No Time Unless You Make It

I swear, I really wish sometimes that I could just drop out of college. Take right now for example. After this week, I have 5 exams and 4 quizzes in the following 2 weeks. Then in between that and my next barrage of paper torture, 3 weekends of tournaments. Uy.

Then I give myself a mental slap in the face.

Take this food for thought: Theoretically, you could while away your time every day, watching every minute-by-minute update of ESPN, reruns of old movies, and playing video games and such. But at the end of the day and after all the weeks and weeks of sitting around, what does it amount to? And who would care? Nobody cares about a life of mediocrity. I think that to run away from a challenge now, or ever, even, would be the ultimate bitch move.

After all, things could definitely be much worse.

I realized the full meaning of this lesson when I was riding the bus back from practice one day. An elderly man, homeless probably, with scraggly, wild hair carrying what seemed like his whole life on his back and years of hardship in the lines of his face, hobbled onto the bus, leaning on a old wooden cane like a third leg. He had no trouble finding a seat on a bus that was standing-room only a minute before. I imagined what life must have been like for this poor guy for the past few years. Instead of worrying about his next test or scholarship application, he'd probably been spending every day worrying about how to get his next meal, or if he'd have to spend another cold night laying on unforgivingly hard pavement. I thought, I don't know how this guy got to this point, but that doesn't matter. It was far too late to make any kind of change or improvement in his life. He looked 60 years old and was by himself, homeless and hopeless. And that's how he'd probably spend the rest of his days.

It seems kind of cruel to justify myself by saying, "I don't want to end up like that guy," but the fact remains that it's true. Every second you waste could lead you closer to that end. And although the case of the homeless guy on the bus seems a bit extreme, it serves as a good example. When you're off to face your next academic obstacle course, and you wonder why you weren't prepared, you can't say you didn't have the time. Because you had the time all along. Wishing for one more day, or even one more weekend wouldn't change anything. Even if you have a fully loaded schedule and are holding down a full-time job, you can make time. The President of the United States can negotiate a three-country peace treaty, meet with executive advisors to decide on changes to domestic policy, give a State of the Union address, and still ask his children how their day at school went at dinner. Unless you are willing to make time for what's truly important in making yourself better, you're just another slob on the couch. And that's the mental giant I'm trying to take down.