December Thoughts: Part 1

from Nick Suss

Dec. 1, 2015, 11:38 a.m.

I had a dream this morning.

It wasn't last night. When you go to bed at 1 a.m. at the earliest, you don't have the opportunity to dream at night. But anyway, I had this dream. I was walking around Kroger with some friends. We were browsing the liquor aisle as college students sometimes do. But I turned to the left and saw the soda aisle. And while my friends picked up assorted hard drinks, I wandered off toward the soft drinks. I picked up a 12-pack of Cherry Coke and then the dream ended.

If that's not a metaphor, I don't know what is.

As many of you know, I graduate from college this month. And as many of you also know, I'm a pretty nostalgic person. Not in the "Oh my goodness do you remember that time on Double Dare" Buzzfeed kind of nostalgic. I don't call myself a "'90s Kid" and I never lament for how much kids today won't understand. I just like to mark momentous occasions. And that's where I run into a problem: I don't know what's important.

Don't get me wrong: I understand the significant moments in life. But I tend to romanticize things in my head. At minimum, I treat big days of my life like season premieres or season finales of sitcoms. But more often than not, I like to imagine things as pilots or series finales. Everything is either a grand beginning or a grand ending. And that's where the nostalgia comes in. When I graduate, that will be my finale. Dramatic music will well up in the back of my mind and things will start moving in slow motion and then Sam Malone will declare that Cheers is closed for the night and I will cry. OK, maybe not the last part. But seriously, that's just how I think.

So why am I saying this now? Good question, rhetorical question reader who interrupts my train of thought. The answer is simple: I think I found a way to combat this. I'm going to diary out my thoughts here over the next few weeks. It might be every day. It might be once or twice a week. I don't want to make any promises. But I need to get my thoughts out there. So expect quite a bit of neurotic nostalgia.

Now back to the dream.

I don't think I'm afraid of growing up. In fact, that's what I want. I don't think I'm afraid of alcohol. That would be a bizarre fear for a 21-year-old to have. I might just really like Cherry Coke. Which I do. Cherry Coke is the best. But if I were to pop on my Freud hat, I think I would be able to quite simply analyze the dream in a few sentences. Let's try. (Read the next paragraph in an Austrian accent.)

I'm not afraid of growing up. I'm just at a point where I feel I need to choose between adulthood and childhood. And in the dream, the friends symbolized the pulling pressure of maturity. But the fact that I was able to choose the more adolescent beverage and still leave with my friends means that I don't need to abandon my youth in order to be a non-youth.

Boom. Psychiatristed.

Either that or I just was craving some Cherry Coke. I think I'm going to have some with lunch.


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