Ours is a world marked by hustle and bustle, and most of you reading this probably occupy the bulk of your day bustling and hustling accordingly. Perhaps you spent this very morning quieting the barbarous tones of your thesis advisor. Maybe this afternoon you successfully fielded several encounters with Mark, each punctuated by a comment that, while certainly insulting to you, was for the most part impressive in its snideness. And it’s surely safe to suggest that, this evening, you will step in squirrel scat. Despite the noise, the emotion, and (worst of all) the stenches that your Monday has had to impart, we here at The Consensus are willing to bet that you will emerge relatively unscathed. You may even find that a peaceful night’s slumber leaves you heedless of today’s events as early as tomorrow morning.
But for some, this is not the case. A select few of our readers can’t just cruise through their lives so lackadaisically, for they simply feel more deeply than the rest. While you’re no doubt frittering away your days effectively managing your emotions, these trepid heroes are absorbing stimuli like sponges via all eighteen of their senses. And you thought there were only five, you poor bastard. You, a callous SOB, will wake up on Tuesday a new man, unaware of the odor of doo doo that still clings to your person, but these damaged goods may never be the same.
There are really no words to describe the deep pain that these prodigies experience on a daily basis. However, Haverford’s top undeclared psych majors, in a valiant attempt to distill the immensity of consciousness by which our emotional lionhearts are beset into a morsel palatable to the puny minds of the masses, have given these paragons of sensitivity the working title of “empath.”
If you are an empath, congratulations. We bow down to you. However, we also understand that you may be a little distraught (or agonizingly distraught, probably) that your gifts preclude you from eating a Nacho Cheese Dorito™ with as much ease as the rest of us. Well, fortunately for you, some of us here at The Consensus are empaths ourselves. And the rest of us will be barred from the office following an appointment with the locksmith on Sunday. Those of us who have navigated the treacherous waters of sensory input, however, understand that even the slightest hint of flavor can overwhelm the delicate mind-palate of the empath, so we’ve compiled a list of bland meals to mitigate your hypersensitivity.
DC Chicken Breast
Look. We get that the numb among you can huff DC main selections like they’re cocaine (i.e. without a second thought), but the more emotionally battle-scarred among the Haverford student body have a little bit of trouble with these famously seasoned options. But God’s most sentimental soldiers need not look any further than the edge of the counter, home to the chicken breast! These bosoms, unlike the tofu scramble or Bang Bang Tilapia—or, god forbid, red quinoa pilaf—are tender. Not like meat, but like a caress. Now that’s what I call dry, unseasoned, and totally subtle!
Keebler™ Club Crackers Dipped in Water
Keebler™ Club Crackers taste kind of like salt and butter. Not to mention they’re crunchy. Yowch! To a non-empath, ever-preoccupied with the barren wasteland that is their own emotionality, this may sound like a more or less unthreatening gastronomic experience. But if you step out of your own fucking shoes for one goddamn second of the day, you just might grasp the terror held within the Keebler™ Club Cracker. Thankfully, a little bit of water to take the edge off helps turn this scary snack into a hardy meal for even the most delicate of flowers.
Napkins
Everyone (and by everyone we just mean empaths because we’re sick and tired of listening to the opinions of anyone else) knows that the blandest of flavors come from the pulp of the tree, although even with our arboretum campus, napkins remain one of the only truly accessible foods of this variety. The flimsiness of these sheets alleviates the fear of papercuts that might arise from eating something firmer, like printer paper. The beauty of napkins not only comes from their wide availability—they’re found pretty much anywhere you could get food—but also in their wide variety of muted colors that make every indulgence feel like a realistic winter wonderland—slush included! And fear not, snowflakes, for if the weird bumps in the napkins seem displeasing to one of your twenty-one senses (new research), a little dip in some lukewarm water should do just the trick.
