I’m up late again, thinking of all the things I want and need to do. If you’re curious to see how my brain compartmentalizes things, it happens in bullet points, like so:
I have been lazy for the majority of my summer, and on one hand, I don’t regret it. I took on far too much last semester, and I had resolved to make my vacation between semesters as stress-free as possible.
On the other hand, I’ve been lazy for the majority of the summer. I’ve been waking up as late as five-o’-clock in the afternoon for the past few weeks, and I’ve gone through the same routine. I wake up, eat and/or watch YouTube videos, have dinner with my family, then either get straight back into watching videos or playing an MMORPG. I do sometimes add to the fan fiction I talked about in a previous post, but aside from dates with my boyfriend and errands with my mom, I don’t get out much. That ordinarily wouldn’t bother me, except that now…it does.
I want to take a moment to ponder the enormity of the situation, but more importantly, how it become so enormous to begin with.
Today, social media has mixed reviews. These websites are simultaneously hated and beloved, and we can connect them to each other for maximum share-age. They don’t remain websites, but instead transform into something bigger than ourselves. That’s part of why just a few minutes ago, I deactivated my Facebook account.
I remember when I was finally able to persuade my mom to let me sign up for a Facebook account. The site attracted me because it could give me the ability to stay connected to friends and family members, as well as make new friends. So, it wasn’t the games or the pages that held the allure–it was the desire to form and maintain meaningful connections. So, even though my mom had reservations about how safe it was to be on such a site, she realized the connection potential and gave me permission. I was in high school when I made the account I just deactivated, and despite myself, there is a bit of nostalgia happening.
Huh…sounds like the title of a novel. I’m not sure whether it would be a good novel or not, but I digress.
During every semester before a break, I yearn for said break. I look at everything I have to do for class, look at personal errands beside those tasks, and I count the days until I can be lazy as possible. The things I like to do when lazy during a break sometime manifest most clearly when I procrastinate for one reason or another. I watch YouTube videos, play a bit on my characters in an MMORPG, or browse the Internet mindlessly. When I’m in the thick of coursework and all the stress that comes with it, I wish for nothing more than respite in the form of not having to do anything related to academia.
The break we take for Summer is the shining jewel in the crown of this hope. I don’t just get weeks—I get months. There is suddenly so much time to spend pretty much however I want to spend it, and after all the stress of this last Spring semester in particular, this specific Summer break was something I sorely needed. I dreamed about not having to wake up early to catch a bus to campus for class, and instead being able to wake up whenever to do whatever as I pleased (for the most part). I reasoned that it would be a wonderful way to recover and prepare for my last semester (!!!) of undergraduate studies, and where Spring was hectic, Summer would be swell.
And then…then I remembered why part of me always gets sad around this time.
Once I turned in my only final exam this last Tuesday, my second-to-last semester of university was done.
This was a semester unlike any I’ve had before. There was stress, which wasn’t new, but it was stress that came in different forms. Some of those forms were positive, while others were the usual negative. In any case, I got through it, and in the process I got to experience a number of unique experiences. There were a bunch of firsts that made my family proud, and I did some things I never would have expected to be courageous enough to do—and yet, I did them! This semester also stands out as my last full-time semester, since I just have one more class to take when Fall rolls around. Getting to this point in and of itself has been a journey in the making, something I’ve been wanting since I was a freshman for the first time seven years ago.
Two words keep coming at me: Graduate. School.
There have been a few professors who have mentioned it to me several times because they think I could do well. A provost even suggested that as the next step after the research competition award reception. So many people I started the program with are graduating, and I know some of them are going to attend graduate school.
It seems like a commonsense thought, so why is it the focus of the fourth installment in my Why My Brain Sucks series?
Last week, in the third installment of Why My Brain Sucks, I said there was an upcoming research competition I’d be participating in. Seeing as I contracted food poisoning a couple of days afterward, I haven’t been able to recount the experience in text form until now.
I couldn’t sleep a wink the night before. I think I got less than five hours of sleep, and only from what can be called two glorified naps. Regardless, I woke up at 5:30 AM to get ready for the 7:30 AM bus out of town, dressed all spiffy in a slacks suit. There was another student on the bus sitting in front of me, so we were able to have ridiculous conversation in order to wake ourselves up from being complete zombies. A television show plot combing plants and CSI came up, but we thought it was really awesome at the time. I had originally been planning on taking a nap on the way there, and I think I took a short one just before the bus got to our stop, but I didn’t mind the least. I also value a hearty conversation, no matter how silly (especially when I’m sleepy).