Put On Your Big Boy Sweats

It happens to be finals week and I'm to that point where everything has become a chore. Eating, dressing, bathing, even breathing, are all things that I constantly remind myself are activities I like doing. Well, maybe not dressing. If it weren't for my own self-imposed rule that anyone who wears sweatpants outside the house is a dredge of society, then I would be wearing them 24/7. If it weren't for laws requiring people wear clothes then you guys would be seeing a whole lot more of me.

So far, my process for getting up and functioning like a normal human being includes:
1. Staying up to ungodly hours the night before
2. Convincing myself I got enough sleep
3. Turning on Britney Spears' "Piece of Me" (while I pretend I'm singing to my finals)
4. Shoving any edible thing into my mouth hole (brownies, Swedish Fish, avocados, eggs, a half eaten granola bar I found stuck to my face upon waking up)
5. Looking at the sun much the same way Gollum looks at Hobbits
6. Telling myself I have just enough time later to finish that paper I was working on (this blog is a prime example)

Lately I've been trying to blame senior-itis about my serious lack of motivation to try and get everything done.  Constantly I'm telling myself how important ___________ (insert specific project) is and then watching a documentary on cows while I spoon peanut butter into my mouth...that's just an example, definitely not something I've done...maybe.

Through all this, I've been searching for that spark that will get me interested in the learning again or if I just have to accept that this is a normal process for my mind. Could I take my laziness and blame it on the social aspect of college that surrounds me? "All these students have stopped, I might as well too," my brain quietly reassures itself. "Now, go eat more cake."

At the same time though, my mind sparks up all these crazy ideas probably through hallucinations induced by lack of sleep.  I've found myself eating an absurd amount of cheese recently and thought to myself, "Hey, someone should really do a study looking at the amount of cheese eaten, employment status, and standing in school."  At least I convince myself these are the hard hitting questions that should be answered. It's no cure for cancer, but it's something.

Part of me started looking for causes that seemed more logical. I try to limit my time on certain social networks* and read books that aren't related to any of my current curriculum.  This can lead down a non-desirable path as well since one of those books is all about sibling relationships and the many factors that affect everything in our lives concerning those relationships (The Sibling Effect by Jeffrey Kluger; it's good, really). My brain, already in lazy mode, says I can blame the order that I was born in on how I'm reacting to all my current stimuli. That's it! That one time my sister threw scissors at me destroyed any chance I have of being an NBA all-star (Because I totally could have, duh) and thus sentencing me to get an undergraduate degree like a NORMAL human being. Ugh, so rude.

Of course, as much as I'd like to blame all those things, I can't. I still don't want to wholly blame myself, but I like to think I'm smart enough to not blame trivial things.

So maybe I'm not motivated to finish reading another chapter in a textbook or looking at notes before a final, I'm still rolling out of bed to conquer some aspect of my life. It's those accomplishments--the little things, like being above the sweatpants, that keep me going.




*SUU Confessions guys. It's a thing that is sometimes wildly entertaining while other times you scratch your head while recalling that the definition of a confession isn't anonymously complaining about how loud your roommate is.

Screaming At Rice

We often reach those breaking points after enduring periods of temporary insanity.  The past week has been one of those such cases.

With two (large) tests in one week and one coming up tomorrow (yes, tomorrow, as in less than 8 hours away...Eight. Hours. Away.) my body starts to rebel against any current stress.

Oh, you have a chapter to read?  Hey, let's make your face break out.  That way, you can't go hang out with anyone, or shouldn't.

You want to relax by going to the gym?  Hold on, I'm gonna make you sick while you're there (I can't believe you went there anyway, Rudolph)

You have no time for meals!  Frosting for lunch, pop-tarts for dinner, and...McDonald's, you need McDonald's right now.  It's 2:30am?  Even better.

Forget sleeping, sleeping is for the living.  You've crossed into a new realm sir.

Honestly, I'm a little fed up with it.  Thankfully my face decided to calm down after I took my final for one class two days ago but I don't think the sleep will come until the one tomorrow is over.

So in the meantime, I stay up to ungodly hours eating the equivalent of obesity on a plate while being in a state of undress.

I decided momentarily to try and eat real food for the first time in 40 hours and cook.

I reach for the rice, my grip falters, and like an utterly dramatic movie it falls in slow motion to the floor with a crash.  Rice, rice everywhere.  Flying through the air like some tragic accident, there's even screaming.

From me.  I'M YELLING AT THE RICE.  I've come to that aforementioned breaking point and my mind is bouncing around and getting lost in cracks like the rice on the floor.

"AH, WHY RICE!?  WHY?!" the words flying from my mouth.

I stare at the pieces on the floor, grudgingly find the broom, and begin to pick my thoughts off the floor.  Each sweep and some of these distractions make their way into the garbage.

I'm distracted, even the universe is trying to thwart me.