Bring back desperation

Two days straight of “Short Skirt Weather™” plus a post-spring break glow has led me to the following three goals for my next (last) nine weeks of college: 1) Go on a small but meaningful apology tour, 2) Cancel all resentment for fellow flawed human beings and 3) Bring back desperate energy. 

The first two are pretty self-explanatory: The apology tour will either come in the form of a text or a letter (or a big, drunk hug this weekend at the annual Legacy St. Paddy’s Day Darty); on the other hand, my mission to cancel all my resentment will hopefully entail me attempting to lead with a spirit of openness towards people I have written off for the past couple of weeks, months or years.

The last one is a new addition: Bring back desperation. No, really.

I started thinking about desperation at the beginning of this year, as I began mentoring the first floor freshman of the esteemed Breen-Phillips Hall community. 

I swear I saw something in these girls that I realize now I truly missed in myself—I think it was eagerness or fascination or excitement. They all seemed absolutely stoked to be here, while I felt just a little bit over it. 

Every year, I admit it’s fun to see the freshmen wandering campus, full of wonder, confusion, overdressing for class (well, me too), overpacking, overly-friendly, fascinated by everyone and everything. I wonder if there’s a way you can bottle that energy—because I swear there’s nothing like it. It’s terrifying and electric and unbelievable. It’s something you’ll never feel again. 

I admit, there is almost nothing I miss about freshman year (see: crippling imposter’s syndrome, getting banned from Morrissey for a week and barely scraping through Beginning Logic class)-- but one thing I do miss is the desperation.

Not the “desolate,” “downcast,” “distraught” flavor of desperation, but the “do-or-die,” “last-chance,” “wild,” “frantic” and “fun” flavor. Being hungry but not starving. Eager but not too eager. And open to almost everything and everyone.

On one hand, when you start a new experience, you don’t know anyone and no one knows you, and that can feel isolating and unfun. On the other hand, you don’t know anyone and no one knows you, and that can feel totally liberating. It’s a double-edged sword, but boy do I miss that second edge. 

Because being unknown and eager meant sitting on park benches with a guy you just met after a party, and you’re talking about your hopes and dreams and swapping Spotify’s. It meant making a best friend in the hallway of DeBart or the bleachers of a Notre Dame Football game. It meant b-lining across the bar for a guy in an Abercrombie & Fitch polo by the pool table at Newf’s just to say, “my God, I just love Abercrombie & Fitch!” 

Now that I’m older and more comfortable and know who I love and trust, I often find myself with less urgency, less energy and less incentive to encounter and develop new relationships. But it doesn’t have to be this way.

It’s easy to take all the same paths to class, eat all the same meals and talk to all the same people. And that’s not always a bad thing. 

We do these things over and over again because they’re good. We order the Buddha Bowl because it’s yummy, and we hang out with our friends because they’re incredible and beautiful and mean everything to us.

But there’s no need to shut off because we feel satisfied with our social lives. There’s no need to walk away from great people and great opportunities because we know we already have something good going. 

I decided on the Monday we returned from break that I would say hi to people I know and have a positive feeling about. I would stop and chat at length in the ACE building with the girlfriend from freshman year who I hardly ever see. I would hang out with a new friend and talk about life till the wee hours of night sprawled on her carpet. I would be open to second chances, not resent people or wonder why, just leave the bitterness at the door. 

I’m not saying I’m any good at this. I’m not even saying I’m decent at this. I’m just saying I’m trying.