This is for anyone who happens to have the blahs right now. Because let me tell you, I'm there with you.
I've been in a slump for a few days.
You know, one of those inexplicable declines in self-confidence where the world just seems to be one step ahead.
You seem incapable of having a normal conversation with anyone.
You realize you forgot to button your fly about 25 minutes after walking out of the bathroom in Alderman.
You find yourself telling friends a lot of stories that end with, "Well, I guess you had to be there."
You go for a walk around our beautiful Grounds to clear your head only to find that Mad Bowl looks like the Verdun, circa 1916.
You spend hours reading the Drudge Report's updates on a whale that wandered up the River Thames.
And subsequently died.
That poor little guy didn't stand a chance. Did you see them throwing buckets of water on him? It was like watching the alternative "Depressing Ending" of "Free Willy" on DVD.
Not to mention the sudden penchant of West Virginian coal mines to self-destruct, or the constant reminders that American culture is based on Wal-Marts, SUVs and reality television.
In short, I'm in a rut.
I've got the blahs.
Everything ticks me off.
The number one song on my "Most Played" track list has gone from Steppenwolf's "Magic Carpet Ride" to Simon and Garfunkel's "The Only Living Boy in New York."
That's right, I've made a decisive jump from the land of psychedelic funk to boring white boy whiny rock.
I feel like a John Cusack character, or at least a latter-day Bill Murray character.
And I tried watching "Lost in Translation" to snap out of it, but I just ended up digging myself deeper.
That is, I realized that Scarlett Johansson is my soul mate, and she'll never know it.
The icing on the cake is that Iranian President/nutcase Mahmoud Ahmadinejad is declaring that the end of the world is nigh.
And he should know. After all, he claims to have been given special knowledge that it is his responsibility to hasten the end.
Even the French are saying, "Sacre merde. Zis guy is crazeey."
The great part about the blahs is that you are free to blame everything.
It's obviously global warming. The lack of snow is getting you down, and the beautiful weather over the weekend just reminds you of the melting ice caps, the slowing of the Gulf Stream and ergo the coming apocalypse. And suddenly you find yourself thinking about Iran again.
No matter, it's obviously Nietzsche's fault. The world is falling down on your head, and now you have to deal with the fact that God is dead too.
But then again, it's also obviously your roommate's fault for some reason that you haven't decided yet, but you'll be damned if you break the awkward silence that you've constructed.
Still, even if it's none of those things, it's surely obviously France's fault.
I mean, why not?
This is the very bottom of the blahs, where there lies the dark, delicious sweetness of blame. The reason it feels so familiar is because we've all lived there for four years of our life.
Four years which incidentally go by the name "Adolescence."
So I've been behaving like an adolescent for the past three days.
But I'm on the cusp.
I'm keeping the faith.
Because somehow, one morning this week, I'll wake up and they'll be gone.
Which is one of the most frustrating things about this particular state of mind.
You can go for a run, eat a bucket of Edy's, write some terrible angsty poetry, scream into a pillow, have a good cry, go for a drive or get a hug from someone who gives good hugs. All these things will help and combination blah therapy can be especially effective.
But at least in my case, I know that I won't feel better until I wake up one morning and suddenly, I feel better.
Suddenly, I'm in step again -- or at least as in step as I get.
It's like having a bad cold, and then one day waking up, being able to breathe, and noticing it. You take about seven or eight breaths and jump around with joy (while your roommate, who you've infected, turns over and coughs).
So this time, my plan is just to wait them out. To let go for a day more or so, and wait for the alarm clock to alert me to the fact that I can stop obsessing over Drudge and go back to poring over facebook.
And maybe it will snow sometime soon!
And maybe I'll remember to button my fly!
And maybe Scarlett will finally answer one of my letters!
Or, at the very least, maybe I'll stop complaining for awhile.
A-J's column runs bi-weekly on Tuesdays. He can be reached at aronstein@cavalierdaily.com.
Read More
It’s okay not to be okay
By Mai Hukuoka | 3 days agoWhether talking to a friend, a loved one or a professional, it is so necessary, and human, to need more than you can provide for yourself.
Taking a break at Tangerines Kitchen
By Charley Thomas | 5 days agoWhat the restaurant somewhat lacks in ambiance, it compensates for in tasty dishes and prompt service.
Virginia Policy Lab — a hub for student-led policy action
By Katherine Haden | December 9, 2024Students propose their own projects and collaborate with other members to research their issues of interest, brainstorm solutions and write policy proposals.
