When bad weeks happen to good people: Some sanity-saving tips

Last week was, to say the least, a very rough week for me. The running and planning of Senior Week, not to mention that whole "academics" thing that keeps getting in my way, have very nearly killed me and the other class officers. Days and nights spent with trivia questions, hoagies and Bob Dylan's promoter (a man whose physical appearance and ray-of-sunshine-like personality cause me to refer to him as "Beard-o"), have left me with very little free time. My extracurricular responsibilities are beginning to put a strain on my ability to feel like an active participant in what I used to call my life. But two good things did come of it: Senior Week (don't argue this one with me) and a general list of helpful rules on contributing to the mental stability of Others who are Having Bad Weeks.

First of all, be delicate with these people. Don't pick fights, disagree with anything they say (even if it's about your mother — especially if it's about your mother) or discuss anything that requires deep thought. Current-event topics are out of the question, and soothing tones are recommended. If it is possible to string your conversation into a lullaby, then by all means, go ahead.

Don't mess with tradition. If there is an established seating arrangement in your precept or seminar, don't get all wild and crazy and try to sit somewhere else. No OHBW likes to snap out of a dull, blank stare to find that the person across from them is now somewhat attractive — or the opposite, is the preceptor.

Also on seating arrangements — chances are, there is an OHBW in your lectures. If you suddenly feel the need to ask a question or share some bright nugget of wisdom with the professor, look beside you. If your neighbor is passed out cold in a puddle of his own drool, try giving him a nudge before you bring the attention of your professor rocketing over to the area that you share. Otherwise, let sleeping undergrads lie.

Open on the first try — this means you, mailboxes in Frist.

If you run into an OHBW friend, do not say, "Look at the bags beneath your eyes!" This does not make him feel better. The best thing to do in this case is to blatantly lie. Tell him he looks like the embodiment of health. Say he looks like he's lost weight. Compliment his shirt. Do not tell him that it would look better on your floor.

Time management is also key. The Princeton meet-and-greet social code is suspended for OHBW. Just for the week, there is no need to nod or make inane chatter with former RA group members, people who shared an SPA 101 class or anyone they have ever dated in the past. It's kind of like pretending you live in New York City.

After the week is over, talk to an OHBW about useful time-saving tips and learned experiences. I personally discovered this week that you can do an entire problem set using www.AskJeeves.com and a magic eight ball, that Samoas are by far the most nutritious Girl Scout Cookie to substitute for a meal (it's the coconut that does it) and that if you don't water your plants every week, they will die a quick, unnecessary death. However, never use the phrase "It couldn't have been that bad" in this interaction, unless you have an aversion to keeping your limbs.

OHBWs are similar to kittens and babies — they are in a very diminished mental state, and so are amused by simple things. Why not take a few seconds to play with them? Wave your shiny keys in front them, try peek-a-boo or pretend you're going to give them the answers to that week's problem set (draw the line at any variation of "keep away" — that's just cruel). Help them out in whatever way you can. Everyone becomes an OHBW at some point in his Princeton career — might as well stick to the Golden Rule. This means you, Beard-o. Jen Adams is a psychology major from Ogdensburg, N.Y. She can be reached at jladams@princeton.edu.