If I've learned anything as an English major, it's that a piece can change exponentially depending on which perspective or theory is imposed upon it. Recently, I read an essay on "The Wizard of Oz" that left me questioning Dorothy's sexual tendencies. Applying theories and perspectives to different forms of media not only further illuminates them, but instills a greater appreciation or a new understanding.
Similar to English, application of perspective can be done in real life. This is commonly referred to as someone's "attitude," how we look at the world and what we think about such serious subjects as the seasonal flu, for example.
As the new week began yesterday morning and my alarm sounded at a disturbingly early hour, I lay in bed, wondering if perhaps overnight, I had acquired a virus, a flu, some indigestion — anything that would prevent me from going to class. Unfortunately, I seemed to be pretty healthy. I could walk, I could talk and I definitely hadn't overslept. Unable to imagine a truly convincing reason to stay home, I microwaved some Cinnamon Spice oatmeal and turned on CNN, just in time for my amFIX. The new week had begun, and I could imagine campus collectively groaning upon realizing this week's innumerable tests, essays, quizzes and appointments.
Earlier in October, when it seemed one in three students was clutching a Kleenex and popping DayQuil like popcorn in a movie theater, I joked to my roommates, "If you get sick, let me know so we can share the same glass. It sounds like the next best thing to vacation."
I didn't necessarily want anything long-lasting, just a two- or three-day virus best cured by relaxation and ice cream.
As I sat at my desk for the better part of October, reading articles and writing essays, I daydreamed about lying in bed, watching Gossip Girl episodes, reading Dave Eggers and injecting chicken noodle soup into my veins. What were all these people complaining about?
Of course, getting sick doesn't always result in spending hours with the upper-Eastsiders. Sometimes all an indisposed individual can do is sleep, which, to most college students, sounds ideal, especially around this time when the daylight fades as quickly as the green foliage. I hear students comment on their sleeping patterns daily, showing each other their "scars" — bleary eyes unable to focus and coffees with triple shots of espresso. We're so eager to prove ourselves as superheroes by way of our incredible sleepless stamina.
Recently, professors have noticed declining attendance, and class policies regarding such are relaxing. A few of my professors sent e-mails to reassure students that missing classes due to illness will not affect their grades, and they have even recommended staying home. Rather than ill students dragging themselves to class and disrupting lectures by incessantly clearing their throat and swallowing the by-product, our professors are actually encouraging us to stay in bed beneath our blankets and slurp as much soup as possible — such is the students' unpaid sick leave.
As Einstein once said, "In the middle of every difficulty lies opportunity." So in between blowing a mucus-infested nose and trying to find another blanket to stop the relentless chills, count your blessings while the rest of us begrudgingly walk to class and continue to take notes, hoping our vacation will come soon.