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The Tragedy of Week One

There's just something about the first week of a semester that just doesn't add up.

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The Tragedy of Week One
Mark T. Hardy II

You know, guys, there's just something about the first week back at school after the break that just doesn't ever seem to work for people. I mean, here you are at the end of a fantastic winter break, having given a tearful farewell to your family, your TV, gaming consoles and dignity, and the stress levels have already been turned to their maximum level!

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You have to go back to waking up early each morning in order to get to classes on time, you get to meet with your new professors, new people, and you start to realize that maybe this half of the semester will be far less stressful than the first.

Then you read your syllabus and see just how screwed you are.

The first thing you notice is that you're still missing several books because they never appeared on the list that your own school provided, which only makes things worse because the longer you look at your syllabus, the more assignments there are that keep showing up for the first week. You have an essay due by the end of the week in one class, an unbelievable amount of reading for another in preparation for an in-class quiz, a group project that you already hate because it means you have to work with other people and you hate other people, and finally, as if your workload couldn't get any more stressful, your stupid butt decided to take on a play on top of all that.

The first thing you want to do is cry, but you choose to monologue to yourself in the mirror instead, because according to your high school theatre director, that helps with EVERYTHING! You tell yourself that you won't let these classes and other commitments get the better of you, that you'll still make time for friends, your crush, and other pastimes that you want to take care of. Something about your speech, clunky and weird as it was, gets you motivated, and for the first time since you came back, you start to feel confident about your new schedule and convinced that it won't be as bad as you initially thought it would be.

The next day completely kills this, as it's a whole new set of classes that you didn't plan for. But they're gen-eds, so you aren't too worried about them just yet. Then you go to them and realize two of your professors are complete nutcases that very easily could have killed someone and masterfully disposed of their bodies, but you don't want to say anything about their tactics for handling the class because you're so afraid that you might be their next victim if you're not careful. However, because of your blind fear, you don't realize until you've fled from the class as soon as you were dismissed, that you've been assigned even more work than the day before. You then proceed to crawl into a corner and cry your eyes out because not only have you not done the work from the day before, it's due the next day and you just got out of a night class. You prepare yourself for a disgustingly brutal all-nighter, but for whatever reason, you decide to actually make time for food before going into full on work mode. You go a little overboard, though, and end up eating way too much to the point where you're way too tired to tackle the homework that's due. As a result, you decide to take a short nap on the couch and then promise yourself that you'll get to the homework as soon as you wake up. As an extra precaution, because you know yourself so well, you set an alarm so you don't end up sleeping too late. You close your eyes and gradually let yourself fall asleep.

Your eyes shoot open and the first thing they fall upon is the clock. Fear creeps into your heart as you notice that you not only slept through your alarm, but there's only fifty minutes before you have to head to your next class.You glance up at the ceiling and let out a small, defeated whimper. Not only will this day be your busiest with four classes, it's also the first day of play rehearsal, meaning that you won't be seeing the outside of a classroom until, at least, 10:30 at night. You start to wonder if it's still possible to drop some of your classes, but realize that the only ones you'd be willing to drop are the gen-eds, and you need those in order to graduate, so you're stuck.

You stare blankly at the clock, as your fifty minutes of freedom rapidly pass you by and actually begin to wonder if college is even worth it anymore. All it's done to you so far is give you stress beyond belief, a full patch of gray hair and an eating disorder. But for whatever reason, you decide that you still need to fight for your dream and press on in spite of all the odds that are against you. You know it's basically a suicide mission, but you don't really seem to care all that much. In fact, the thought actually brings a smile to your face. After all, one way or another, whether you die from these classes, or make it through them, you'll still be set free by the weekend.

Your stomach starts to howl, tearing you from your current ultimatum and you realize that you haven't eaten a thing since your first day back. You go to the refrigerator, anticipation of food rising, but when you open it, you see that it's empty. You bang your head against the wall after this discovery, because now it means, you have to go most of the day without eating again, and you don't know how you'll be able to focus, or control the incessant howls that your stomach constantly produce. But, you can't be late, so you decide to just suck it up for now. But as you exit your dorm and head to your class, a realization hits you harder than a crate full of bricks traveling at maximum velocity.

You still have fourteen more weeks like this.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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