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The Tufts Daily
Where you read it first | Wednesday, May 29, 2024

Medford’s Carrie Bradshaw: How to get out of your ‘hater era’

I'll say it — right here, right now — I may be in my “hater era.” I’m talking about the insatiable appetite to observe, judge and critique. The impending dismay that follows an interaction, as simple as an exchange between you and your Postmates courier or perhaps an email that reached your inbox from a professor titled “Some Feedback.”

Nowadays, it's easy to take virtually any word and apply “era” after it to lessen the gravity of an overarching issue that may be catapulting you into a mood or string of behavior. For me, I've been rushed with a wave of 2014 Tumblr-era angst and an affinity for the moody ambiguity of A24 movies. These aspects of my changing perspective have shifted my ability to “keep calm and carry on“ to instead wake up and choose violence (not in a literal sense).

I've told my friends, “Do not perceive me.” You can interpret that meaning for yourself, but for me, it means, “I know I wore this outfit yesterday, and I know whatever I just said made no sense, pay no mind to me, please.”

How can I (or we, if you may find yourself in a similar situation) enter our “self-care, self-love, we live on a floating rock“ era? Is it as simple as some “hopecore” TikTok slideshows or watching videos of shih tzu puppies sitting up straight like humans? Should I just keep listening to “Seigfried” (2016) by Frank Ocean and imagining that a new album may come sooner than the next decade?

What helps me poke my head out of this mindset is to tap into my childlike wonder, as you might call it. Whether that's as simple as doodling on pieces of paper or practicing piano in the basement of Aidekman, passions and hobbies certainly help bounce back a similar joy a five-year-old experiences on a field trip to the science museum.

The bottom line? An era is just that, an era. You can get out of it and change and evolve along the way. Some may call this self-soothing, but I'm sure others may be stuck in this post-winter, pre-finals, “what the heck am I doing?” phase. If all else fails, watching puppies barking and playing piano never hurt a fly.