Collage: Daze [hot]

We usually think of a collage as an art project: a mosaic of magazine clippings, ticket stubs, and textured paper. But look closer at your reflection in the library window. You are the collage.

There is a specific, sticky kind of twilight that exists only in the first month of the academic year. It is not quite morning and not quite night. It is the hour of the "collage daze"—that liminal season of your life where everything is cut out, rearranged, glued down slightly askew, and left to dry. collage daze

In this state, you are a scrapbooker who has lost the scissors. You are trying to fit a syllabus, a social life, a workout routine, and eight hours of sleep onto a single page. Something is going to hang over the edge. The secret that upperclassmen forget to tell you is that a collage is not supposed to be seamless. The magic is in the rough edges. It is in the tear, not the perfect scissor cut. We usually think of a collage as an

Your "collage daze" is the process of layering. You try on the debate club. You tape down a philosophy elective. You rip away a toxic friendship that doesn't fit the composition. You overlap a study group with a sudden, unexpected love for ceramics. There is a specific, sticky kind of twilight