Tight Winded Academics

The weather near finals season was always indecisive on whether it would be cool, cold, or mildly refreshing. The flowers had begun their annual blossom, a few weeks earlier than expected due to a heat wave. Classes were at the interstice of relaxingly calm and overbearing with intensity. Finals were just around the corner, less than a couple weeks. The interstice between storms was nice; I had time to play a game, Elden Ring, which relaxed me to my core. Though I didn’t primarily focus my time on that, there was so much at play that hours I spent on myself were merely blinks. I had methodically set my life to get me the perfect grade for my finals, the highest grade that I would ever get in that class.

Each day was a moment of marked time, a passing grain of sand within the hourglass. I needed to get my papers done before finals season even started, so during the whole gap between their completion and submission, they would be revised thoroughly. Four days of the week I studied in the library, reading into the semantics of Mrs Dalloway. More so I began to construct my paper, and its thesis, which became so complex that I had to divvy it up. Every day was a disheveled and sophisticated blur. I felt that a part of my personality was reflected in how I looked, equating my academics to style and so on–I needed to look the part to be the part. Black coffee to inspire thought, gelled hair and clean-shaven demeanor. Everything worked as parts of an internal machine, chaotically working in methodical fashion. An internal engine powered me to move like the methodic wrapping of a snare drum, beating fast and sharply.  

It was to both dismay and jubilance when I finished my first draft. I had done what I set out to do. Yet not exactly everything I needed to do; it was only my first draft,  not my final one. The revision process stood out as equally challenging, staring at words that I otherwise perceived as passable. It was time for several opinions, excluding mine, The Writing Center was first. They get paid for it, so why not take advantage of it. The end result of my first meeting was a number of comments and suggestions on my paper, illuminating faults that I had been blind to previously. The stakes were high by this time; the paper was due in little less than a week. Alongside that I still had to juggle the responsibilities of every other class. It was tough, but I knew I could handle it. The third pair of eyes that viewed my paper was a peer of mine. I sent it to them for grammatical checking. Then the Writing Center again, yet notably different tutors–different eyes saw different things. All the while I resolved and contemplated every suggestion that I had gained from these revisions. My paper was a mess of suggestions and comments, highlighted and crossed-out portions made up more text than the original draft.

Now there was less time and the paper would be due in only a handful of days. Everything was going along with the chaotic engine that had sustained this plan. Then suddenly I said, “Nah it can wait another day.” At the point where everything was at its highest, I didn’t really care. I knew I had a good paper through some means, I knew I didn’t need to worry about it that day–there was time. I relaxed, alternatively lifting weights with my gym bro. I suspended everything for that day, spending nearly three hours in the gym,which was a rare occasion. When I came back to my dorm, I watched a movie instead. Life was easy. I slept well that day.

Then I woke up, and everything connected again. The black coffee was back, and the rapid firing drums created an intense atmosphere. I had a meeting with my professor and asked her to  look over my paper before the deadline. Then when the meeting was over, everything went smoothly – her suggestions were enough to give the paper its final shape. We were now in the falling action, and all that bebop jazz had turned to bossa nova. Within the following days, I turned in my paper and was content that everything seemed fine. I was able to do whatever I pleased. Life had a golden tint to it. I dropped the black coffee; sometimes it gave me headaches. Now I drank sparkling water in glass cups. It was fancy so why not. I raised my glass to striving for an A+, and as it turns out, I got it.