A Lesson in Procrastination
Essay title: A Lesson in Procrastination
11:09 p.m. -It isn’t any night out of the ordinary. It’s basically the same as every other Sunday night. The parties are all over, all the students are back and I know, most, like myself are wishing they hadn’t gone out that night when homework was calling their name or wished they had come in earlier last night when their eyes were heavy, but their friends had convinced them otherwise. This is a lesson in procrastination. Mere hours are left before our first class begins, yet the televisions are still glowing, the stereos are still blasting an incessant flow of music at obnoxious levels and people are still streaming by my open door. Girls giggle as they talk of Johnny or Alex or Jimmy or what’s his name and every couple minutes I catch the tail end of a meaningless conversation that distracts me from whatever it is I’m trying to accomplish.
11:14 p.m.-I slowly ascend from my small wooden chair, and throw another blank sheet of paper on the already covered desk as I make my way to the door. Almost instantaneously I feel wiped of all energy and for a brief second that small bed, which I often complain of, looks homey and very welcoming. I shrug off the tiredness and sluggishly drag my feet behind me those few brief steps. Eyes blurry from weariness, I focus on a now bare area of my door which had previously been covered by a picture of something that was once funny or memorable, but now I can’t seem to remember what it was. Either way, it’s gone now and with pathetic intentions of finishing my homework I go to close the door. I take a peek down the hall just to assure myself one final time that there is nothing I would rather be doing and when there is nothing worth investigating, aside from a few laughs a couple rooms down, I continue to shut the door.
11:21 p.m.-As I clumsily trip over piles of dirty clothes, shoes, and cans that remind me of better times I become increasingly aware of the clock, and in turn the small amount of sleep I’ll be acquiring tonight. I stop and think of all those ideas I had about college; what it would be like. All those preconceived notions of what college was supposed to be like became quite accurate. The long nights, the stressful days, the friends that suddenly appeared in your life and walked out just as quickly. As I sit at this desk, I glance over to my roommate who seems to be content with this long night that, for me, had approached much sooner than anticipated. She sits there in a pair of tight jeans and a new top she bought yesterday looking as if she was about to get up and leave.
11:32p.m.-I push myself from the cluttered wooden desk that has surrounded and confronted me all day. I had looked upon those same blank papers earlier knowing it would lead to this point. I once again make my way to the door, this time not to shut out the noise, but to once again walk away from those papers that have very few hours to be created. I know they won’t get done, but I slowly close the door behind me as a sigh of relief yet severe disappointment exits my mouth. I can hear my roommate’s voice trail off as she asks where I’m going, but I don’t want to stop.
11:36 p.m.-As I begin my journey away from the piles of endless paper that needs to be sorted through and finished, I find myself slowly becoming overwhelmed with fear.
Though my mind says I should go back and finish my work, I can’t make myself turn around and with each step I know I’m wasting more and more time. I’m being pulled deeper into the fear of failure and it’s because I put off those blank sheets on the desk. Right in this second my phone rings and I stop momentarily to see who it is. I hesitantly pull out the phone and the familiar dorm number that had shown on my phone so many times before was now blinking unremittingly. I couldn’t go back. I threw the phone in my pocket and continued on my way.
11:49 p.m.-As I walk down the halls I see the remains of the weekend parties carelessly scattered about the halls. Pizza boxes, cans, articles of clothes and dirt filled the same halls that were clean just two days before. The janitors are gone and the adolescent ways of life have taken over. I can still hear those same laughs, and as I look straight down the hall I see I’m not the only person who is still up. I catch myself snickering at all of them for their carelessness of staying up this late, only to remember I’m right in front of them.
12:02 a.m.-Around the corner of the long hallway I can see the stairs and at this