It takes me a while to remember that the world doesn’t stand still while I’m studying. It doesn’t stop because I have too much work to complete, and not enough willpower to go to extra lengths to do it properly. By properly, of course, I mean, with more preparation. It doesn’t stop when I’ve my books and stacks of papers and two binders around me and suddenly, I happen to have a two minute break (which is really just me walking into the kitchen with no aim, or going to get a ruler or some more supplies) and it’s not really a break, but hey, I’m not staring at a sheet of paper that has nearly illegible writing with creased eyebrows.
Sure, there are nice moments. Moments where I catch myself humming along to the music on the radio behind me, or when I finally understand what the hell I’m supposed to be doing – you know, those nice rare things. And then there are not so nice things where it’s an ungodly hour in the morning and I still have work to do, or I’ve spent hours at the table surrounded by book and I get to class the next morning and just deflate and blank out, brain gone, abandoning me in the dimly lit classroom.
Then again, there are both sides to this issue. And I get that the buried in schoolwork one isn’t ideal, but the other could be said as sounding better than it truly is. But that’s debatable.
I tend to forget about time passing even when I’m farting around with absolutely no care in the world. Oh, missed lunch, damn, I’ll just have it right now because I can. In those instances, there are no brain farts, there is only simple forgetfulness and lack of moderation on productiveness, if you will, of time passing. But that’s the thing, I guess. While time passes in this sequences, there is no rush. You’re simply there.
And though one could argue that all good things come to an end, and this sequence traditionally does when it gets colder outside, I don’t really see it ending, not until you’re buried in enough work that you never ever have time to not think about time passing. I think it kind of just falters in patterns of say, five days when you don’t have a load of work that comes with having seven or more classes every ten months.
Back to forgetting time as it passes, I think it’s important to note that life goes on as these things get completed. The list of work gets checked, but more gets done too. You have two or more meals a day, you see friend for perhaps fifteen minutes while you aren’t listening to your teacher. Said teacher makes jokes and for a few seconds you feel better about the fact that as soon as you get home, you’ll pull a textbook out of you bag and lay stacks of papers around it and stay there for the next three or more hours.
And then, you have little interruptions. Dinner. A phone call. An email to send or reply to. Shirts to fold. Sauce to cook. Books to pick up. These might not seem convenient, but admit it, you can feel the weight and the tension releasing itself as you back away from that bloody desk of yours. Well, at first it kind of seems like your blood is boiling because you need to get this work done, but hey, while you’re completing those seemingly inconvenient tasks (in between the panicked watch-checking) you do feel relieved after this “break.”
Yeah, school’s a bitch. It drains you. It takes up so much bloody time. It’s reminds you you’re fucked while you’re getting ready for bed on Sunday. It plays with you; bad grade here, good grade there, awful grade here. It rips you away from old friend you haven’t seen, from social sites that you used to use for talking to said old friends (and you now use to look up local news and talk about the mount of homework you have to other irritated classmates).
Here I am thinking, man I wish next week I’m not going to so much as glance at this textbook, I can shove in under my bed or in the depths of my skinny locker for once. Maybe I’ll see my friends for more than fifteen minutes. But hey, I gotta get back to work, so I can’t even spare time to think about that right now.