Comfort zones

I spent most of my final week of undergraduate classes rewatching the entirety of NBC’s “Parks and Recreation” — which I unequivocally consider my favorite show — before it aired its reunion special in support of a COVID-19 response fund. Of course, despite a quickly approaching thesis deadline and impending final exams, I didn’t view this umpteenth rewatch as a distraction or even as a form of procrastination; at this point, watching “Parks and Rec” might as well be written in my planner as a routine habit.

Unsurprisingly, it’s the show that I’ve found myself revisiting most frequently throughout college. Don’t get me wrong — I liked “Parks and Rec” in high school, but it took on a new meaning for me after I came to UC Berkeley. Like a warm fleece blanket or a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Half Baked ice cream, the show was a form of comfort that I gravitated to time and time again.

I watched a season and a half of “Parks and Rec” as I stayed up to pack up my freshman dorm room the night after my Friday 7-10 p.m. final. It was on as background noise many nights when I was up late doing homework and during some of my final meals with friends before the pandemic caused us to disperse. A poster of Ron Swanson’s Pyramid of Greatness hangs in my apartment kitchen in Berkeley at this moment.

While a desire to go out of my comfort zone was what initially brought me to Berkeley — and trust me, I’ve done plenty of that — I’ve grown the most in the last four years by finding new sources of comfort: things that I could fall back on and make me happy. I spent most of my teenage years waiting to leave my small, rural town of Fairmont, Minnesota to chase bigger dreams at a bigger school in a bigger city. But when I first got to Berkeley, comfort took on a new meaning: things that felt like home.

Fairmont isn’t exactly like the fictional Pawnee, Indiana of “Parks and Rec,” but in addition to the signature small-town quirks, both share one key characteristic: Everybody knows everybody. Although I thought I’d be excited by the fresh start promised by college, the anonymity of being at a large public university in an unfamiliar part of the country was an isolating and overwhelming thing to experience.

I initially hoped that these four years at UC Berkeley would be defined by leaving my comfort zone, pushing myself to become a smarter, braver, “better” person.

During my time at UC Berkeley, I changed my major to one that I’ve loved, pursued projects and internships that sparked the beginnings of a career path I’m passionate about and led committees, clubs and departments that I’m incredibly proud of. I joined The Daily Californian to write for the arts and entertainment section, despite having no prior journalism experience. I traveled to San Francisco for weeknight movie screenings to review, even though I’d never used public transportation before coming to college, save for one or two times during trips with family.

Leaving my comfort zone has taught me to be curious, patient and self-sufficient and to embrace all the lessons that new experiences — and mistakes — can bring.

But it has also taught me to redefine my sources of comfort. I’ve found comfort studying with friends in the Moffitt and Kresge libraries late at night, grabbing a chai from Babette Cafe after classes end and sitting on the steps across from the Berkeley Art Museum and Pacific Film Archive just before the sun starts to set.

Above all else, I’ve found comfort through my friendships. Like most people graduating in the midst of this pandemic, I wasn’t expecting a lack of closure with the places and people that have shaped me over the last four years. Much like the “Parks and Rec” special, most of my communication with folks are now well-intentioned but awkward interactions over video conference calls that can’t replicate the feeling of physically being in the same room as one another. Nonetheless, I’m grateful to every person that made Berkeley feel a little less like “the polar opposite of Fairmont” — as I sarcastically but fondly used to call it — and a little more like home itself.

To my Clark Kerr suite 306 squad — thank you for being my first family at Cal. To my speech team friends — thank you for showing me the ropes when it came to navigating Berkeley and life. To all the friends with whom I spent long days and late nights studying for economics and history and Hindi, thanks for being by my side through it all.

To the friends I met through the Indian Students Association — I owe you the world. I’ll miss our meetings, makeshift meals, trivia and game nights, attempted movie marathons, discussions, rants and laughs more than I could ever express.

And to everyone at the Daily Cal — where do I begin? Thank you for teaching me and trusting me to be a writer and an editor and for somehow letting me get away with multiple podcasts about “The Bachelor.” To the lifelong friends I’ve met through this paper, I’m grateful for the memories we’ve made and have yet to make.

Graduating from UC Berkeley while working from my childhood home in the midst of a global crisis is, to say the least, not how I envisioned this journey to end. But reflecting on my college experience has taught me to value the comfort found in even the smallest, most seemingly mundane moments. Sources of comfort helped me find a home in Berkeley. They’re also what makes Berkeley so hard to say goodbye to.