By now, we've all gotten to that point where we've been forced to realize that summer is over. Fall crept up on us quietly, disguising itself with rainy days and confusing us as we made our wardrobe decisions in the morning. We fought it off as long as we could, strapping sandals defiantly to our feet, shivering in class after our bare legs battled one of the many sporadic monsoons. But we can't don our favorite pair of jorts forever. All things eventually come to an end, and with the arrival of fall, we've found ourselves amidst sweaters and scarves, pumpkin spice lattes, sickness and, unfortunately, mountains of work and crippling stress.
The realization hit me this weekend, when I found myself curled up in a germ-ridden ball, eating soup and watching Benny and Joon as I filled my trash can with used tissues. Every now and then my mind would wander and recall the hundreds of pages of reading I still had to do, the papers I still had to write, the bills I still had to pay and the overwhelming desire to be back home waiting tables so I could avoid all of these college problems. Yet I never paused the movie, never got out of bed, never even opened a book. We're college students and this is what we do - procrastinate until the due date hits us over the head. Then after an all-nighter and a C+ paper, we promise ourselves never to do it again. Then, we do it again.
I'm not trying to completely obliterate the cycle of procrastination. It's an art form, when you think about. Procrastination brings people together; it gives us something to talk about, laugh about, cry about and is part of our identity as University students. I do think, however, that there are two kinds of procrastination: the kind which makes you worry and the kind which gets you ready to buckle down and finally get things done. Nestled under my covers and lost in young Johnny Depp's eyes, I couldn't have been more content - or more overwhelmed. The undone work hovered over me, reminding me that even after Sam and Joon iron a bunch of grilled cheese sandwiches and the credits roll, my responsibilities would still be there. And no amount of 90s love stories was going to change that.
Fearing the act of actually opening a book and craving fresh air for my congested nose, I slipped on my sneakers and went for a run. As I heaved past groups of Rugby Roaders, I again found myself running through the list of things I still had to do. Only this time, instead of dreading the tasks ahead of me, I felt energized and ready to take them down. My face was bright red and I was sweating from every pore, but I was a warrior. I would sprint home like a gazelle and destroy my homework like a fearless, cobra-munching honey badger. I would crank out my papers in record time; I would turn the pages of my history textbook faster than the (new?) speed of light; I would log into my online account and pay my electricity bill. I would conquer my stress, once and for all.
As one could guess, the stress did not get served that night. But I did manage to ameliorate it a bit, finishing up some reading and getting to the "brainstorming" stage of paper writing. And though I certainly wasn't ahead of the game in any respect, I hadn't fallen more behind, either. And I think right now that's all we can ask for - to keep ourselves from digging our own academic graves and think of procrastination as an opportunity to rally ourselves into getting down to business. By no means is this beneficial procrastination limited strictly to spouts of athleticism, either; my roommates and I frequently hold short dance parties in the hallway, blasting Gloria Gaynor's "I Will Survive" and disco-ing our way to success. The truth is, we can't stop the stress from coming, but we can chisel away at it with spurts of energy and shared attempts to keep from getting too serious. So embrace your new wool wardrobe and welcome the middle of the semester with the hearty proclamation that though you may not dish out a roundhouse kick to the face, you will certainly survive.
Chelsea's column runs biweekly Wednesdays. She can be reached at c.spata@cavalierdaily.com.
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