Wake Me Up When October Ends

Mid-October and halfway through the semester, and I’m similarly divided between “It’s gone so fast!” and “Will it ever end?” I have spent the last several weeks adjusting to the fluidity of my schedule and habits, and it’s hard to tell whether I have adapted quickly or been so focused on doing so that I just missed how fast time was passing. Now, more than ever, time seems to be just as lethargic as I am, slowly creeping by, day to day and week to week.

The cold, the fatigue, the drained motivation, the dejection; my luck seems to be running out. The last few weeks have felt more like going through the motions than any other point in my life, and I have no doubts that in the weeks to come I will be equally strained. I find that as fall and winter begin to blend seamlessly, or at least in a balanced manner, I am less in tune with my human side and far more in tune with the squirrel ideologies mentioned a few posts before.

Walking home on Sunday morning, I noticed a stout squirrel deliberating over where to bury the nut in its cheek pouch and couldn’t help but be reminded of how I, too, must approach my finite motivation with a particular prudence. There are infinite ways to apply myself, investing my treasure to prepare for the future, but I can only do so many things at a time and have only so much motivation before I burn out.

One of my best friends reminded me, though, that even if I’m stuck in colder weather, maybe tomorrow will be better. We walked to get breakfast after our morning biology class, settling at a table looking out at a yard of sorts, sparse but attention-grabbing. James pointed the tree out to me, saying how beautiful the leaves are and how much it contrasts against the rest of the yard. Red is not often a color of reflection but this particular piece of flora, more so than the myriad others on campus, admonished me to relisten to “Wake Me Up When September Ends” by Green Day.

An iconic anthem that contrasts much of the band’s rock repertoire, the song reflects bitterly on the rain that reminds the band of the pain that has shaped them into the men they are today. Although September has come and passed, I feel a similar bitterness towards October, the month separating autumn from winter. Perhaps I see it as the month before Thanksgiving and winter break are tangible, being yet another obstacle preventing me from escaping the perpetual academic cycle and seeing my family and dog again.

Or maybe I just am too tired to see life for what it is; beautifully finite. The indisputable end of everything is the reason why life is so beautiful. As Homer so astutely noted, “Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed.” It is only after we accept that we cannot control anything but today, and let go, that we can begin to find peace in ourselves.