Lately, I feel like there has been too much ranting and raving on my part. This became particularly evident when I realized that my ranting had surpassed concrete items and moved onto abstract themes like the entire notion of time. So, in honor of this self-conscious observation, my article this week will instead describe everything I love, and would therefore never find myself ranting about.

I love my cat. I have a special place in my heart reserved for sticking my face in my cat’s fur and playing with his whiskers. This summer, I went to Israel for the first time, and was bombarded with cats everywhere I turned. When we had dinner outside, the cats and dogs came over to us and we fed them. It was a beautiful time. I also love Israel, for that matter. That country has more concentrated soul than I have ever witnessed in any other place I have been to.

I love sharing something so absurdly hilarious with someone that we are both, within a minute, rolling around on the floor, stomach-cramped and in tears. Luckily, Binghamton has been a great environment for this kind of laughter, leading to me leave my mark on most hallways, corridors and patchy grasses on campus. I love my grandmother’s soft hands, and having the awareness that one day I won’t be able to hold them anymore, but I’ll still remember how they felt.

I love when I start to miss someone and plan to contact them, and they end up calling or writing me randomly that day. I love doing headstands in the ocean and getting knocked over by a wave. Or doing headstands in the pool and waiting until my legs get really cold from the wind before I drop them into the water and feel how warm it is.

I love no longer having any reservations about blasting a Joanna Newsom song in my dorm room that sounds like a bunch of coyotes being raped with lamp posts. I love having something to occupy my hands with — especially in large social situations where I can reliably look down at my little friend (be it a string, cigarette, book or button) and not have to make eye contact with a bunch of other flustered and awkward fucks.

I love looking at the moon when it’s the color of ginger tea. I love being paid a genuine compliment, with no agenda behind it. I love discovering people’s individual idiosyncrasies. I love watching paper dance as it burns down to nothing. I love being the DJ in my friend’s car back home, blasting Biggie as we drive past the uniformly manicured lawns. I love unpredictable changes in music. I love delicate, beautiful words. I also love harsh, straight-out-the-back-of-a-sailor’s-ass words as well. I love when people back up their heated words with action. I also love noticing when people are completely passive-aggressive and can’t change that about themselves.

I love exposing people to Elliott Smith. I love opening my eyes to positivity when I’m hard-pressed to find any. I also really love patting snow when it’s fresh and soft and I’m wearing mittens.

Now that I have run the gamut of things I love, I will end this article. I hope you enjoyed this, bearing in mind that next week I will return to my old, disgruntled, miserly self.

Reina is a freshman English major. Email her at rberger1@binghamton.edu with your own list of taking-a-break-from-cynicism favorites.