As the spring semester winds down—and the sun starts burning my pasty, white skin—I’m finding myself in an uncomfortably familiar situation.
Last year, as April ensued, I felt unmotivated, sluggish and downright disinterested in anything scholastic. Actually, I was unconcerned with anything but laying on my university’s front lawn, with a drink in my hand and friends at my side.
Now, a second-semester sophomore, I’m seeing a secondary loosening in my strict schedule—and, frighteningly, I’m becoming okay with that notion.
To some, my newfound desire for relaxation over collegiate repetition might seem normal. Unfortunately, though, I stand among a contingent of students who’re driven by rigorous scheduling and endless to-do lists.
I’m constantly focused on what’s next. In class, my mind’s subconsciously split between the day’s lecture and my upcoming meeting with that 80-year-old theology professor. Then, once in my meeting, I’m partially focused on the night’s dinner plans—even if I’m genuinely enjoying every second of Dr. so-and-so’s commentary.
My point is, for 20-somethings like myself, life partially dictated by “wants,” rather than only “needs,” is scary. As tempting as that lifestyle might be, it invites the potential for carelessness into my life and, so, I’ve traditionally avoided it at all costs. Well, until now, that is.
After recently finding out that I’ll be graduating early—I hate to say it, but “early” means next year—I started thinking more realistically about the time I have left at my collegiate home. Similar to most college-aged adults, the thought of life away from dining halls and classrooms—while appealing in its monetary implications—is nothing short of nauseating.
Looking at my long-term collegiate schedule—and the number of “complete” stamps on my degree audit’s “required courses” list—I’ve realized it’s time to start seizing good times, especially while they’re so readily available.
My constant focus on what’s next has expedited the ticking hand on my collegiate clock and, now, I’m catching up on the fun I’ve too often denied myself.
There are frisbees to be thrown and drinks (probably alcoholic ones) to be drank; I have a playlist full of admittedly embarrassing throwbacks to dance to and, more likely than not, an ankle to sprain in the process.
My point: in a world of bosses and uncomfortably tight ties, there’s no time for pure liberation. And I’m not complaining about that. I’m working tirelessly to ensure I’m well-equipped for the professional world—all because I’m confident that, come graduation, I’ll be prepared for a commitment to workplace conformity.
For now, though, I’m still a student. And while I’m apt to catastrophizing my daily to-dos, there’s still a certain level of leniency available in my schedule.
If I miss one assignment, while I dread the thought of it, I’m not going to get fired from my job. A late submission might result in an awkward student-professor conversation but, still, it’s likely it won’t result in my professional suspension.
For forward-thinking students, we constantly find ourselves ending the semester with a sense of urgency. That sense of urgency isn’t just based in our cramming for final examination deadlines; rather, we feel there’s a need to finally enjoy ourselves before our bags are packed and we’re headed home for the summer. After nearly two semesters of stressing, we’re again reminded that it wasn’t always in our mental health’s best interest to take things so seriously.
There’s really only one way to avoid that recurring pattern, though: balance. It’s worth making the time to experience, enjoy and enliven ourselves from the summation of our fall semester to our year’s springtime ending. Of course there’s no excuse for slacking off, but taking time off here and there isn’t a death sentence to our productivity or our pursuit of a degree.
By learning to balance a healthy concoction of self-indulgence, genuine experiences and scholastic accomplishment, we’re able to end that recurring feeling of lacking fulfillment come May.
In essence, wedging pleasure between assignments, and remembering that it’s sometimes okay to value a missed class in the sun over using up one “skip,” is a healthy thing. We’re young and, contrary to our high school instructor’s commentary, the “real world” is still years away. Let’s start seizing the “now.”
Photo courtesy of Liam McGurl