Okay, I started this post in the beginning of the school year when I was still bright-eyed and bushy-tailed; still able to do my work without my eyes falling out of my head; still marginally happy about my decision to go back to graduate school.
Oh how times changed. That was all before the institution of the weekly emotional breakdown. It happened like clockwork on Friday at about 6pm and, if I didn't do anything about it, lasted through the weekend. During this time I did any number of things including but not limited to crying, whimpering, looking at pictures from years past, eating my feelings (the only reason I know how to bake cookies), picking fights with my boyfriend, accusing him of things he probably did not do, and of not doing things he probably did.
If you tack the stress of finals on the end of the breakdowns, that pretty much sums up first semester for me.
Graduate school has, however, done some fabulous things for me. First and foremost, it has given me a purpose - a real reason to get out of bed in the morning. And, other than Sunday brunches and kicking other people's asses in yoga class (yeah I know it's a ludicrous concept), I was lacking a purpose.
Now, I know that sounds ridiculous, but it's true. No more floating through life waiting for something interesting to come along and challenge me. Now I get slammed with interesting shit ALL DAY. I can't outrun it! I spend my days examining the relationship between capitalism and democracy (or, as I have begun to intentionally mistype it just for a giggle, democrazy). Reading Chomsky and Bagdikian and Mills and pondering (I'm always pondering these days) what is to be done? ALL THE FUCKING TIME.
Which brings me to the second wonderful thing about graduate school: vacation.
I have spent the last month vacating and allowing cable TV and wine to obliterate any intelligence I may have gained in the last four months. The word "vacation" has never been so laden with meaning for me as it has in the last month, as I have felt totally and absolutely vacant. As in "The brain has exited the building."
Now, it has come to my attention that us 20 somethings have a slightly misconstrued view of what vacation is, so I thought I would take some time to clear it up for all of us. Let's start with what vacation is not:
Rule #1: A family vacation is no vacation at all.
The idea of a family vacation is oxymoronic. Intead let's call it a family trip; an outing; an annual reminder of why you don't all share one house anymore. I don't care how much you love your family; I love hanging out with my family - they're hilarious and fun and we all eat and drink well, but hanging out with them or going somewhere with them is not vacation. It's a different beast altogether.
Rule #2: Setting aside five days for vacation guarantees only one day of actual relaxation.
It always takes me at least 2 days to entirely unwind from my real life, and then I invariably start thinking about real life in the two days before I leave, so I really only forget the rest of the world and relax for about one day. This "real" relaxation should not be confused with "apparant" relaxation (such as when I watch 6 hours of Top Chef followed by 2 hours of Queer Eye reruns). So remember, if you're planning a vacation, think big, or rather, long. (That's what she said!)
Rule #3: Vacation means you have to leave the house.
My best friend Tasha called me a few weeks ago and told me that she used one of her vacation days that day. And I said, wow - you don't often take vacations so that's a big deal. What are you doing? And she said, well, I've already cleaned my floors and made breakfast and now I'm looking some stuff up on the computer. And then I said, Tash! That's not a vacation. Because it's only vacation if you leave the house. (Which was really just my way of getting to her drive 40 minutes from her home to come visit me because I was too lazy to leave the house - Note to self: write new post on new and creative ways to manipulate your friends). This rule was difficult for me, as I spent nearly a full month in my dad's house watching TV wondering why I didn't feel relaxed. It isn't until you get your ass up and go somewhere else that you actually started to relax (unless, as it turns out, that place is New York, in which case you can only relax if you decide to hide from all of your friends).
Rule #4: Take a man/Don't take a man
Don't get my wrong, I love going on vacation with my boyfriend. He is sweet and wonderful and we have a fabulous time. And it's of course nice just to shake things up a little. But I'm going to offer my plug for going on vacation either alone or with your friends. Not because your man puts a damper on your fun-having abilities, but rather because being selfish and gluttonous is part of vacation and if you're planning on getting married you can't just up and leave when you feel like having some alone time. So let's get that shit out of the way when it's still kosher.
I am only now just ending my vacation and beginning to feel purposeless once more. And so I welcome my impending nervous breakdowns and mental torture with open arms like they're old friends. I have even been reteaching myself how to read in anticipation of the new semester. And slowly weaning myself off of cable.
Oh Fine Living Network reruns...I'll miss you the most.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
