Finals week starts this Monday so maybe this article is a little premature, but sue me – all my friends have been on summer break for months now. Can you really blame me for trying to hurry the end of the year? One of the biggest things I’ve noticed about college is how the weeks fly by at a ridiculous pace. Monday happens at 9 a.m and by evening it’s Friday. It’s a relief to not have the week drag by but when time rushes by at such an intense pace, it’s kind of hard not to be shocked at how fast the year goes. The friends that are now home for summer break are technically sophomores, and I’m still looking at pictures of us at high school graduation and trying to figure out how all of this year fit itself into the blink of an eye. Freshman year has been massive and yet barely there at all; the only sign that it happened is the billion newly formed ideas, habits, and memories that will make their way into oncoming years.
I’ve gotten accustomed to walking out of my classes at leisure, yet sometimes I remember the fact that just last year I had to ask permission from administration to breathe. College is a weird balance of figuring out how many classes you’re allowed to skip before you start to hate yourself and your life choices, but I’ve learned that I’ll force myself awake at eight just as long as I can go into the world and be regarded as a human being with my own agency. I’ve also, for the most part, learned to force myself awake at 8 a.m after going to sleep at 7:50. High school teaches you that 27 minutes is optimal for a power nap; college teaches you that 27 minutes is all you’re going to get in a 48 hour period.
With that comes the obvious: space out your red bull cans for the 2 a.m crash and the 7 a.m second wind; skim all your readings on the train 20 minutes before class; sleep in lecture halls only (and only in the back). The things you pick up quickly are the things you expected from college like stressful all-nighters and going out, while the things that come a little slower are the things you never expected. The first semester taught me how much fun going out was and the second semester got rid of the FOMO that was constant in October. Freshman year got me into all types of music I never thought I’d get into; ever so often, my friends will pause the music in the car and turn to each other to go “can you believe we’re listening to this?” Our cramming habits haven’t changed, but freshman year has brought the sudden realization that there are some classes where the finals require a solid week of cramming instead of just some review the night before. Freshman year has taught us to bust our asses until the very end, and occasionally you get to see the A- you wanted even though your grade on the first test was a 57.
But even after all the lessons that have been crammed into freshman year, one thing remains a mystery. College is literally a balancing act between death and dying: the stress is paramount and I’ve never slept less in my life. The classes are hard and there isn’t enough space for panicking in the library, and everything feels like it’s in a downward spiral. So I guess the question is: why am I having the time of my life?