I don’t talk about myself enough in these articles. Sure, they are entirely based on my experiences and written in the first person. But I hardly ever get to boast my own successes and bemoan my own problems. And one could say, “That’s because this is a weekly column in an esteemed newspaper and not a diary entry.” That person isn’t wrong. That’s why instead of reading my actual weekly to-do list, you get to read this slightly humorous, thinly-veiled to-do list.

I want everyone to clear their head and imagine Matthew McConaughey and Kate Hudson each at a 45 degree angle. Isn’t that relaxing? Now imagine yourself as Kate Hudson, a young professional, only instead of pitching a column about landing a man in 10 days to the boss at your women’s magazine, you just looked at the syllabus you found at the bottom of your backpack and noticed you have a huge “thing” due in 10 days — paper/midterm/film/humor column/relatable project — you get the idea. Speaking with an air of experience, here’s how I’m predicting those 10 days will go:

Day 1: Life is great. You got eight hours of sleep last night. You impressed your boss at work today. You did all of your homework and went to all of your classes. Honestly, you are thriving, the picture of college success. You’re probably doing great personally too. No issues with friends, roommates, partners, families. You might have even heard a really funny joke today.

Day 2: The “thing” is looming but also far enough away that it’s not the most pressing issue in your brain — like global warming. So you decide to pick up a little bit more work in your extracurriculars. You know you shouldn’t, but you also don’t know how to say “no.” You’re also a narcissist, which leads you to think even your time-constrained and half-assed work is better than most people’s 100 percent. You decide it’s a good idea to go out to the bars even though it’s a weeknight.

Day 3: It was not a good idea to go out to bars even though it’s a weeknight. The stress is starting. In a disorganized, hungover frenzy, you remember everything else you have going on this week other than the “thing” — extracurriculars, work, other classes, friend obligations. You think about drinking again. You — probably — don’t, but you also — definitely — don’t do anything productive either.

Day 4-Day 6: Ignore. Deflect. Auf wiedersehen. Goodbye. Adieu. Adieu to your grades, your friends and your health.

Day 7: You finally really look at the “thing.” It’s a lot harder and more time consuming than you thought. You cry a little. Not a lot, but just enough that you might have chopped an onion instead of just realizing how screwed you are. You still don’t really do anything for it. But you know you should and it’s the thought that counts.

Day 8: You work the entire day and are feeling incredibly mentally and emotionally strained. You go to the bars again instead of getting sleep because at this point, you’ve accepted that you are dumb and extremely self-destructive.

Day 9: You beg of yourself to do your work but you just can’t focus. You stay up the entire night stressing about how you are going nowhere in life and will never be employed. The “thing” still needs a lot of work, but this existential crisis has you feeling like you need just as much.

Day 10: You have to set your alarm every five minutes while doing work just in case you inadvertently fall asleep. You get the “thing” done. Not to the best of your ability. Not enough to be impressed or even mildly happy with yourself for completing the task — but done. You go to the bars.

Patty Terhune is a senior policy studies and television, radio and film dual major. These have been a busy two weeks for her. To give her a pep talk, you can follow her on Twitter @pattyterhune  or reach her at paterhun@syr.edu. 

Published on October 6, 2016 at 12:07 am