Don’t Make Me Adult Today



In honor of the rash of “don’t make me adult today” memes and Facebook status updates that have flooded my various newsfeeds, and to which I relate all too well, I have been inspired to explore in writing the major headaches and minor inconveniences that all fall under the vast and oppressive umbrella called “responsibility.” This sincere plea, which is a daily one for many, myself included, is uttered when the myriad things you have to do and deal with unfortunately take precedence over catching up on Ray Donovan. Although it is asked of an invisible decision-maker who will never actually answer, we all ask it each day, when our alarm clocks go off, again as our moods deteriorate precipitously on the way to work, and once more when bills are due, and on into infinity. The anxiety starts small, with trying not to get food on your clothes when you’re out to eat, and then goes off the charts, with things like trying to figure out what you want to do with the rest of your life, as if there’s one correct answer.

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A Case of the Sundays

By now, everyone should have seen the movie Office Space, and as a result should be familiar with the phrase “a case of the Mondays” that was made unfortunately popular by the film. If you have a Monday-to-Friday gig, you know the phenomenon all too well. Every Monday, you’re engulfed by an overwhelming sense of dread, anger, gut-wrenching boredom, and a practiced apathy. You lament the fact that the weekend seemed to pass by faster than an hour at work, and as you shift your car into drive to head to your own personal hell, you entertain a thought of driving across the country and never returning. That thought quickly dissipates, along with the pained smile that it subconsciously wrought. Your mood deteriorates even further on your way in. You have a headache by the time you arrive, before you even turn on the computer you’re about to stare at for the next eight hours. If you’re less than thrilled with your job (which I would imagine most people are, whether or not they’ll publicly admit it), then work is the one place where you’ll actually sit and wish hours of your life away.  Continue reading

Extra Innings


After the first time I was done, I swore to myself that I would never go back. I thought up every excuse in the book, just to convince myself, let alone anyone else. Too much debt. Not enough time. No clue what I want to do. That was just the tip of the iceberg. I had just graduated from Rutgers University with a B.A. in Political Science, and was still naïve enough to believe that the piece of paper I received, regardless of what I majored in, would see job offers thrown at me from all directions like baseballs from the stands. I went to college because that’s what you’re supposed to do after high school nowadays. I had no idea what I wanted to do, and it didn’t help me figure it out. I’ve spent a long time cursing my decision to ever go, blaming it for leaving me directionless and saddled with a mountain of debt. I’ll never regret the experience, though – the lasting friends that I made, blowing right past the “Freshman 15” and packing on double or even triple that with bad dining hall food, learning to love beer, being able to take afternoon naps, discovering new ideas, new music, and new people – I loved every minute of it. Continue reading