We value logic in this world. Sound reasoning, sanity, rationality, objectivity, balance, coherence and common sense are all things we look for in other people as signs of success, stability, and generally just normalcy.
It seems pretty obvious as to why these are good attributes or so you may think. Indeed, the abilities to think clearly, argue logically, and act sanely can do a lot for a person. Really rational people often do well in school; they succeed in business and have happy lives. But I wonder if their lives are kind of boring, too.
Even Sren Kierkegaard, well-respected and intimidatingly named philosopher, agreed that reason can't bring us everything; it can't solve the mysteries it sets out to uncover. Constant rationality can't bring us fun conversations or happiness.
"The more objective the observer becomes," Kierkegaard wrote, "the less he builds an eternal happiness." And there it is, friends: our strong belief in reason is clearly what causes the melancholy sorrow of life.
So the answer, supported by this brilliant hero (who I irrationally consider myself worthy of quoting just because his middle name is Aabye, much like my name, Abbye), is to embrace irrationality as an attitude fit for kings and queens, and maybe even gods.
Irrationality is wonderful. So wonderful, in fact, that some of the most irrational members of the Dartmouth community have taken it upon themselves to form a group dedicated solely to the celebration of irrationality.
We call ourselves the Irrational Concerns Committee, and hope to one day (soon) gain official college recognition and access to a BlitzMail Bulletin in order to communicate our tales of irrationality to all.
Still not quite mainstream, a group devoted to irrationality will certainly face some opposition " especially from those clear-thinking, stable people in the world. We are often viewed as outcasts, seen as those people who get stressed out for no reason and who center their lives on implausible plans for the future.
And thus, we, the members of the Irrational Concerns Committee, take time out of our lives to share tales of emotional torment. We provide each other with comfort, support, advice and humor.
It helps. It helps to know that there are many others out there whose inner lives border on insanity and whose outer lives often appear to be in complete disorder.
Doesn't it relieve you closet sufferers of irrationality to know that there are so many of us who understand? And the best part is that we actively want to listen to your concerns, your fears, and your irrational worries.
We want to hear about how you can't let too many BlitzMail messages clutter your Inbox, or how you are too afraid to even deal with e-mail because it gets more intimidating and crowded with each new message.
We want to know about how you can no longer walk through Silsby to get to Rockefeller because you think you will come down with lung cancer the next day due to the asbestos.
We're interested as to why you still think "Beverly Hills 90210" is the greatest show around.
We will sympathize when you Lysol down your chair before sitting on it, and then re-Lysol just because it might not have been strong enough the first time.
We agree that you're the dumbest person in all of your classes, because, of course, we are the dumbest people in all of ours.
We too worry that we will never succeed in life, that we will be lonely, poor and bored forever. But we may think we're the only ones; we may irrationally think that you'll be the one who makes it. Our reactions really have no basis in reality.
We want to know about your fears for New Year's Eve and the supposed "Y2K" catastrophe. Even more, we want to hear about your inner debate over whether 2000 or 2001 is the beginning of the new Millennium.
We even want to hear your opinions regarding the Trustee Initiative and how it will either end the world or save the world.
We, the Irrational Concerns Committee, want you to join us in our mission to make irrationality accepted and loved (unless, of course, we irrationally hate you " then we want you to stay really far away from us).
We want you to come eat dinner with us at the hospital (because the dining halls are scary, the hospital has an Au Bon Pain, and there are plenty of doctors in case one of our dormant illnesses suddenly attacks), to discuss our lives. I'm sure it'll be fun; maybe our social coordinator will even set up an activity to memorize Pi, our favorite irrational number.
So if you're interested in joining the struggle, in proudly calling yourself irrational, or if you just want to join the club for no rational reason at all, blitz "Irrational Concerns" (Really, I'm not kidding). Though we don't know you, we're irrationally excited to hear from you and are sure we'll become the best of friends.
