*going out in & of Chapel Hill* I spent "fall break"[^1] with Lawrence and Dua — two recurring characters — outside of Chapel Hill. My dorm became the occasional pit stop rather than a place to sleep; one advisor's home & one friend's home hosted evening festivities; our adventures spanned Durham, Charlottesville, and Minecraft seed 8584926385964346659.[^3] Over the afternoon coffees that seem to conclude every friend group meetup — putting a bow on four Cookout runs, two draft Instagram posts, and a round of TopGolf — we discussed our next destinations: considering Abu Dhabi, Taiwan, Japan, finalising with the painful realisation I was no longer nomadic, and that such travel is now both irresponsible and inconvenient.[^2] So far, on the weekends, I've left Chapel Hill more than I've stayed. I went to the beach, Atlanta, a lake house, the wilderness, D.C, and Charlottesville. I don't have any contrived reflections on this fact: I like new places, my friends are spontaneous, taking six different trips is better than six weekends of the same thing. And today, over afternoon coffee, I read a fantastic descriptor of what this "same thing" is. [^4] After all, the counterfactual to going out of Orange County is going out within Orange County, a cultural ritual that is deeply glorified, often overrated, extremely enjoyable. I'll leave the societal analysis of this to those better at it.[^5] ~ Last week, I wrote a long, somewhat angsty[^6] piece reflecting on college so far.[^7]I certainly stand by it, but I decided against publishing it. The summary is that there is a lot of routine, similar to life, dissimilar to vagabondery. On vagabondery: I left my passport in a girl's car's glove box & her parents saw that since the 2023 issuance I had travelled to more than a dozen places & collected a few dozen stamps & they saw my Chinese visa & they told her & then she told our mutual friend & then he told me about how he would give me my passport back & I was reminded of how the itinerant wandering differed from my life now. After Dua & Lawrence came & I was torn away from this routine I realised that I loved the simplicity & the comfortable healthiness & having more than three sets of clothing. & I realised I did like being on the road (to Virginia & back in a day) & the happy middle is not a thing; that these two extremes require their own time & cannot be experienced, really, simultaneously, at least in the true form. ~ Trips take, at a minimum, a day; after they pass, they expand to take more time. Routines take up weeks & [[lisbon, portugal|shrink & wither afterwards in the mind]]. Something funny about going out — in both senses — is that not much seems to happen in one hour & a lot happens in the next. One sense of going out is something I will eventually grow out of, another sense is one that I suspect I will never grow out of; and both involve a group of friends that I hope never let go. Here it was. There it is. [^1]: Not technically my fall break on the academic calendar; but classes without attendance policies allow you to create your own fall breaks. [^2]: Having six months to kill allows you to stop in destinations along the way, implying the cost of the flight is lower. Excuse this mathematical fairy tale. Also, to be clear, we were considering exotic locations out of necessity (Lawrence must return home). [^3]: Horrible nether spawn, btw. [^4]: Flat white, honey rosemary, Gray Squirrel. Trust. [^5]: See blogroll section. [^6]: As usual. [^7]: If you can guess the several word title, and add a + to indicate spaces, you can guess the direct URL to read it. For instance, this article's URL is randyxchang.com/going+out+in+&+of+chapel+hill. Alternatively, just ask!