The Valentine's Edition

It's Valentine's Day, y'all. Some of you have had Valentine's Day all week because you've been snowed in and were boo'd up at the house. Good for you. I hope you're happy.

(Ignore the implied bitterness there; it was a joke.)

Happy Valentine's Day! I sincerely hope that those of you who were trapped in the house with your significant other all week are not now so sick of them that you're thinking about returning those chocolates, or whatever it is that the Boo'd Up buy each other on V-Day. I am not boo'd up, nor have I ever been, so I have no idea.

(That wasn't bitterness per se; more like the deep breath before the plunge)

This year, I'm single on Valentine's Day. For that matter, I'm single every Valentine's Day. No one make comments about how sad that is. I honestly don't care. At the same time, there comes a point in a girl's life where she has to wonder if it's normal that she'll be 25 in 8 months and has never crushed on anyone less famous than Joseph Gordon-Levitt (seriously guys he is so cute). It's easy to buy into the unmarriable/unlovable Black woman trope when it's been a quiet understanding from the last few guys you might have been into that you weren't what they were expected to bring home to Mama. Y'all know what I mean. It's easy to feel like you're doing something wrong in your life when you're the last single cousin and your relatives tell you every chance they get, "I can't wait for you to get a man; you'll feel so much better."

But that's not me! Not today it's not! Y'all post all the cute "Look what bae got me" pictures on Instagram that you want. I'm going to get myself a new book to read now that the roads are clear, I'm going to pick up something cute for my mom, and I'm going to flex my culinary chops in my really great but underused kitchen. I have 3 words for y'all: Turtle. Brownie. Pies. That's right. Be jealous. Again I say happy Valentine's Day. And since literary humor is fun....

The Problem with Apathy

Two weeks ago, I applied for graduation and it didn’t feel anything like I remembered.

There was no sudden lightheartedness at the weight of college being lifted off my shoulders, no urge to cut cartwheels all over the house, no overwhelming joy. It didn’t feel like anything at all. It was like I was one of those women on Say Yes to the Dress that expects a big, teary-eyed AHA moment when they find the perfect gown, and then they get to Kleinfeld’s and nothing happens.

I remember exactly what it felt like in undergrad when it sank in that I was finally graduating. I had spent the 24 hours previous running all over hill and country trying to get a last-minute class substitution (because it’s never as easy as your adviser says it is), and was up all night rewriting an old paper leftover from engineering to make sure that class got substituted. I’m pretty sure I cried for 9 straight hours because there was a serious chance my request was going to get denied. I remember that the sun was shining that day and the sky was blue. It felt like cold relief.

Nothing like that happened this time. I just hit submit, closed my laptop, and watched Duck Dynasty for the next 4 hours. (I can see y’all judging me, and I’m telling you right now I don’t care)

My lack of reaction was disappointing.

I have fought Clemson tooth and nail for six long years. I hate the place. You guys know that. And all of that hate needs to manifest itself somehow, because it can’t stay bottled up inside of me. Most often it appears as snark and anger, both fueled by too much caffeine since I'm not much for drinking. It never wells up and dissolves into 4 hours of Duck Dynasty on my couch. I didn’t think too much about it at the time, but some time last week I had a horrifying thought.


Is apathy what happens when you stop caring and start settling?