This is where things have come to settle during what is likely to be my last college semesterâ€¦
My room is a disaster. I donâ€™t have a dresser; I have a small closet and the clothes that donâ€™t fit inside are stacked on top of a blue suitcase and a small cardboard box, both of which I have pushed against the wall. I try to make my bed to counteract the aesthetic imbalance, but most of the time I just close my bedroom door during afternoons so I donâ€™t have to reacquaint myself with the cluttering image of my bedroom.
Iâ€™m not proud of this, but the rest of my apartment is usually worthy and enjoyable, so I donâ€™t mind. I allow my room to remain â€¦ in a healthy state of fluctuation.
I start most of my mornings with coffee now. I never used to. Itâ€™s not as if I have recently acquired the taste for it either (I loved coffee before I was 10). Iâ€™ve always just tried to avoid it; I think this is mostly because Iâ€™ve always thought peopleâ€™s excessive reverence for coffee was slightly embarrassing, a beverage turned into some ritualistic savior, as entire morning existences are formulated around itâ€™s availabilityâ€¦.
â€œHowâ€™s your morning going?â€
â€œOh fineâ€¦. it will be better once I get my coffee!â€
(sheepish laughter) I cringe and my stomach feels sick. OK itâ€™s not that bad. Itâ€™s coffee, not heroin; I understand, but that sentiment is profoundly unattractive.
Coffee equals morning and no coffee equals get out of my way? I suppose.
Either way I drink it now and I donâ€™t think too hard about it. I still donâ€™t make caffeine jokesâ€¦
Iâ€™m also not eating meat. I donâ€™t like to think or talk too much about that either. I just donâ€™t. I donâ€™t even like to quietly allude that I am a vegetarian; I suppose in some ways that makes this article self-defeating, but regardless, I just donâ€™t care to explain myself with almost anything these days.
My desire to avoid meat isnâ€™t simple. Itâ€™s based upon a smattering of different inspirations, all of which I am still trying to figure out, and so in the mean time, Iâ€™ve decided to just go right at it on my own terms. I donâ€™t mind having a conversation from time to time, exchanging ideas and sharing the intricacies and nuances of a meatless diet, but more importantly, I donâ€™t feel like causing a scene when Iâ€™m over at your house for dinner, and you made chicken enchiladas. I can handle it.
I am, on the other hand, still debating whether I should make certain transitions. Iâ€™m still not sure if I can allow myself to be comfortable with the fact that the entire world seems to be more interested in staring down at cell phone screens than remaining present in spirit on the Plaza. If only they knew what they were missing (sigh).
And donâ€™t go getting all frazzled for me merely bringing this upâ€¦. I havenâ€™t fled full speed into some anti-technology commune. I havenâ€™t destroyed my cellphone for political measures or boycotted the use of my laptop. I do have thoughts about putting an axe through my television, but that would be purely for my artistic fascination.
While the status of our collective self comes to baffle me from time to time, more importantlyâ€¦ who cares! I donâ€™t. I donâ€™t use Facebook — havenâ€™t for two years. Yippie!
Throw me a party!
No. I want no stinkinâ€™ party. I want to be alive (!), and I donâ€™t care what it takes to make this happen.
I donâ€™t mind that most of my interactions end strangely. I donâ€™t mind that the girl in front of me appears to be robotically manipulated by the gods of MTV, that she canâ€™t go six whole minutes without checking her Facebook homepage. You know what? I hope she got a few more updates. I hope her heart is tickled (and not in some condescending way either).
Maybe then she will turn around and muster out a smile. Regardless, I will still be there, standing in the coffee line, making snide remarks to myself, apologizing to no one (unless of course I was mean), pretending to steal all the money out of the tip jar, just to stir things up.
Because itâ€™s 8:30 a.m. and itâ€™s more fun to do things that people arenâ€™t expecting.
_Rodger Katz is a senior liberal arts major. His column appears Fridays in the Collegian. He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. _