I was originally going to create a vlog this week, but after much consideration, I decided against it because I felt as though I wouldn't have a lot of time. I also felt as though my vlog would not be as interesting to watch as I really don't do all that much. So instead, I am choosing to write about how my Saturday normally goes.

My Saturday is normally not relaxing at all. I don't have the luxury of having a day off due to the overload of work I have and the constant reminder that I have to write an article every Saturday by 9:30 p.m. This Saturday was exactly like that. I woke up around 10. My boyfriend sat at his desk playing video games, and I began to panic at how I only wrote a paragraph for a three page paper due Monday and how I hadn't started my research paper due the 22nd and then how my documentary film is only a minute and forty-five seconds long and how I regret choosing that topic and blah blah blah.

If this sounds like something you have also dealt with, then you know then what comes next. It's called tears and they bring along a mother of a headache to help you not be able to focus on the work at hand. Your boyfriend then gets up from his desk and sits with you and tries to talk you through everything, even though he has no idea how to actually talk you through it and he says that he has no idea what to do. So you get quiet and think about how simple it would be to throw your Macbook right out your boyfriend's sixth-floor window. But then you remember how much it costs to have this Macbook, and you really can't handle going through college without a computer.

Then you suddenly get a wonderful idea and you start working, but that self-doubt creeps right back in and you realize it's actually trash and you scrap the entire script you just wrote for your film. So you decide to take a break from looking at all your horribly written work and decide to go on Facebook, where you see you have a message from your mom. It reads "good morning," but all you can think about is how you can't tell her how stressed out you are because she can't help. So instead, you watch a video someone posted that ended up in your news feed and you decide to start working again.

Then you realize as you begin to finish your article for the Odyssey that you haven't showered yet and it's almost 12:30 a.m. You want food, but you can't go out into the world with your hair sticking up and your breath smelling like Goldfish and sour cream and onion chips. Then you start to get mad at yourself again, but you realize you only have a few more words to write and if you finish that (and maybe find a hat) then you can go eat.

This is my average Saturday. It is always like this. Always filled with the same conversations and same bursts of panic. But in the end, I get my work done even if I hate every final piece I ever write or make. I still get it done.

So what's your excuse for not doing anything today?