Growing up, I was always greeted by music on the speakers. Piano keys and guitar strings whispered “good morning” to me as I walked down the steps. The beautiful art of whatever album was playing would decorate the TV. The music would follow me through an orchestra of speakers as I wandered into each room. My dad conducted them with the horns of Whitney, the storytelling of the Decemberists and the guitar of Jack Johnson. 

But some mornings, it would be a different artist. The soft echoey voice would fill the speakers. A voice I could recognize but never could name. A voice so soft that my brothers always assumed he was singing Christmas music. A voice that even at that moment reminded me of home. I remember the bright colors of his album titles in bold text and the way it was prefaced by, “Sufjan Stevens invites you to …” 

Fast forward to the fall of 2021. I just transferred to Pitt. To put it nicely, I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. I was still getting acclimated to campus life and my new classes. I knew of people on campus but I tended to spend those first few weeks by myself. I would sit outside with whatever book I was reading at the time and get a coffee as my AirPods played playlist after playlist. It became a ritual, something I felt in control of.

Control was something I was desperately reaching for. At that point, my life felt like a book with the chapters out of order. Nothing was going according to the table of contents I organized for myself. As the “author” of my life, I felt like a failure for not being able to organize it the way it was intended and expected to be written. Changes were happening, nothing was going to plan and everything felt out of place. I wasn’t proud of it. 

Then, one day, I was walking around campus when a Sufjan Stevens song came on my playlist. I was once again filled with that sense of familiarity the second that I heard the horns alongside his soft voice. It eased me, reminding me of the mornings at home. I inspected my phone to look at the fun cover art I remembered him for. I recognized the gold cursive of the album title, the two-dimensional man in a cape in the forefront. But then something I had never noticed before on the bottom of the art caught my eye. White bubble letters outlined in blue read, “Shamelessly Compiled by Sufjan Stevens.”

And then it clicked. 

I realized my life is not a preconceived book that simply follows the table of contents. No, my life is a compilation — a compilation of memories, challenges, setbacks and accomplishments. For so long I felt the need to structure this compilation of things and find order for them. I was ashamed of all the things that didn’t go to plan. I wanted to leave them out of the book rather than shamelessly embrace the things that went wrong.

I am so happy I hated the first university I was at! I am so happy that I failed my first O-Chem test! I am so happy that at the first meeting I had as the president of my club only two people showed up! If those things didn’t happen, I don’t think I would be here now. Specifically here with an opportunity to write this blog. 

Speaking of this blog, you now know where its namesake comes from. I wanted to start this year and semester by making sure we were all on the same page with what it means. And to allow you to find your own meaning in it (in the least self-help book way possible). 

I remember when I was going through the process of trying to find the name for this blog. Everything just felt wrong. Every idea I would present to my friends, parents or boyfriend was met with a “meh.” Everything on Pinterest sounded cheesy or too forced. I was reaching the deadline for submitting the official name with my only choices being “Playing it Cool” or “OMW” (I wish I was lying). 

Then one day I was getting ready and I saw it. It was quite literally on me the whole time. A piece of my physical compilation that became a part of me not long after I saw those words for the first time. 

No one wants things to go wrong or be hard. But when it does, it is a part of your life — it is your compilation. And there is no shame in that. At the end of the day, we are all just compilers figuring all this stuff out. 

So, hello compilers. I cannot wait for this year with you all.