The perils of hiatus
When laze meets malaise
Ben Poggemiller Staff
*Sigh* It’s over. We’re back at school. Even as you read this, which you probably aren’t for the same reason that I wouldn’t want to, you’d rather be sleeping, drinking, or sleeping after too much drinking. Even as I write this, I’d rather be watching movies in my pajamas. After nearly a month away from school, my mind has transformed from a well-tuned academic BMW into a rusted, Michael Bay-tolerating LeBaron of idiocy. My motto during the break echoed Milhouse from The Simpsons: “Not only am I not learning, I’m forgetting stuff I used to know.” I literally feel dumber. The work I did during the first semester seems unfathomable to me and I can’t believe I was capable of doing anything besides planning out my viewing schedule for the day.
In October I was already anticipating the winter break, but for a different reason than just laziness. I would make grand, sweeping gestures with my arms and with a grand voice say things like, “I’m going to finish my essay two months early” and “I’m going to read three novels and get ahead.” When Dec. 11, the day of my last exam, rolled around I was ready to decompress and relax a bit. I never looked back. I haven’t read a thing since then. I barely even read the program descriptions on my cable box guide.
The break wasn’t a total waste, however. I had time to get in touch with my own beliefs. Maury Povich reaffirmed my belief in a monogamous relationship and the reliability of a lie-detector test, and I took pride in my conviction that Monster Mash is a great year-round song. I learned some valuable lessons, too. The Price is Right taught me that no two digits in the price of a car are ever the same. I got to be constructive outside of the essay format. I invented a sandwich, which I cleverly call Ben P’s Grilled Cheese with Ranch Sauce in it, and it is exactly what it sounds like.
I vainly attempted to hone my academic skills by doing simple “compare and contrast” exercises. It took all of my mental energy, but I was successfully able to determine why my life is different from a dog’s. This is 100 per cent true. I was at my girlfriend’s house, sitting with her dog Joey, and I realized that our basic daily routine was the same. During December, I would get up, go to the bathroom, eat a bit and then hit the couch. As I thought about this, I tried to validate my meaningless existence by coming up with a reason why I was better than Joey. I figured it out and I sat back smugly, knowing that I didn’t have to whine for somebody to take me outside to pee.
Now I have to get back on track. I need to focus on academia and the Blade Runner Five-Disc Ultimate Collector’s Edition I got for Christmas isn’t going to help. James Bond, Optimus Prime, Luke Skywalker, and Sergio Leone will be replaced with Immanuel Kant, Ernest Hemingway, Margaret Laurence, and Jacques Derrida. I hope I’m not alone in feeling this sense of loss. There is no freedom left. True freedom is in knowing that I could be doing something useful and choosing not to. Joey doesn’t have the choice. That’s a choice I wouldn’t trade for peeing outside.
