I barely feel like term has started, but somehow both academics and extracurriculars are already exploding into a flurry of my signature calendar notifications. Whilst I try to clear up the mess it's left in my room and try to ignore the week I missed writing this diary, somehow I've managed to plan, write, edit, and submit two essays. How? I honestly couldn't say.
I still refuse to believe it's vacation week next week. One thing I welcome with open arms, however, is the fact that it's almost spring! I can finally study outside, sitting among the crocuses with my books wearing one of my many Vinted purchases as if I'm in a strange version of Anne With an E that has both Scottish accents and academic stress.
Even if my primary readings are romanticisable, the secondary readings are the ones that send me back into the middle of the seasonal-depression-ridden pit of desk lamps, Notion, and terrible nutrition. I can't decide if essay reading are meant to be harder than tutorial readings, but I think the fact I have to schedule in time to prepare myself to actually do the work speaks volumes.
Nothing has made me feel so stupid before as university readings. I swear sometimes I'm reading different texts to my classmates from the polar opposite conclusions we draw. I take my creativity as a superpower, but in a class environment where you have to be devoid of individual opinion it can be a challenge at best. I've studied up on the ability to waffle, though, to the point where I've surprised even myself with the things that come out the educated brain of the diligent student I see in the mirror.
I had better get a decent mark with the amount of time I’ve put into office hours, editing, and research on how to actually write a decent essay. My tablet storage is screaming at me to delete the amount of documents and essay matrices I rely on as if they're a heart rate tracker. If that was true, my grades would quite literally be a cardiogram with how volatile they are.
I try to distract myself with societies. It doesn't work. I pride myself on being good at time management, but this usually means I'll mess up my lyrics in choir or trip over my own feet at tennis from thinking about the 20 things I have to do over the next 56 minutes exactly.
Having a job and a social life makes things harder too, of course. And that's without even considering that I actually have classes to go to. I love them, but sometimes it can get unreasonable. Professor, explain to me how you want me to manage reading 20 poems in less than 24 hours with an essay due on Friday and two performances the same week?
By some bizarro-time-machine-magic-potion-wormhole I am almost through deadline season whilst still mentally being in refreshers week. The amount of work I put into deadline season is extraordinary (in the sense that it consumed my life without any actual work being done), so if I don't do well on these essays I think I will actually flip out.
I see everyone around me losing their minds almost the same amount as me, though, and it makes me feel slightly better for running around chaotically, rain-sodden, protecting the loose sheets that won't fit in my bag. Maybe when I get my grades back it won't be too bad. But for the time being, I am stuck in waiting mode –who needs to actually make a start on the essay due next week anyway?
Comentarios