I recently closed a significant chapter in my life, and with that ending came the quiet threat of the “sophomore slump” people always warn you about. It was a familiar feeling since I had fallen into it in high school, but this time, I handled it differently.
Instead of retreating, I leaned into what keeps me grounded: music, small routines and things that remind me of who I am. What could’ve been a time marked by loss turned into something more reflective – a season of quiet, deliberate growth. These are the media and moments that kept the slump away.
MUSIC
Hayley Williams’ third solo album, “Ego Death At A Bachelorette Party,” opened me up in stages. The album is messy, specific and human. One of the songs that stood out to me the most was “Love Me Different.” A track not about heartbreak, but reclaiming yourself.
Williams sings, “I know that you’re probably telling yourself that no one’s gonna love me like you did / And I know that you’re probably right about that, but someone’s gonna love me different.”
What I love most about that line is that the “different” is not just another person, it’s her. For once, she is putting herself first. Listening, I realized I needed to do the same.
The back half of the album features the track “Hard,” which reflected exactly where I was: closed off, guarded and pretending that was my strength. Hearing someone else name it so clearly made it easier to finally begin to let go.
Music has always been the clearest lens people have used to see me. In high school, one of my teachers recognized how closed off I was and suggested I start listening to happier songs. At the time, I brushed it off, but this summer, his words came back to me.
I started forcing myself to play New Radicals’ “You Get What You Give” once a day. At first, it felt performative: me, jumping around my room, trying to convince myself I was okay. But slowly, it became a habit, and then it became real.
There is something about the song’s shameless optimism, its insistence that joy can be loud and unpolished, that loosened my grip on negativity. Sometimes, healing looks like dancing badly until you actually believe in what you’re dancing to.
FILM & TV
Not every summer ritual needs to be monumental. Some are quiet moments tucked between the chaos. For me, that was the TV show, “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.” I have been watching one episode a day for years, almost without thinking. While everything in college – friendships, classes and whatever version of myself I was trying to be – shifted, this one thing did not change.
With the premiere of Season 17, the show had lost none of its edge. It was still sharp, bizarre and willing to go too far in the best way. There was even a perfectly unhinged jab at Fall Out Boy, my favorite band, which somehow made the whole scene personal. Like the writers were in on the joke with me.
Another thing I reintroduced into my life was the simple joy of going to the movie theatre, which for years I had avoided. I had almost convinced myself that the magic was gone when I saw a flyer for the 50th anniversary screening of “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest,” my favorite film of all time. I figured if anything could pull me back to the theatre, it was that. So I went, and surprisingly, I did not feel out of place.
The room was filled with mostly older people, maybe reliving a piece of their youth or just looking for something familiar. Sitting in the theatre with them and watching Jack Nicholson give one of the most raw, chaotic and human performances ever captured on film made something shift in me. Not dramatically, but gently, like my mind finally exhaled.
That night was a reset. That is the part nobody really talks about when it comes to avoiding the slump: it is not about the big changes. Sometimes, it is the small, consistent things that remind you who you are.
For me, that ended up being five wildly dysfunctional people running a bar in Philadelphia and one unhinged man tearing apart a psychiatric ward in the ‘70s. Somehow, that was enough.
LOCAL SHOWS
The final piece of my anti-slump puzzle came when I reconnected with something that had once been a huge part of my identity: the local music scene. I grew up immersed in punk culture, late nights at sketchy venues, cheap shows in someone’s basement and music that was more heart than polish. But over the past years, I had slowly drifted away from it. Before I realized it, that part of me had gone quiet. I made a conscious choice to step back into the noise.
I finally got a chance to see Hang Your Hate at an intense and intimate show at The Blue Note. The band’s live shows are known for being loud and cathartic in the way only live music can be. The crowd, a mix of loyal fans and curious newcomers, did not take long to feed off the band’s energy, with mosh pits forming and vocals shouted back toward the stage.
The scene in Columbia still has that raw, scrappy energy. It is imperfect in the best way. Shows are not about flawless performances or pristine quality; they are about release. Seeing kids throw themselves headfirst into the music like it is the only thing keeping them grounded reminded me of why I fell in love with it all those years ago.
In those moments, I was not replaying old mistakes in my head or stressing over what comes next. I was not trying to solve anything. Surrounded by sound and shared experiences, I found a sense of belonging and aliveness, something I did not even know I was missing. For the first time in a long time, I felt like myself.
Ending a chapter in your life doesn’t have to lead straight into a slump. Sometimes, it’s the beginning of new rituals, chasing unfamiliar sounds and creating space for joy, even if it feels unnatural at first.
Edited by Sabrina Pan | [email protected]
Copy edited by Drew Johnson and Emma Harper | [email protected]
Edited by Chase Pray | [email protected]
