Weve been there, too.

We’ve been there, too. Now playing: Video Killed the Radio Star by The Buggles It was a Thursday afternoon in New York City. It was also mid-December, so afternoon was code for depressingly early sunset. After a lot of writing and rewriting and fretting around my application to MIT, I managed to have it submitted in time for the EA deadline. Somehow, I managed to distract myself for the agonizing six weeks following October 31. And then, I got this email: Now playing: O Valencia! by The Decemberists I havent really talked about this yet in my blog posts, but I have had a longish relationship with stress. When I was younger, I had what could be described as hypnophobiaâ€"fear of sleep. In particularly bad bouts, Id freak myself out about something, then try to force myself not to think about it, then fail, then freak out more, and rinse/repeat  ad nauseam. The symptoms still feel exceedingly real to me, despite the fact that I havent had a panic attack on that scale in years: the bottom of my gut would drop out, Id hallow out, my teeth would chatter, and this dread of just wanting the panic to end would sink in and make my skin crawl. I had had enough panic attacks by the time senior year of high school rolled around that I wasnt looking forward to college decisions season. To my surprise, touring the assorted campuses turned out better than expected: I was a bit fixated on MIT by this point, andâ€" No, hold up. Thats a lie. I was kind of a lot fixated. And I was able to keep it under the surface, until I got that email the week before decisions. I remember my stomach threatening to drop characteristically as I read it. And oddly, I dont really remember much else of that week, other than a general sense of terror-excitement. Now playing: The Troubadour by Tom Chapin   Which brings me back to that Thursday afternoon. The day had been fairly normal so far, if unfocused: my Google Calendar tells me that I had double English in the morning, so we were probably discussing Ron Padgetts poetry in Mr. Zavatskys class. My brain was a little more focused on the countdown to 9PM. As the day ended, I called home, and my mom reminded me that I had an appointment downtownI was supposed to have an Educational Counselor interview for another college. I feel kind of bad now, thinking back: I was in the completely wrong frame of mind to talk about why I was interested in Foobar University. Oh well. By the time I got out of the interview, it was about 6:00. I was in Midtown, meaning that I was surrounded by holiday lights and displays everywhere I looked. As a New Yorker, I have some desire to avoid tourist traps through the boroughs, but for some reason this was the night on which I would allow myself to be captivated by the skyscrapers I took for granted any other time. I took a breath. The air was crisp, and as I inhaled I felt a strand of my anxiety slip away. For a second, my gut wasnt churning with worry-anticipation. And so I decided to get a bit more of this fresh air, and called my parents to say Id be walking home. I then shut off my phone, and was alone in the city. Now playing: Village Green Preservation Society by Kate Rusby Manhattans famous rectilnear grid is thanks to the Commissioners Plan of 1811. One quirk of the layout is that the streets are 60ft wide (about a dozen running crosstown are 100ft wide), and the blocks (running uptown-downtown) are about 200ft. Thus, walking twenty blocks means covering almost precisely a mile; furthermore, people walk at close to three miles per hour, or sixty blocks per hour, or (more usefully) a block per minute. From this, you can quickly work out walking times to most places in NYC. I did this mental math and worked out that Id get home with plenty of time to spare. As I started walking, I realized that I was wishing for a soundtrack of some sort. Thats when I remembered one of the 50 Things: 3. In college more than ever before, songs will attach themselves to memories. Every month or two, make a mix cd, mp3 folder, whatever just make sure you keep copies of these songs. Ten years out, theyll be as effective as a journal in taking you back to your favorite moments. I gave it a shot, standing on a streetcorner, adding a bunch of songs to an iPod playlist called On the Go 5â€"which I later renamed to 2010-12-16. Hitting shuffle completed my isolation, and I then resumed my walk home among the throngs of window-shoppers. Now playing: Dont Download This Song by Weird Al It was dark and cold, but my head was clear. I remember talking over scenarios with myself, and what each meant for me. And by the time I reached my front door, I had come to peace with the decision process. The decisions had already been made, and my being anxious about them wasnt going to change that. For the first time in a while, I was facing a stressful situation without the company of a knotted stomach and chattering teeth. If youre sitting there, reading this with something between butterflies and hornets, I encourage you to stand up, shut off your communication devices, make a playlist, and go out for a long walk. Your air may not be as crisp, and your decisions are released earlier than ours were, but Im willing to bet that some fresh air and a fresh perspective would do you some good. And if you feel up to it, I hope you try making a 2014-12-13 playlist. Youll want to reflect on the application process in the future. And breathe. Slow inhale on a count of four, hold for a count of four, exhale on a count of four. Repeat twice more. Youre gonna be okay. -Danny, while listening to his 2010-12-16 playlist