In preparing for my politics class I am revisited by ideals of old. I am re-learning concepts I have long ago thought I’d understood and am now considering with fresh eyes. These ideas are old friends I met in the past when my mind was a blank slate eager to wear tattoos of the new and exciting. You see, old friends are a source of comfort and assurance that all will be as it should be. Once again, I am eager. Once again, I am home.
I am reminded of the resistance I once put up, upon meeting these ideas. I resisted mightily, content to view the world through the safety of my rose-colored, bourgeois lenses. It is normal to fear the unknown. Resistance, however, was futile. There was juvenile attraction in “deviance,” in what was not the norm. Perhaps this laid claim to the first blush of attraction. Now, more seasoned, not quite as impressionable as before, I am even more convinced.