Sidewalks have become more navigable, the library more quiet and textbooks are scrambling out of nooks and crannies and into their owners’ hands. Teachers are piling on more work, moving faster through material in a mad dash to finish before finals. The end of the semester is drawing near. Instead of the thrill this epiphany should inspire, it only brings feelings of dread for me. The race to beat the clock and turn in everything my professors required of me pushed me farther along the path of becoming a true college student this past week – It gave me my first all-nighter. I always knew it would happen. Being the master of procrastination, I knew it was bound to catch up with me once I hit college. And with the amount of due dates spiraling out of control, it was only a matter of time. On nights when my workload threatened to overwhelm me I always comforted myself with the knowledge that I was tough, that I almost managed an all-nighter in the 10th grade and could do so again. Boy was I wrong. Let me first assert that I stayed up the whole night and past 11 a.m. the next day. But that’s the only victory I can claim. The work I was trying to get accomplished turned out to be crap. I spent half the time trying to keep my eyes open, so there was no way I could produce anything of substance. Secondly, I felt like crap. The only thing that kept me awake during my first class – the only class I attended that day – was an intense battle with gas. I went through the morning half asleep. Friends passed me on my way to class, and I had to make a special effort to look at their faces so I could tell who they were. It was pure madness. My entire week was thrown out of circuit because of that one stupid night. I didn’t get a chance to catch up on sleep because of a program I had to attend. And I haven’t caught up on sleep since because life doesn’t stop – only people do. As I shared my story with friends, some upperclassmen enlightened me to the fact that all-nighters are “so freshman year,” and now they do not miss sleep for anything. I’m with them now – lesson learned.
—-Contact Allen Womble at [email protected]