That ‘little voice’ knows, but no one ever listens

TV private investigator Thomas Magnum, so elegantly portrayed by housewife heartthrob Tom Selleck, often speaks of a “little voice” that warns him trouble is imminent or that he is doing the wrong thing. I too have a little voice. Its main job is to warn me that I am running on empty and that I’d better slow down or else pay the consequences. Unfortunately, it is a little voice that I often ignore.

Take last Friday night for example. While sitting in my little broom closet of a room, I debated the prospects of sitting at home and watching Miami Vice or going out with friends and having some real fun. I was extremely tired and that made the choice all the more difficult. The tiny voice inside me warned that I had a meeting to go to Saturday morning and insisted that I stay home and write letters to my friends at U of I. The caffeine loaded alter ego, sitting on my other shoulder, called me a wimp and reminded me that those friends were probably too drunk to read anyway.

Like a fool, I ignored my own common sense and walked five blocks in the cold wind and rain to a movie I had already seen before. The next day, aches, chills and irritability replaced my normally pleasant persona as I grudgingly informed people that I just wanted to be left alone to suffer.

Yet I can blame no one but myself for my predicament. Like most college students, my hectic lifestyle often prevents any concessions to be made in the name of general health. Rather than get caught up on required rest or eat foods that are nutritious and healthy, I foolishly push myself to the point of near collapse while existing on cold pizza for days at a time.

Everybody, whether they know it or not, has a “little voice” which usually pops up during decisions about choosing fun over boredom. However, based on the large number of people I see hung over, coughing, wheezing and slumping over coffee at lunch, I can only assume that most of them ignored their little voices too. Let’s face it, the main concept of the general college lifestyle is PARTY ‘TILL YOU DROP. After seeing the hordes of refugees slouched in the cafeteria for Sunday’s lunch it is easy to see that many people, including myself, do.

One of the chief concerns my parents had when they sent me to this place was how I would take care of myself. When talking to my father on the phone I can’t help but snicker when he says “Do you eat right?” or “Do you get enough rest?” I’d like to answer yes to these questions but it’s really hard to assure your parents you’re all right when you’re reeling from an all nighter. My common excuse for being a wreck when they visit is that I got no sleep because my neighbors kept me awake by blasting their stereo. I usually forget to mention that I was in their room singing along.

egardless of my many excuses for not taking better care of myself, I, like many people I know, am in for serious trouble if I allow myself to continue. Catching a cold every two weeks should be warning enough that I don’t get adequate ret or eat right. The fact that aspirin and potato chips are the staples of my diet is downright frightening when you come to think of it.

My problem, I guess, is that I don’t allow enough time to recover from some of my escapades. I’ll go out and party but then I’ll pick up the next day like nothing happened. It’s no wonder that some days I feel as if I’ve been run over by a Huskie Bus.

A friend of mine who is a nursing major once told me that a person is like a machine. She said we need to keep maintaining ourselves or we greatly increase the risk of illness and/or serious injury. Instead of heeding her advice, I usually come up with some lame excuse such as “I’ll sleep in late tomorrow,” or “I’ll stay home all next weekend.”

When I left for college I can remember my mother telling me the same basic things as the nursing major and my little voice. Naturally, I didn’t listen to her either.