at least mine) is not going to be a straight path in any which way. I’m excited to embrace the uncertainty, knowing that I am strong enough to handle it. I’m ready for the weird liminal phases. The failures—bring ‘em on. People like to look at historically horrible situations and say, “Well, we needed that bad thing to happen in order for this good thing to result!” No—the bad things can suck, in a vacuum, and that’s fine (pun fully intended). But we do need to look at situations in our own lives and reevaluate how we reacted to them. That way, when the next bad thing happens, we will be better prepared for it.
I joke around that I have simultaneously grown and regressed more in this period of time than ever before in my life—the growth from this change in mindset, the regression from living as a child at home with my parents. Mega paradoxical. And that’s alright. Rather than looking at circumstances harshly, it’s important to consider their benefits. Maybe don’t plan (omg!), but be prepared. Recognize your growth, but also be accepting of degeneration. Express all of your feelings of dread, and then think about what’s good. We need these contradictions in life. They are, if anything, what keep us in balance.
//MEREDITH HARRIS is a senior in Barnard College and the Jewish Theological Seminary. She is a Senior Editor at The Current. She can be reached at mnh2122@barnard.edu.
Photo from theme song of Disney Channel's Phineas and Ferb