I’ve been tearing up a lot lately. Usually, I’m not the type to become visibly emotional; it’s a special movie that can make me cry, and The Notebook is not it. Without turning this blog (and my first post in it) into an uncomfortably personal emotional dump, I’ll just say that these verges of tears and waves of crippling depression had their roots in something almost every college student will encounter: rejection. Not romantic rejection, but professional rejection. I had applied for summer thesis funding, a creative thesis, various summer project awards, internships, apartment leases—all the things I’d need for a summer in the city, preparing myself for senior year and beyond. I was rejected from every one.
Of course, we can’t always get what we want, but in my defense, this felt like a long buildup of confirmations that I was going nowhere with my college education and that the talents I thought would help me post-graduation actually were worthless. It felt like the start of a movie-perfect midlife crisis: what am I going to do with my future? What can I actually do with my future? How am I going to occupy my summer now? What am I going to do for three months if I go home to North Carolina (I don’t even live in the interesting parts of North Carolina)? Why am I living in a tent outside one of the university buildings, taking a shower on a narrow fire escape, and sitting on facebook stalking my friends’ more interesting, employed lives? (The partial answer to that last question is that I belong to a club that owns a house property unaffiliated with the university—so technically I can stay for free. I chose a tent because the house has no air conditioning and gets stuffy at night. The shower—we’re just remodeling the third floor shower so we hooked a hose between the faucet and nozzle and attached the nozzle to the roof, then rigged up a shower curtain over the stairs. It’s actually very refreshing, if seemingly precarious.)
Typically, we get out of these funks with some swift TLC; a movie marathon, or a massive party, or an extra long session at the gym. Once we get that quick boost of endorphins, serotonin, or dopamine, we’re fine again, and we can make new plans. I typically take a night to bake cupcakes and watch trashy movies with girls who beat up bad guys. Another one of my friends locks himself in a bathroom and sings opera at the top of his lungs. These are some ways to battle through. But for me, this avalanche of rejection started in mid-April, and now, two months later, I’m still biting my lip and getting bleary-eyed at work. I’m still living in that tent ever since dorm housing kicked me out after commencement, the commute expenses to my new job in the city will build up, and there are only so many nights I can spend with the rest of the displaced housemates in the house watching HBO and getting slowly drunk. Even though I did find a job and I’ve been through a whirlwind of reunion parties with scattered friends passing through the city, the sadness is still there—this insecurity and student-adult crisis sticks around and it sticks through our usual solutions. Now the issue isn’t that we have foolish plans and that we’re ill-prepared—we’ve just been trapped in a mood.
These mean reds (not just the blues, as Holly Golightly would specify) might take something a little more drastic or public to break out of the months-long mold of dissatisfaction and hopelessness. Take an impromptu trip (really, your schedule of job searching and apartment hunting can afford it) to the beach. Book a train to Philadelphia and go to Wayne—Valley Forge is there. Or, for more of a more city-based escape, there’s always Karaoke Boho (25% off on weekends, 50% off during the week), where another friend of mine gets brave and belts Adele when she’s feeling the mean reds—the extreme public performing snaps her funk like nothing else. Or you can go to BLICK art materials, which has a 20% discount on art supplies, and stock up on some inspiration material. If you can’t get inspired, you can always do what I did for Halloween last year:
Jackson Pollocked my entire body, then sat for therapeutic hours peeling strips of paint from my skin.
I might just do that this weekend. For the rest of you in my same position of life:okay, and mind:rough, I wish you luck in feeling good!
x
Robin
I tweet while I’m at work. I have yet to master hashtags.
My blog catalogs the things that do make me happy.
Click to get some great Student Discounts!
And download our NEW App on iTunes!
Become a fan on Facebook and follow us on twitter!
Don’t forget to sign up for our bi-weekly newsletter for student promotions and coupons and download the coupon booklet NOW
