2008 Woodie Awards
A preface to lunch: Where everybody knows your name
James O'Brien
Issue date: 4/24/08 Section: Opinions
It has taken me nearly a full two years at Middlebury College, but I have finally learned that everyone has problems. Paradoxically, most of us seem to believe that the hard-working students around us are crises-free, while, at the same time, we downplay our issues because we have the vague understanding that someone out there certainly has it worse. In other words, we tend to think that no one understands us, but we also believe that plenty of people are suffering more. Technically we understand that the students buzzing around us have tough things going on in their lives, but since we never see this for ourselves, it is nearly impossible not to feel a little out of place. The people around me seem constantly chipper, focused and ready to begin a robotic day of schoolwork and productivity. They are saving lives, promoting causes and getting As. You might feel the same way - you can't quite figure out how they do it, but they must know something you don't.
It's strange how we think other students have everything under control while they are looking right back at us thinking the same thing. This phenomenon contributes to our collective psychosis and the desire to seem happy and normal. I'm not sure exactly how to remedy this situation. We can't walk around wearing our issues on our shirts or constantly venting to strangers about family deaths. Maybe, as we pick up our backpacks, the ones bursting at the seams from sheer volume of books we are carrying - books whose contents we will soon forget along with their titles - we can tape signs to the backs. The signs might say: "I understand."
The other end of the spectrum - the idea that our personal trials are somehow "easier" than, say, starving Africans or immigrant workers - is a noble but troubling impulse. I can imagine a Middlebury student lying on the slopes after a skiing accident with a bone sticking out of his or her leg, thinking: "I really can't complain. I'm certainly better off than the Headless Horseman." Downplaying our own issues is common - in part because we are constantly bombarded with images of international atrocities and victims that put our daily burdens to shame. It is very important, however, that we do not take our (often admittedly trivial) problems too lightly simply because we know that, somewhere, other people are having a tougher time. In my limited experience with sadness and frustration, I find that human emotions tend to adapt to situations. If we are living our lives at a time of low stress, our minds will somehow find relatively small things to worry about. Conversely, when we are stressed, our minds automatically adjust to the situation and we can usually cope no matter what the problem is. It almost seems desirable to have "real problems" because serious troubles make us feel more justified in our worrying. The recognition and acknowledgement of extreme problems in the outside world can actually make us feel worse about our situation without knowing why.
It's strange how we think other students have everything under control while they are looking right back at us thinking the same thing. This phenomenon contributes to our collective psychosis and the desire to seem happy and normal. I'm not sure exactly how to remedy this situation. We can't walk around wearing our issues on our shirts or constantly venting to strangers about family deaths. Maybe, as we pick up our backpacks, the ones bursting at the seams from sheer volume of books we are carrying - books whose contents we will soon forget along with their titles - we can tape signs to the backs. The signs might say: "I understand."
The other end of the spectrum - the idea that our personal trials are somehow "easier" than, say, starving Africans or immigrant workers - is a noble but troubling impulse. I can imagine a Middlebury student lying on the slopes after a skiing accident with a bone sticking out of his or her leg, thinking: "I really can't complain. I'm certainly better off than the Headless Horseman." Downplaying our own issues is common - in part because we are constantly bombarded with images of international atrocities and victims that put our daily burdens to shame. It is very important, however, that we do not take our (often admittedly trivial) problems too lightly simply because we know that, somewhere, other people are having a tougher time. In my limited experience with sadness and frustration, I find that human emotions tend to adapt to situations. If we are living our lives at a time of low stress, our minds will somehow find relatively small things to worry about. Conversely, when we are stressed, our minds automatically adjust to the situation and we can usually cope no matter what the problem is. It almost seems desirable to have "real problems" because serious troubles make us feel more justified in our worrying. The recognition and acknowledgement of extreme problems in the outside world can actually make us feel worse about our situation without knowing why.
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Douglas
posted 4/24/08 @ 5:46 PM EST
I was surprised to open up the Campus this morning and discover a thoughtful, interesting, and actually readable piece by James O'Brien. Good boy, throw him a dog biscuit. (Continued…)
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