Thoughts

Here I sit, writing this as a way to procrastinate from studying for the two midterms I have in two days. It's odd how procrastination seems to motivate you to do anything but what you're supposed to. I'm sat in my school library, surrounded by thousands of books, most of which I suspect have never been cracked open, each waiting to have its knowledge unlocked. In a frantic attempt to procrastinate once more, that time from studying for a final, I flipped through a few of these books.

Like the unread pages, I question whether I’m on the right path—not just with what I’m writing at this moment, but in life. I'm pretty sure I'm not doing what I should be doing. I ponder self-improvement, my goals, my future, what I truly want to accomplish, and what I thought my sophomore fall semester would be like. I reflect on the highs and lows of school and how, even as college grows on me, it feels increasingly incomplete. I realize I need to be better to reach my goals, especially since Covid made me less concerned with academics—a change that has been both good and bad.

Some say grades don't matter, while others insist they do. Some claim the school you attend is inconsequential, and others say it's critical. These conflicting sayings leave me uncertain—who's right, if anyone?

It's a learning curve to realize that innate smartness fades with age, and only continued effort and hard work will propel you to where you want to be. It's a cliché, but it rings true.

At 19, almost 20, I still haven't connected a single piece of the vast puzzle that is life. I know I need to study, but I sit here, yearning to ski, to stand atop a mountain gazing down at untouched powder—yet that's months away. And there's a nagging doubt that when I finally gaze down at that powder, I'll be filled with regret over these two tests, if I don't study enough.