For many, exams are over. For those unlucky enough to still have exams into the final week of the University’s schedule, I feel your pain… sort of.
Not to anger anyone or anything, but I finished my exams on Tuesday 26th May. Ok, that doesn’t actually portray the truth at all. A truer statement would be: I had my one and only exam on Tuesday 26th May. But all teasing aside, the downside of only having one exam was that when we all returned for the start of this term, I had a total of 3 essays to write within two weeks. One was in for the very first day we returned (27th April) so that didn’t play on my mind too much. However, I then had the joyous task of having to battle against two assignments due on adjacent days (13th and 14th May). Surely you had a super organised system to ensure you weren’t too stressed Brad, I hear you scream. Don’t get me wrong, I worked damn hard, but to ensure everything was complete I had to go to a place I’d never been before. Welcome to my 48 hours in Hell…
Ok, let’s set the record straight – it wasn’t exactly 48 hours in a row, but it was as close as. Also, I must warn people that this contains graphic and off-putting descriptions. Take note, this account may not be 100% accurate as the memory just seems to blur into one.
If you stare at this for 10 seconds without closing your eyes, it still looks like a prison.
So, let’s get some context shall we? I had started both of my essays and a large amount of background research had been undertaken for each essay. I was actually quite proud of how hard I had managed to work when it came to research and setting up the basis of my essays, however there was a lot of work still to do. From tidying up what I already had, to ensuring I made all the points I wanted to; coherently and succinctly. Come early Tuesday (12th May) morning, the task seemed unsurmountable. What was I going to do? Where’s my mummy? Do those online essay writing services actually work?
These are the serious thoughts that I pondered (maybe not the last one), as I managed to scroll down my Facebook newsfeed for the seventh successive time without finding anything new to read. The Tuesday dragged on and I decided it was time for drastic action. So, from the homely climes of my house in Lenton, I took the treacherous trek to the bus stop and hopped onto the 34 at around 10:00pm. This journey only seemed to delay the inevitable pain – I would be heading to Hallward and I didn’t know when I’d be returning. Thankfully, I’d brought a housemate along in the hope that it would make the experience at least a little bit joyful. Into the library we entered and among the hot, scattered bodies of students we managed to find a spot on the very bottom floor, with a strategically placed beanbag to the right of our station. Camp was well and truly set up.
And so began the 48 hour slog. This was going to make me or well and truly break me. On reflection I feel a fair assessment would be that there was a wide variety of emotions experienced during this period across the spectrum of ‘make or break’, rather than a continuous swing from one extreme to the other. Proceedings started well: my housemate was tapping away, I was making progress and it looked as if we’d both be able to head home to recharge the batteries at a respectable time. How wrong I was…
It’s always interesting when people discuss their procrastinating techniques, especially within the restricted setting of a library. Imagine my liberating joy then, when I wandered off to brush my teeth in the toilets as my own example of a unique procrastination method. What a genius though? Killing two birds with one stone by keeping on top of my hygiene and refreshing my mind from my essay. But I couldn’t hide from the truth. Basically, my ultimate enemy of procrastination had finally come to irritate me as the main mob of ‘late-goers’ began to filter out of the library and the hard-core, all-nighters continued to graft.
Oh, it may look all lovely and shiny, but those aren’t lights that you see. Those are the furnaces of Hell warming up for anyone who dares to attempt the overnight ‘Hallward Slog’.
I can’t tell you the trauma one’s mind experiences when you see the sun go down and then are awake long enough to see it rise again. It’s bad enough at home, never mind the flaming library! It’s a shame that I’m only now contemplating the brilliant idea of finding the nearest small mammal and raising it above my head, clambering on top of a table, all whilst the sun is rising in the background. All in ode to my favourite film of all time, of course… can you tell how much this whole experience has mentally scarred me yet?
Moving swiftly on, the morning was quickly escalating to its busy stage and those eager beavers of the university world were beginning to trickle into Hallward on Wednesday 13th May (8am, I couldn’t believe it either). My heart was beginning to beat a little faster knowing my first deadline was only hours away, however I’d made significant progress. There’d been minor torment after this first ‘session’, however I was suddenly overcome by an overwhelming sense of “shit I really need a shower”. So, I took a quick trip home to freshen up and to finish off the final trimmings of Essay Number 1. Back into Hallward I headed at around 2ish, in order to do some final checks and print the bad-boy off! And then – for the first time in my university career – I handed in my essay around 30-60 minutes before the deadline. Phew, one down, one huge slog to go.
The greatest explorers/travellers/adventurers always learn from their previous experiences and the inner Bear Grylls truly sang to me when I decided to begin my second stint armed with a lovely can of deodorant (Lynx Africa of course) and – prepare yourselves – a fresh pair of boxers ready for the next morning. So, from handing in my first essay, I headed straight back to the comforting climes of Hallward.
So that this doesn’t drag on too much, I’ll sum up the second ‘session’ as follows. Essentially it was exactly the same as the first stint: traumatic, mentally draining, yet also filled with a weird sense of euphoria at knowing it was all nearly over. Unfortunately this essay was 1000 words longer (3,500 in total) than the previous one and production levels were at an all-time low as the finishing line was encroaching. Me and a fellow slogger continuously lamented about our struggle as the sun began to rise (my second successive viewing), which only added to the inefficiency. But, after all that time in the library, we all finally agreed it was time to go and hand the buggers in. Second essay due at 3:30pm 14th May, done and dusted.
After such a long period of work, work, work it was certainly time for play, play, play. Me and another fellow slogger joined up with a group of other students from our course (who’d cleverly decided to complete their essays within a sensible timeframe) to celebrate with a few beverages. With such a lack of sleep, energy and anything at all that symbolised life within me, the alcohol hit me like a freight-train. Inevitably, I’d planned to do something that very night and so, drunk as a skunk, I headed off for a social (a meal thankfully). For some reason, however, I just could not concentrate and whilst the other social attenders headed off to fill their stomachs with more poison, I stumbled about the street (sober at this point) in a state of utter exhaustion. People were genuinely worried but I just had to get home to my bed.
What I will say about this whole ordeal is, I finally discovered that the whole ‘sleep’ thing isn’t an urban myth and you do actually need it to function properly. I went to the gates of Hell and was very nearly swallowed up. I definitely won’t be heading there again… well, until my next assignment that is.
Edited by Georgina Varley
Image sources:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/local/nottingham/hi/people_and_places/arts_and_cul…
http://www.nottingham.ac.uk/library/libraries/locations/hallward/hallwar…