Restless

I have a class titled "Literary Nonfiction." We basically discuss New Journalism and all that comes with it. It's the class that made me read more Didion, more DFW and many more writers whom I would have never read otherwise.

Molly Young, being awesome and stylish

One of these bright authors is Molly Young. She wrote a review of Adderall in n+1 titled "Kickstart My Heart." The professor assigned it as the last reading of the syllabus. My hypothesis? He was giving a giant wink to the class: don't take Adderall, kids. It'll ruin ya.

She makes it sound so terribly appealing though. Reading through weeks worth of textbook in just under 72 hours? Absorbing information like a zealous sponge? Not getting distracted by Internet demons like Facebook, Reddit or 4chan? Yes, yes and YES.

At the end of the essay, Young breaches upon an epiphany: she never really learned anything. She didn't know what she hated at the end of her post-secondary career; she never discovered what she was good at. Perhaps this seemingly-pointless trudging through schoolwork does serve an ultimate purpose. Are we supposed to reach the light at the end of the tunnel? Is that light just supposed to blind us, making us declare, "Oh right, I haaate that"? Well, of course. We all hate lights in our eyes. Ask anyone pulled over by the cops late one Saturday night.

Despite whatever foray into Adderall or similar drugs you might encounter (Prozac, Ritalin, etc.), take a look at Molly Young's Tumblr here. She's not much older than me and I already feel like she's light-years ahead.

Then again, we can't all contribute to GQ or star in a Sleigh Bells video.