Somewhere on TikTok lies a mashup of “Car Crash” and “Mr. Brightside.” Two songs that, in theory, should not share a room, spliced together so seamlessly it feels illegal that nobody did it sooner.
Under it, one comment: “I’m at the center of the venn diagram.”
I laughed before pausing, staring in sheer astonishment as I took in the meaning. Because for a second, a simple description was able to explain a feeling of mine that was so elusive.
I have never been able to answer “so, what are you into?” without an apologetic pause. I’m into investigative reporting and First Amendment law, which means I want the story yet also want to know if it’s admissible. I’m into The Strokes, The Killers and a suspicious amount of ‘80s music, but I’ll also sing every word of Olivia Rodrigo in the car with my friends, and I won’t pass up listening to Crankdat.
I thrift. I try every new fruity drink I can find, like it’s my job. I played club volleyball all of high school, and I still get dramatically invested in a game. I love film photography, and I take an unreasonable number of photos of the same thing on my iPhone or digicam, depending on how fleeting the moment is.
Photo Courtesy of Sofia Bravo
I used to think this was a problem I eventually needed to solve. Everyone else seemed to have a noun: the athlete, the artist, the one who’s “so into Letterboxd.” I figured at some point I’d have to choose one, or at least rank them, and the others would quietly fall away.
They never did, though. I’d get deep into one thing and the rest would sit there, patient, waiting for me to come back. I always did at some point.
Part of me suspects I was set up for this early. My family is Macedonian and Chilean, which means I’ve never really had one answer to “where are you from?” It’s making lepche with my grandma in Columbus, flour everywhere, no measuring. And it’s sirenje, arguably my favorite thing ever (hint: it’s cheese).
It’s speaking Spanish with my other grandparents and friends growing up, and being completely unruly while watching Chile in the 2014 World Cup. It’s my mom lighting incense rocks in a stone dish every Sunday, blessing our house in Macedonian while the smoke drifts through the rooms.
Photo Courtesy of Sofia Bravo
None of these facets cancel each other out. They just live in the same person.
I keep coming back to the mashup. Each song holds its ground; they don’t average out into something beige. The whole thing works because of the exact spot where they collide, where one song’s chorus mingles with the other’s mood, and a third sentiment appears that neither could evoke on their own.
I think I’ve spent a long time counting my circles and never once looked in the middle.
Some days the overlap feels like a superpower. Some days it feels like not having a personality. And while both are probably true, I don’t feel a need to pick a label anymore. I don’t have to be the reporter or the legal researcher, the dad-rock listener or the pop devotee, the Macedonian or the Chilean one. I can live at their intersection.
Photo Courtesy of Sofia Bravo
So, yes, I am at the center of the Venn diagram. The commenter probably meant it as a joke, but I’m choosing to take it as a mailing address.
I still can’t answer “so what are you into?” in under a minute. These days I just let the pause run long before I start going through my circles. The list is better than any single answer I could have picked.
Strike Out,
Writer: Sofia Bravo
Editor: Ria Pai
Copy Editor: Gabriel Gonzalez Marino
Sofia Bravo is a writer for Strike Magazine Gainesville. When she’s not forcing her friends to pose for her digital camera, you can find her remodeling her Spotify playlists for the hundredth time or starting another book she knows she won’t finish. You can reach her on Instagram, @sofiebravo, or by email at sofiebravo26@gmail.com.
