Before I arrived at college for the first time, I told myself I would try new things. I meant this not in the way of, "Oh hey, I've never skydived before, let me try that," but more of a, "I'm going to push myself and try things I might not be able to do later." One of the new things I wanted to do was to grow out my hair, something I hadn't really done except for the few times I missed a haircut. I hadn't really ever liked it when I got it freshly cut instead preferring it at the middle stage between shaggy and short. So coming into college, I told myself this would be my chance to grow it out and decide if I liked it at all. This isn't exactly a hard thing. It just means I don't get a haircut. In fact, I even save a little money by not getting it chopped off once a year. This has turned out to be a pretty good decision so far, as I like it, and my friends like it as well, despite the new challenges it brings.
I, of course, expected my newly grown out hair to require more care, but what I've found is an entire world I had been unaware of. I found myself trying to learn better ways to wash and dry my hair, how to brush it and make it look nice. I had no idea that I would go through several hair bands in my effort to keep my hair out of my face, or that I would be timing how long I let it sit after a shower. As a guy, I felt a little behind compared to many girls' lifetime experiences and tactics, so I asked them for help. It seems I'm trying a new technique or idea I come up with every time I shower, in some ways it's fun to experiment, but I usually end up wishing I didn't have to. Adapting to my new level of personal responsibility helped me open my mind to more outside responsibility as well.
This physical change sparked a mental change that was wholly unintended. As I became more confident in my techniques, I also became more confident in social situations. Thinking you look good (even if you don't) boosts your self-esteem and can actually help you perform better in many areas. It seemed as though I was changing in many ways, and not just because of my hair. I try to recall what things were like, how I felt, who I was, even just a month ago and I can't. Since I arrived at college I entered an enigmatic dimension of constant change, and it's equally exciting and scary. Who I am today isn't who I will be in 10 years, it's not who I will be next month, it's not even who I will be tomorrow.
When things change so quickly, I try to let it go sometimes. The only thing I can hope to do is focus on my studies and strive for self-actualization, but these things seem harder as time goes on. The fatigue of change is enhanced by the stress of tired monotony in the weeks. Every Monday night, I rush to finish my math and science projects, eventually collapsing in the early a.m. From there, my next assignments aren't due till Thursday, but I often put them off despite my ability to complete them. Is this my ADD? Is this my depression? It feels too easy to blame it on those, and so I conclude I am just lazy, and I'm frustrated with myself for it. The change isn't happening where I want, and so I decline downwards hoping the school year ends before I crash.
Despite all this, I push forward — it is the only thing I can really do, after all. With days of defeat come dreams of success and so I count my victories and hope they outnumber the daily failures. If I can't do what I have to, I do what I want to save myself from my mindless procrastination activities. Something to justify my lack of progress. Look forward to the day you realize what you've been missing and place it in your life to mend what ails you. One day, I won't be worrying about homework because I won't have any, until that point, though, my biggest problems are relatively small.
