I’m really not a crier. Not at movies, when I’m sad, when I’m frustrated, nothing. It just doesn’t happen. My entire family is that way, we just aren’t wired to shed tears.

I flew home for a funeral two months ago and my mom’s best friend from childhood came over, sobbing her condolences as she handed us boxes of muffins and pastries. After she left, the three of us looked at each other, our brows furrowed, until finally my mom asked aloud, “What’s wrong with us?”

That’s not to say we don’t mourn. Oh, we mourn, we grieve, but we’re more the type to crack a joke or tell a story about the departed than clutch a box of Kleenex and let our mascara run. Well, my mother and I. Dad doesn’t wear mascara.

When I picked up and left home to move for my career, as we all call our first job after college in attempt to take ourselves more seriously, I really only cried when I said my goodbyes to my college roommates and after I walked my parents to their taxi. For like a minute, and then it was time to get real. Since I’ve been here, it’s just not something I have time or privacy for. Read More »

Irksome classmates? I’ll take the gaff for those of you who know what I’m talkin’ about. The subject of irritating, insulting, insolent classmates was briefly mentioned in the first part of this discussion about experiencing “the college blues.” That first piece discussed the “professional” aspects of college that make students susceptible to depression. Since depression is enormously complex, I’m going to narrow it further and frame it by space: the “public” (classroom settings) and the “private” (intimate relationships).

Although the notion of public versus private is enormously complicated, particularly à la Habermas, etc., I’m simplifying those terms for the sake of this discussion about depression. (Please make note, the public discussion is aimed towards “nerdier” readers in the humanities, i.e. those who identify themselves as being highly competitive within the liberal arts, say in the disciplines of film, philosophy, literature, history, etc.). I also have words for you about graduate school – it only gets worse. Plus, the pedagogical approach changes dramatically and professors no longer praise you. If you are heading to graduate school next year, right after completing your B.A. (which I don’t recommend), prepare yourself for this change. It can cause depression, too. For the time being, however, let’s discuss your frustrating classmates.

This is not the time to guffaw, shrug, or defensively say, “Whatever, it’s just class . . . Even though I’m frothing at the mouth ever time I leave, because a classmate cut me off and libelously twisted my words during discussion. I mean, it’s Friday and I’m just ready to hang out with my friends, and forget about my irritating classmate.” If you’re like me, however, you don’t forget about it. Read More »