And I feel fine.

My boyfriend and I were watching The Big Lebowski this afternoon, and when we turned the DVD player off the TV was turned to the Discovery Channel. A program was on about the different possible ways that the earth could end: robots taking over, a black hole, an ice age, the sun exploding, etc. With each scenario, intelligent-sounding scientists with their credentials on the screen below their faces would discuss and describe, some with a disturbing amount of enthusiasm, the many different ways in which this planet is doomed.

I used to worry about the apocalypse; it was one more item on my heaping list of “issues” worthy of my anxiety. While watching this program, I wondered for a brief second whether I should start worrying again.

I decided that out of all the petty things that consume my worry – my grades, my appearance, other people’s perceptions of me, etc. – that the apocalypse is undoubtedly the pettiest.  I have come to the conclusion that if I were in John Cusack’s  situation in the film 2012, I wouldn’t care at all.

Public speaking? I lose sleep. The possibility terminal illness? I’ve been a hypochondriac MANY times. Receiving a college rejection letter? I get an ulcer. Gaining a couple pounds? Uuuggghhhh…

The end of the world? Screw it. The end of life as we know it is the least of my worries.



Song of the Day:  Tumbling Tumbleweeds – Sons of the Pioneers


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