I’m going to vent for a minute on the behalf of, well, everyone: nothing is right. Nothing. I feel like I am a walking disclaimer of “fine, but not quite good enough.” Whether it be classes or a grade on a test or a particular friendship that is just not where I want it to be or the more superficial but just as impactful to my morning routine running out of coffee on a Monday — yes, that is right, a Monday also known as Day of Ten Hours of Class But I’m Not Complaining Because That’s Basic — nothing seems to be going the way I thought it would. I’m just tired. Tired to my bones. And aren’t we all?
Everyone I have run into recently has been somewhere on the spectrum of Near Collapsing to Collapsing. So, yeah, not much wiggle room there. Everyone is tired. It’s all the stuff. Every week has its new set of challenges, its new list of items to check off before I can crawl into my bed. Despite the tired-to-my-bones feeling, my mind races with things that I failed to complete or things I just straight failed.
I think to a certain extent, what happens to us in a span of time, let’s say a day for example, is largely due to how we … what, you ask? Ah, wisdom of the ages about to pour over your sweet, precious, tired heads: It is how we wake up in the morning. Hear me out, friends. I’ve conducted an experiment on myself for the past few days and here is the short version because you all are probably tired (did you catch that) of reading my words, words, words on this page or screen or cellular device and you’re just like “get to the end already so I can actually move on with my life” so, friends and family, here it is, get ready.
Results: Do you remember Maria from The Sound of Music? The “hills are alive” girl with short hair and funny dresses. Well, I have found that on the days that I wake up singing that the hills are alive, then the days were, well, alive. They are alive with my favorite Today’s Hip-Hop & Rap station on Pandora (don’t judge). Alive with classes that help me explore material I find myself inevitably fascinated with. Alive with the loving, joyful, real community that surrounds me. Alive with my midnight popcorn and baby’s breath for ninety-nine cents on the kitchen table. Alive with the people who happen to inhabit the library at the same hours that I am there — you know who you are — and that I have yet to name but will probably involve something like “swag” or “crew” or “gangster squad” or something of similar flavor. Alive days are my kind of day. I’m more productive, more joyful, and way, way, way less tired.
Friends, alive days are hard to come by this time of year. I get it, I’m just as tired as you, no matter how busy or hectic you think your life is there is always someone there who is there with you. I’m beyond caffeine and I’m beyond getting enough sleep. I’m over complaining. I’m over telling people I’m tired. I’m over hearing it from all of you if I’m being very honest.
Let’s look alive, be alive, practice life. Wake up singing that the hills are alive, if that’s what you need. Put an extra shot in your dirty chai, if that’s what you need. Take an evening off and go dance like you’ve never danced before at formal, if that’s what you need. Alive, alive, alive. These hills are alive. And so am I.
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Follow Taylor Nam on Twitter: @nam_nam330
