fist pumps for positivity

One week. Two tests, an essay and a project. Four different classes. A 12-hour sorority retreat (consuming my Saturday, of all days). Do you know of what this recipe is in dire need? Positivity Week.

You heard me, self-proclaimed Positivity Week. What does this mean, exactly? Well, I'll tell you. Every time something looks grim, I start feeling stressed, overwhelmed, discouraged, etc. positivity week is there, requiring a glass-half-full mentality. Last Sunday, as I brainstormed my week of optimism, I began to like the idea so much that I decided to recruit my friends. Although their participation was a mix of mumbling, eye-rolling and sarcastic "I'm positive I hate Positivity Week" comments, they got over it and succumbed to forced cheeriness.

Forgot your book for Religion? No worries. You're neighbor was happy to share. The frozen yogurt machine is out of chocolate? Forget about it. That bag of peanut M & Ms was calling your name anyway. It starts a torrential downpour (in Southern California of all places) and you splash a puddle in your Uggs? You're over it. They were needing a good cleaning.

Moral of the story is not that being positive makes everything better or easier in any sense. It doesn't change the fact that you missed the lecture outline because you couldn't read over your neighbor's shoulder. It doesn't change the fact that you didn't get your chocolately-calcium for the day and it doesn't change the fact that your feet now look like raisons from being water-logged. It does, however, allow us to see life's curveballs through a different lens, a clearer lens.

So who's up for Positivity Semester?