Finals: Fears and Farce

| January 9, 2013 | 1 Comment

Fears: Written December 4th, a week before my final projects were due.

We’re all 9 in the face of adversity.

I am, much like a middle-aged woman, older than I would like to be. 19 is fine and all, I suppose. I feel 19, whatever that means. It’s being a junior that worries me.

This is just my 2nd year at BU. Thanks to AP tests, I have 44 more credits than I’m scheduled to, enough for junior standing. I finished all my COM pre-requisites last year. When I tell people this, they tell me how amazing and great that is, and I always say “yeah…” but I don’t really mean it. Yes, it is nice knowing that I can save my parents some money by graduating a year early. One year’s less guilt on my conscience. BU isn’t cheap, after all (hi, Mom and Dad!). But in the back of my mind, a voice occasionally whispers: you’re not ready for this. 

That whisper is terrifying. No wonder they always have whispering children in horror movie commercials. The thought that there’s potentially only a year and a half before I graduate and move on to the real world is daunting. As a junior taking junior level courses, people expect me to have my proverbial shit together. I do not. I don’t own a suit, I only created my resume in the past few weeks because of a class assignment. My work sometimes overwhelms me. Like right about now; I have 22 pages worth of final papers to write in the next week. Why am I typing this?

A part of me wonders if there’s a problem with foisting the responsibility of setting life’s course upon 19 and 20 year olds. 19 and 20 year olds are stupid. However, it’s certainly better than sending kids to farms and factories at age 13. There is no time period to date when I would have had less responsibility by this point in life. Society’s weight didn’t buckle the knees of overstressed youth then; why should it now? So maybe it’s just me. Perhaps I’m the only one who feels like he’s drowning. As my 9th grade gym class can attest, I can’t swim.

Farce: Written two weeks later, after my papers, projects and exams.

The blur was unintentional until I saw how nice it looked.

I don’t know what I was so worried about. That was easy. Cakesauce. There was no drowning involved, no perfectionism required. And now 4 weeks to sit about with no work to do? That’s not an impossible task. I’m ready and capable of handling that. This life stuff is easy when you’re 19.

Did I forget, when writing the first part of this post, that there’s always corners that can be cut, asses that can be halved? Take it from me, folks: anything difficult in life can be made easier by just lowering the bar you set for yourself. You can procrastinate and still finish your work without losing much sleep! If you avoid tweeting about it, no one will ever have to know that you broke a sweat to complete your assignments! 30 minutes is more than enough time to spend studying for finals!

Please don’t take any of that advice. My seeming apathy is not to be emulated. When you’re smart, you never learn how to work hard for your academics.

Talk to me again in May (though in a perfect world, you’d talk to me in every month between now and then). I’ll probably do the same things next semester.

 

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Category: Campus Culture, featured

Ryan Brister

About the Author ()

Ryan is studying journalism in the college of communication. He hails from Rochester, New York, and is slowly growing tired of explaining that it's really quite far from NYC. He watches far too much sports and likes to think of his life as a really long (and occasionally boring) book. His guilty pleasures include most of the music from the 1980s and every movie Sylvester Stallone ever starred in.

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  1. lcmiller says:

    This makes me want to laugh and cry for students everywhere.

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