Graduation Is a Coal Mine

Confessions of a Canary

Photo from Unsplash.

While most colleges are out for the summer and graduates are enjoying the newly-loosened regulations of the pandemic, the unfortunate reality of attending an institution that still uses the quarter system is that I still have a week and a half before finals even start. For me, this means that instead of frolicking along a beach or drinking sangría with friends, I will be hunched over my laptop for the next week like Gollum in his cave. We have jokes about this. My little sister calls me “her little hunchback husband” because my computer-casual posture leaves something to be desired.

There is a persistent devil-may-care attitude in the air, and as someone who attended undergrad at a university that used the semester system, I find it difficult to force myself into nearly three weeks of extra focus as my finals approach. My body and mind are used to being done by this time of year. This year though, as the impending end of graduate school draws near, there is extra resistance. You see, I will admit right now, that I am the king of self-sabotage. The emperor, even.

In general, I am a productive individual, juggling classes, multiple jobs, and my fledging writing career, all while having time to care for my pet snakes, water my plants, and somehow still watch ample amounts of Netflix. Who says a modern person…