I don't know why my roommate doesn't bring me little glasses of orange juice, bowls of chicken soup and boxes of Kleenex. Surely she knows I'm sick; I've complained about it pretty constantly for the past week.
I don't do it in hopes of easing my discomfort or curing my cold. In fact, such excessive complaining may even worsen my condition since it's pretty difficult to keep up the same complaint for so many days. To be really effective, complaints have to be creative and original, which takes a lot of work.
See, complaining is not just meaningless blabber spoken and written to annoy others and filled with lies. Consequently, true complaining is also not an effective method for expressing real opinions and concerns.
Complaining, in its purest approach, is an art form.
I have been an amateur complainer for some time now, my career peaking at being voted "biggest complainer" of my high school class, but I am still always looking to improve.
First, I learned to perfect the necessary syllable increase. For example, the commonly used "Mom" must be stretched to at least two syllables, and possibly even three. This technique really sets the tone for a good complaint.
Next, all complainers must develop a somewhat nasal tone to their voices, again improving the expression and style of each complaint. This can be difficult for some, but I was blessed with living in Wisconsin, an area of the country that naturally fosters a rather nasally accent.
Once the correct style has been mastered, creativity and originality become most important to successful complaints. I have found that paying attention to small, obscure details rather than over-used generalities helps in good technique.
Most importantly, however, complainers at all levels must incorporate excessive exaggeration and ridiculous comparisons into their art. Several days ago, I went to the bathroom to find the custodian had just cleaned it, leaving the floor wet and the lights off.
Though I obviously appreciated the act, I used this as complaining practice when I returned to my room. "Even if I had wanted to, I couldn't have gone to the bathroom without shoes on," I told my roommate. "It's like a swamp in there. I probably should have worn boots with the three feet of water splashing around the toilets."
This was certainly not one of my best complaints, but I think I effectively used detail, exaggeration and ridiculous comparison. Like in poetry, descriptive language like "splashing" also really augments the complaints.
One of the greatest feats for a training complainer must be the extended complaint. In this event, one subject must be chosen and focused on for at least a few weeks. Difficulties and judging categories include: originality (ability to keep coming up with new angles), patheticness (ability to effectively portray utter devastation due to whatever is causing the complaints) and endurance (ability to keep a steady rate of complaining for as long as possible).
My most recent venture has been the heat in my dorm. Though accused of having some kind of circulatory disorder, I chose to blame my constant state of being freezing on a lack of heat in my dorm room.
For at least three weeks, I subjected everyone around me to frequent comments about my health and my living situation. Many have had to touch my icy hand for added impact, and have had to watch me live in a hooded sweatshirt -- hood on, for warmth.
This was done not to annoy them and not necessarily to find a solution to the problem; rather, it was done in celebration of the art of complaining.
Bothering my UGA and roommate, I requested more heat and shivered whenever a window opened. Finally, a maintenance man came over one afternoon to fix the problem. After sending in orders to headquarters over the walkie-talkie, he inspected the radiators, possibly expecting to find a huge, mysterious problem.
Almost immediately, he stood back. "Okay," he said as we heard the pipes begin to clang. "It's working. You know you have thermostats on the wall, right? And when you turn them, the heat goes on." He proceeded to give us a 20-minute explanation of how such a contraption works, only making us feel like even bigger idiots.
Of course, the heat is still not really warm enough, allowing for some complaints every once in a while. But the whole situation allowed for some beautiful art to be created.
So I hope one day the people in our society can judge complainers not as hurtful and ignorant whiners or as opinionated do-gooders, but as artists (and the occasional idiot who can't use a thermostat).
