By Colleen Ladd, University of Central Florida
Procrastination may be the best act of inaction that goes on in my college life, behind drinking like a fish and embodying my personal freedom from elders beyond the expected maturity mold and into a shapeless idiot.
Its 8:34 PM on a Monday night in July. I am currently enrolled in two courses. One of which I go to on campus and the other I participate virtually in an online classroom. I just got out of working at the local college bar where I serve the same domestic drafts to the same domestic 45-year-old and up regulars that come in everyday to watch age shattering shows like South Park and Tosh.0 before the college commotion that commences after their scheduled bedtimes. Upon arriving at home, I flipped the TV on to Family Guy, curled up under my charcoal duvet, and immediately embraced miscellaneous internet links in my arms in place of stuffed animals and began the beautiful process known as procrastination.
I tap danced around Facebook from news feed to news feed. I knocked on the door of Twitter only to find a security guard in the form of a big blue whale disappointingly sharing the news that the party is at capacity. I giggled at “giggities” and homosexual innuendos that fled into my ears from my television via Seth MacFarlane. I delved into the newborn NSU articles I insisted to catch up on. I got out my metal detector for music and sifted through sand in the form of blogs. I listened, judged, and either threw one over my shoulder or added one to my iTune bag of treasures and gems.
Among just the few activities I stated above… the most imperative one I should be knee-deep in is studying for my FINAL EXAM.
Despite that my final is at 9:45 AM Tuesday and it is now 9:00 PM Monday, I am not only juggling social media networks, blogs, and Family Guy… I am throwing in an extra ball of writing this unnecessary but extremely necessary article. While I’m tossing these juggling balls in the air, I am at peace. I should be juggling with responsible tasks such as printing out power points of key notes, compacting them into notecards, and then branding them onto my brain like cattle asses on a ranch in Texas.
But the truth is, I work best in high pressure volumes. I back myself into corners of anxiety and bust out through the walls of any exam or deadline for a paper with my mind, body, and spirit intact with a B+ or above reward in the grasped, white-knuckles of my hardworking appendages. And not only do my grades reflect the seriousness of my “study corner,” but it also boosts my confidence to a temporary cloud nine-like state until the next assignment pin points my location, staring me dead in the eyes.
Procrastination, for me, allows pressure to take place as the towering parent over a high school student, booming a voice of demands to finish his homework with the threatening social death sentence of grounding. It has always been an academic friend of mine, with plenty of shoulders to lean on. A valuable and trustworthy anarchist, indeed. And now that I find myself to the closest point possible of my dubbed “study corner,” I can start my nerve-wracking process only to come out on top of the rubble of deadline dry wall and final exam debris.