"Gluttons for Punishment"

"Merde!" I swore in French after I realized that the electricity wasn't coming back on anytime soon. I was alone in the apartment, Megan and Karen had left for the forensics tournament, and I had planned on getting my French homework done and catching up on some research during this night of solitude. The seven candles in my room at this point were not the best solution for my soon-to-be ailing eyes (if I was doing this much reading as an undergraduate...would I be blind by the end of grad school?), and I really wanted to watch one of my favorite French films before going to bed.

All right, so it took less than an hour for the electricity to come back on, but at this point I had worked myself up into a fuss about how my very scheduled evening was foiled. I have books to read! Research to do! Vocabulary to memorize! Internships for which to apply! And why on earth does Johnny Depp not get more screen time in "Chocolat????"

Why is it that when something goes wrong during the most "inappropriate" times in our lives that we gets so incredibly stressed? We want to do it all...and then some. Days are scheduled, appointments are made, and we look at our watches far too often. We like to have fun, but get nervous when conversations last too long. We want to be involved, but fear that the stack of books on our desks will never get read as we research for that other thing we signed up for last week.

It's the oddest time in our lives, this last semester. I find myself moving back and forth between emotions of over-achievement--apathy--stress--contentment--a calling to save all of Africa--to a multiplicity of other feelings that will often all get felt in the same day. A friend told us that we are "gluttons for punishment"--the three of us here in this currently well-lit apartment--and we laughed at the truth held in that statement. I used to curl up in a sense of agony/agreement every time I read Sylvia Plath's words "I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest." (Esther greenwood in "The Bell Jar") But now, I feel like I don't have to choose anymore, that instead her thought poses to me a challenge rather than giving me a sense of dread. Once this rather utopian world of academia and learning comes to an end, it will be up to me to decide how not to "lose" all the rest. Because when you think about it, the most cherished memories come from the days when you were hanging on to the things you most loved, the things you got excited about, and maybe, even the things that made you cry. And yet, I will fight to the death not to lose them.

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This post is dedicated to Heather Wenzel-Colletto. :)