We had already exchanged self-pitying looks when we first heard the birds outside, serving as tiny and melodious yet alarming indications of our sleep deprivation. With no assignments due immediately the next day, I could have stopped trying to get ahead on my essays due later that week. And yet, I did not stop working.
I must admit that on this night, I felt somewhat triumphant for staying up just a bit later than my friend, whose unshakable academic dedication and ability to function on barely any sleep is a source of admiration not just to me but to many others who know her. Why did I feel like this? Did I take pride in the fact that my eyes had glazed over, or in the brightening shades of blue that slowly illuminated the sky outside?
In his article “The bubble within the Bubble,” Bennett McIntosh aptly summarizes this phenomenon: “Often complaints within a group aren’t acknowledgement of struggling so much as a sort of masochistic-one-upmanship. How many times have you had the conversation: ‘Oh, your weekend sounds busy — but listen to what I have to do!’?”
I am certain that I am not the only one to have publicly lamented my struggle to balance seven extracurricular activities with a difficult course load. I have found that Princeton students generally tend to converse with one another in terms of how much work they have to do: Problem sets, quizzes, midterms, writing sem essays and other assignments take the dialogical center stage while practices, rehearsals, games and extracurricular commitments appear as supporting actors.
My theory aligns with my fellow columnist’s view and has prompted me to further reflect on why we behave this way: We enjoy this banter. We relish in talking about how busy we are, how many meetings we have to attend, how little sleep we got last night. Think about how easy it is to relate to another student who spent six hours on that horrendous problem set. Now think about how you’d react to someone who told you to “suck it up and stop complaining” because “after all, we’re all super busy here and you’ll make it through eventually.”
Talking about our academic tumult is not only inherently a stress reliever, but it also gives us a sense of pride and accomplishment. When we are able to adroitly juggle these academic, extracurricular and social challenges and emerge (mostly) unscathed, we are weary from the battle — but triumphant nonetheless. After all, many of us exhibited similar habits in high school, running from event to event but loving the feeling of breathlessness, the adrenaline of making it to commitment number five of the day in the nick of time. There is no explanation for why that would change upon our arrival at Princeton, jumping into a pool of people who are just as passionate (if not more) about just as large a variety of interests. And who’s to stop a little healthy competition regarding who is more passionate than the other?
On a broader level, this appreciation for being busy connects back to the American Dream. In a nation that prides itself on climbing ladders and attaining goals through fair and righteous processes (think “giving credit where credit is due”), it seems that the characteristics of being hardworking and dedicated have established themselves on the universal moral high ground somewhere along the way. Furthermore, many of us have grown up with the saying that “hard work pays off,” so rather than talking about how much we’re relaxing, we like to show others our overworked and exhausted side — the side of us that merits success, whether this is in the form of good grades, a good job, a leadership position or whatever success means to you.
My goal here is not to call out the complainers, but rather to acknowledge that we must confess to savoring the strife at least a little bit. There is nothing wrong with talking about how much work you have. It’s rather normal and therapeutic to share your struggles and strife with others — whether it’s about your thesis, your thermo problem set or your inability to find books in Firestone. Although I should throw in the obvious disclaimer that complaining all the time may earn you the unfavorable title of Negative Nancy or a humblebragger (read: depressing to be around), it’s important to note that we’re all here to support and motivate each other to take on even more challenges and drive ourselves a little more crazy.
Prianka Misra is a freshman from Castro Valley, Calif. She can be reached at pmisra@princeton.edu.
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