Apocolypse

I have a sneaking feeling that my roommates think I’m insane...

...which, as of late, may not be such an inconceivable diagnosis. 

I can’t imagine what life on earth would be like if everyone really believed in the 2012 apocalypse because living in a world with a definitive end does bizarre things to the human psyche.  When you have your existence (your job, your house, your friends, your daily routines) and you have a date (June 20th) on which all of those things will cease to be a part of your life, things look different.  It feels like swimming across a reservoir that is being drained.  You can keep striving, keep pushing, keep giving everything you have... or you could just float.  The end will be the same: you standing, wet at the bottom of an empty pit wondering where to walk to next. 

Apathy.  Detachment.  Futility.

I’ve stopped eating meals (unless it’s for a restaurant review).  I just snack compulsively throughout the day because indulging in the millions of sweet and salty treats that you can’t find in the States seems like the most valuable way to spend my time.  I’m too embarrassed to be seen eating a bag of fried plantains at 8:00 in the morning so I sneak them into my room, close the door and eat them next to the window so that the traffic noise will drown out the crunching (sign #1 for my roommates’ diagnosis).  Cups of cereal have quickly descended in rank from a luxury to a habit to an addiction.  What before I only enjoyed as a guest in someone else’s house now I consume as a prerequisite for any form of productive work: preparing class, writing a review, editing photos, updating websites... all must be performed with mug and spoon in hand.

I’ve become anti-social.  The thought of going out or meeting new people sounds about as appealing as going for a jog in a hamster wheel.  

Every time I climb the steps to my apartment I am praying that there won’t be light shining from the crack under the door.  Coming home to an empty apartment feels like biting into a melty bar of dark chocolate--I am torn between wanting to just sit and savor the stillness or to feverishly devour the opportunity, throw my bag on the floor, my coat on the chair, raid the fridge,  spill the milk and not wipe it up right away, listen to Lady Gaga on the loud speakers while making phone calls while checking my email/facebook/couchsurfing/twitter/and reddit accounts.  That way, when my roommates come home I can be doing something “chill” like drinking tea while writing in my journal or watching my goldfish eat the rainbow flake food floating at the top of the tank.  

Walking into an inhabited apartment feels like getting into a hot tub that’s only luke warm.  Your body anticipates something relaxing (coming home) but once you’re in it’s actually kind of uncomfortable.  It’s not bad enough to make a fuss over but it’s just unpleasant enough that you can’t really focus on anything and you feel constantly distracted or in need of a distraction (like a cup of cereal, for example).  Sparking a conversation feels like sparking a fire on a desert island.  Too much work.  I’d rather be cold.  Of course if one of them initiates a conversation, I play along--engaged, smiling, participating, sharing.  And then afterwards I feel like I need a nap (or a cup of cereal). 

There are three common reactions to apocalypses:

1. Crime

2. Depression

3. Carpe Diem

(I refer to the end of my Fulbright year as an apocalypse not to be dramatic but because it is, essentially the end of my present world and reality as it exists right now.)

I’m over shoplifting and I don’t want to spend my last two months in Colombia being a gluttonous introvert so I think it’s time I move on to option number three and seize the day! That may or may not involve eating plantain chips at 8:00 in the morning, but it’s the new attitude that counts.