I am suffering from the consequences of my own actions
By CARMEL RAVIV — craviv@ucdavis.edu
Every week or so, I have a paper to write, a midterm to study for, a reading response to do or math problems to solve. It’s crazy to think all of these mundane little tasks eventually add up to a degree that is supposed to get me a job, but they do. If I don’t analyze Durkheim sociological theories or record all the calories I consumed for NUT 10, I might just end up career-less. So, do I do them in an appropriately timed manner? Am I motivated to get my work done?
No — it’s 2 a.m. on a Thursday night and instead of starting any of these assignments, I’m watching Dhar Man videos on TikTok (ironically). Any time I try to get ahead of my assignments, my brain can’t comprehend why I would start now when I have so much time to do it later.
But hey, hanging out with friends, taking naps and watching “history of the entire world, i guess” on YouTube is also productive, right? Wrong. So wrong. I am so delusional it could make my mother cry.
Leaving all of the work and stress until the last minute, thereby sacrificing any sort of peace of mind, just makes my college experience so much harder, yet I am addicted to doing so. I complain and complain about how time consuming college classes are, but all I’m consumed with is the thought of doing my assignment that I will inevitably start an hour before the deadline. I’m like Meghan Markle, asking for sympathy on TV for having my privacy invaded, or in my case, being stressed when I am the one imposing the stress on myself. Only Oprah, a Netflix docu-series and a royal fortune could fix me.
If only there was a pill I could take that could make me focus on my assignments and work efficiently. Oh wait.
Nah, I don’t need that. I need something that can help me relax when I’m grinding before that due date instead of stressing out, so my brain doesn’t go into overdrive. Oh wait.
If you’re in the same boat as me, let’s all agree that we don’t have much room to complain. It’s on us. And hey, maybe you make diamonds under pressure. I make tears and B+ work.
Written by: Carmel Raviv — craviv@ucdavis.edu
Disclaimer: (This article is humor and/or satire, and its content is purely fictional. The story and the names of “sources” are fictionalized.)
