Struggling through the crowds on the way to class, you try to push through a sea of people who want nothing more than to accomplish the same goal. Your arrival in a classroom is somewhat of a foregone conclusion -- as soon as you get there and find your seat, you want to leave (unless of course you have an extraordinary teacher). All you want to do is perform well in the class to get a job/get into law school/get into med school/whatever else your future holds for you, but the effort stands in the way -- there is no instant gratification in education. Instead, effort and labor are necessities and are unyielding to even the most ingenious excuses.
Our generation has lost its patience. We cook in microwaves, send mail electronically and ship the things we order online by way of next-day air. We are by no means expatriates in the aftermath of The Great War, but we are our own Lost Generation.
The instantaneousness of the modern world leaves the modern citizen with a low sense of self-worth. Sure, I am speaking in extremely general terms, but with the entire world at your fingertips, you are still extremely small in comparison. One of some 12,000 students who wants nothing more than to be unique. Sometimes it feels like we're succeeding. Sometimes it feels like you are in the middle of an endless crowd who cares nothing about you. But if life is just a series of disappointments and relationships are just a system of compromises, where does happiness lie?
Drunkenness? Well, maybe temporarily, but even ethanol leaves you hanging over the thoughts you were trying to escape from in the first place.
Perhaps success is what we all crave. Academic bragging rights, recruitment from top firms on Wall Street or just winning some competition to prove your worth above others. In the end, you just want more. You are insatiable and unrelenting. Find it and take it down, then figure out what you want next.
But every weekend just brings the same desire -- blacking out. Actual memory loss is not necessary, just the overindulgence of various substances until a comfortable numbness sets in and washes away all stress and conflict. Maybe a tall glass of absinthe, maybe a pull from a jar of moonshine, maybe just a Coca-Cola Classic -- there is a very peculiar ritual in all beverages men consume.
The pint glass or stein for a beer, the snifter for brandy, the flute for champagne, the mug for coffee and the highball for drinks -- the list goes on. Each glass is seemingly crafted out of thought for the beverage, and yes, wine tastes better from a proper glass than from Dixie cup, even though it will eventually produce the same desired effect.
So as the cruel uneventful state of apathy releases you (Shins' lyrics), fill up your glass and make a toast. In the end, you will just cut your hand on the broken bottle of champagne or fall on your face in the crowded bar resulting in stitches and humiliation. Like the endings of Garden State and The Graduate, it's just uncertain. Take a chance and see what happens. The worst you will end up is with a cut hand and a busted chin.
Brett Meeks can be reached at meeks@cavalierdaily.com
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