By Associate Editor Natalie Gates

It’s a pretty normal day for this point in the semester; you know the drill. I wake up determined to get EVERYTHING done, to take the day by storm—crank out my work hours, learn something in class, squeeze in some exercise, meals, and tackle those damn presentations like no one’s business. I’ll tie up those essays into tidy 3000-word packages in no time.

Of course, things don’t go as smoothly as expected and I spend most of the day slightly on edge, constantly telling myself, “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’ll get it all done, it’s fine, don’t worry, it’s just work, it’s just school…”

I decide to eventually do some yoga to loosen up. Stretch my mind, my muscles. I feel relieved, at peace momentarily.

I sit back down at my desk, and my work emails and texts continue to ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. My to-do list seems to grow immediately in front of me, stretching down the screen as if my computer has been hacked. If I get one more message…


My boyfriend sends me a friendly “hey how was your day? :)”


Cue the waterworks: rivers flowing out of my eyes, sending my mascara running like black sludge. My nose runs, my breath heaves. Am I hyperventilating? I don’t know. It’s hideous.

I want to yell at my boss to stop giving me stuff to do. I want to yell at my profs and ask them, “Why, lord, why?!” I want to just watch myself cry in the mirror and get sadder as I notice every insecurity I’ve ever had and think about every other problem currently in my life, ‘cause WHY NOT? WE’RE ALREADY SAD! Then I’m embarrassed of myself for freaking out when I think about all the people around the world suffering much worse things than I. This makes me cry more.

Can my roommates hear me bawling? PROBABLY. Do I care? KIND OF, BUT NOT REALLY.

And then, it slows down. I take some deep breaths. It’s as if I’ve returned back to that post-yoga state. I blink. My to-do list is still there, but it’s not a mile long anymore.

I look out the window; the clouds have closed in and painted the sky dark grey; suddenly, as if with a boom, they begin pouring, dumping buckets and buckets of rain to the earth with unbelievable force. It only lasts for a few seconds and then it lessens, slows down. It’s still raining, but not so hard anymore.

I take a sip of my water and get back to work, a smirk on my face, if you can believe that. Let it rain.

Now in her fourth and final year of a political studies major and journalism minor, Natalie has been on The Nav team for about two years. When she’s not brainstorming stories or studying, she’s usually on her yoga mat, going for a hike, listening to Springsteen, or fantasizing about what to cook for dinner.