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I feel the responsibility to inform you that upon seeing a singular play this weekend, I have decided that I am now serious, and I am no longer going to be funny.

I know, I know. This must be very sad for you. I’m sure reading my hilarious jokes must be the highlight of your week, but from now on, I will only discuss serious, academic and artistic topics in my column. Some of these topics will include theater, books and Letterboxd.

You may be asking, “Sarah, how have you been committing to this new, serious lifestyle?” This past week, I’ve been participating in various scholarly activities.

For example, I snuck into a College of Visual and Performing Arts film class. They noticed, and kicked me out pretty quickly after I raised my hand and asked the professor if she’d ever met Adam Sandler, but that was pretty obviously out of intimidation.

I’ve also started to partake in the art of beret and turtleneck wearing. I think it looks quite chic if you ask me, especially with all of the books I’ve been carrying around.

Usually, I like to read novels, but I am happy to report that I’ve only been reading vintage surrealist novels that only have 500 reviews or less on Goodreads and are from the perspective of birds. Am I really confused while reading them? Yes. Do I miss my usual books about hot guys and unexpected romance? Maybe.

Poetry slams are also my new passion — I love to snap so much. I also like to boo. I really, really love to boo people. What can I say? I’m honest. If you’re up there doing a metaphor about the seasons, get out of my face, you cliché pig.

Although, one girl did a poem about a kitten at the last slam I went to. I liked that one. No matter how serious I am, kittens will always be my weakness.

Last but not least, I made sure to argue a lot, because that’s what serious people do. They argue over serious things. I asked my friend what she thought about vaccines. No matter what she said, I made sure to disagree with her.

Next, I asked my boyfriend who his favorite movie director is. He said Christopher Nolan (and yes, you guessed it, he’s a white man). In response, I said, “Well, I think his work is quite derivative.”

This is a big thing with serious people. Derivativeness. Everything is derivative to me now. Books, TV shows, clothes, street signs, public restrooms.

Oh no. I’ve just made a terrible revelation.

Is this column … derivative? Are my attempts to be serious … just derivative of actual serious people I know? This is my worst nightmare.

Unfortunately, I am not going to attempt to be serious anymore, because I’d rather be silly and stupid than smart and *shudders*… derivative.

Published on April 17, 2024 at 10:35 pm

Contact Sarah: sswells@syr.edu