Shameless, Passionless

This weekend while everyone else studied, worked and accomplished other productive things, I spent hours lying in bed watching my new favorite television show: Shameless.  It's based on a British television show from 2004 that's all about a raging alcoholic of a father who somehow managed to keep his six children alive long enough to raise themselves.  Eldest sister and pseudo-mother, Fiona, runs the show at the age of twenty-one, followed by hottie mcsmartypants seventeen year old brother, Lip (short for Philip), not-so-in-the-closet sixteen year old Ian, way too old for her age ten year old Debbie, creepy and quasi-arsonist eight year old Carl and little somehow black baby Liam.

In other words, it's fantastic.

And though at times the show really flirts with the line between dark comedy and utterly depressing, what's truly upsetting is that in a very strange way, the show has forced me to realize something relatively upsetting (though rather unrelated to the show) about my own life.

I have no passion.

I'm not necessarily referring the kind of passion that you share with another person (though there's none of that in my life at the current moment either) but rather just passion in general.

I used to be passionate about everything; from politics to the environment to the Yankees' triumph over the Red Sox, I cared almost too much.  I was permanently banned from family political conversations because I took it too personally.  I'd walk away from my conservative relatives in tears, wondering how in the world the father I admired so much could possibly care so little about something so important.  I was head over heels, classic 80's movie style in love with my (now ex)boyfriend.  Most of the time I couldn't decide if I loved him or hated him but I always ached for him with passionate fury.  I was eighteen and was willing to fight to a passionate and bloody death if I had to.



But four years later, I'm exhausted.  I follow politics but I'm no longer surprised when politicians deceive; I expect it.  I care about the environment, but I'm too broke to buy local.  I'll always love my Yankees, but I don't have the time or money to go to games anymore and I'm sick of arguing with Red Sox fans.

College has made me numb.

I'm overworked and underpaid.  I'm too tired to fight the man.  I'm too tired to argue.  And I'm only twenty-one!  Where has my passion gone?

And love?  Does it even exist in college?  Everyone I know who's single is only interested in one thing and I don't think it's love.  And then there's everyone I know who's in a relationship; they seem more interested in the stability and constant attention than mad, crazy, passionate love.  You know that annoying quote all over Tumblr and Twitter and every other social network available:
"Unless it's mad, passionate, extraordinary love, it's a waste of time.  There are too many mediocre things in life, love should not be one of them."
As much as I'm sick of seeing this quote on people's facebook statuses, I kind of believe that there's a lot of truth behind it.

But the only mad, crazy, passionate love I ever see are those in television shows, like Fiona and Steve's in Shameless.  Maybe I shouldn't strive for the kind of fucked up relationship that they have in the show, after all, it's a television show, but I'd just like to feel some kind of burning passion for something in my life.

That kind of fire and fight, that's the kind of passion I need back in my life.  And I don't care if it comes from meeting a guy who makes me weak in the knees or just somehow rediscovering my will power to get up in the morning and care, I just need to rediscover the energy to give a shit.

I don't know if college has killed my passion or if I just let it fizzle out; either way, I need to get it back.