Watch an old movie this week, be it something you’ve seen 1,000 times or one you’ve never seen, it just happened to come out in 1930 or whatever. Use their ridiculous trans-Atlantic accents to amuse your friends: “Well, see, the only reason I did it is because I LOVE ya, Mary! Can’t you see?” Etc., etc.
Cold temperatures + hand sani = dry lips and hands. DON’T LET THIS HAPPEN TO YOU. Solutions: Lotion, hydration, lip balm, selling your soul in a Faustian manner to someone who may or may not be the devil. (Spoiler: It’s literally always the devil. Who else would have the power to take your soul? Come on. Be smart.)
Sometimes you put off laundry for two weeks and then when you finally do it your favorite sweater shrinks a little bit in the wash. Woe is ye. But such is life. Maybe this is a lesson to not put off laundry for two weeks, or maybe it’s a lesson in acceptance. Is the sweater truly ruined, or are you just limiting yourself?
It is now the season of not-writing-final-papers-but-worrying-about-them-anyway. Pre-worrying, if I may give it a term. This is a bad idea, but it is also inevitable. Distract yourself with these two foolproof methods!: Rank every Deece chocolate chip cookie based on hardness/softness. Try and pet a squirrel.
I think we as a society need to examine whatever’s going on in the ice cream scoop water. What organisms thrive within the warm, wet confines of that little plastic bucket? What ecosystems have risen, ruled, died out? Was there a mass extinction in the ice cream scoop water? How long until the answers are uncovered?
I feel like the application with which you write papers says a lot about you. Are you more of a Google Docs or a Microsoft Word person? And don’t even get me started on font. I’m a Times New Roman die-hard, but maybe you prefer Arial. (Open letter to those who write papers in Calibri: Don’t. Stop.)
Approaching the weird point where it’s freezing outside yet still somehow too warm in my room? Why is the radiator so hot when the dial swears to me that it isn’t even on? It’s going to melt my plastic. The mysteries of life continue far past those of my radiator, however. What are your mysteries? Solve them this week.
Okay, you’re gonna think I’m crazy, but I SWEAR the stars have told me that this Saturday your evening is wide open. How unbelievably strange. And I can’t shake the notion that you should–– nay, must––go to Skinner Hall at 8 p.m. on Saturday, Nov. 13. Well, I shan’t argue with the stars, I suppose.
Can you ever really know a person? That’s a trick question; of course you can. But can you ever really know a little animal? I mean, even a pet. Who’s to say what my cats are ever thinking. Do they cover everything in fur on purpose? Or do they live their little lives of decadence away from the cruelties of the world?
One of my many hobbies is hoarding little papers and posters to hang on my walls or just collect for safekeeping. Experiment with hoarding this week––cards, pins, stickers, anything being given away by someone else which you are free to take. Maybe it’s fulfilling our inherent gatherer instinct.
Appreciating the small things is very easy and something you should do every day, but I don’t even mean the small things like trees and grass and flowers. I mean, say thank you to your doorknob today. Tell your light switch you love it, because it gives you light. Thank your emails––haha just kidding!
I have a confession to make: I literally can’t tell metals apart. What’s “brass” and how is it different from “copper”? Ask yourself this week––what do you not know the answers to? And then, ask: Do you even really want to know? Sometimes knowledge is a burden, a curse. Are you prepared to live with it?