Monday, March 16, 1998
Some practical pointers for a procrastinating paper writer
Ace your finals, work out and deep clean the apartment all at
once
As a third-year junior, I feel I am at liberty to divulge
certain secrets as to the best ways to study for the upcoming
finals and term papers. First, wait until everyone leaves the
house. (This may be difficult, but if you’re lucky like me, all
your roommates will decide to leave town on the same weekend.)
Then, pop in some Bob Dylan or Roger Waters’s solo work, the stuff
your roommates wouldn’t be interested in having on as background
music. But they’re gone so ha. You get to play.
Then, clean the kitchen. Start by putting away all the dishes
that have been drying. Then do the two counters full of dirty
dishes. Then pick up the dishes in the other room. All the while,
be singing along with Bob about how the sun’s not yellow, it’s
chicken. Agree with him that you don’t want to be an old maid at
22, married to your job. Ponder that as you simultaneously
contemplate beginning research on your 12-page Hemingway-Fitzgerald
paper. Realize you need to clean more.
Clear all of the trash out of the living room. This includes
empty beer cans, the contents of which you helped to consume last
night in another effort to prepare for your paper. Good work.
Congratulate yourself. Getting hammered with your friends is an
excellent way to ease your mind into thinking about the role World
War I had on young Ernest.
Now take that drooping streamer and reattach it. Good. If that
weren’t properly in place, there would be no chance of you managing
to plan out your paper. I mean, if you can’t even maintain order in
your living room how the hell can you expect to arrange your
thoughts on your paper? Christ, get it together. This is
important.
Now deal with the recycling bins and mop the floor. It may not
seem dirty, but you know this is an essential step in proper paper
preparation. Good. Keep singing at the top of your lungs as you
move that mop or else you may begin to mentally organize your work
schedule for next week. Bad. Repeat after me: "I’m goin’ out to
California, where I was born, and hardly raised." That’s our man
Bob. We sing with him. No more thinking about you. Become one with
Bob. He is your voice and yours is his. His words are all about
you. Good.
However, don’t go joining any cults. This is purely for
educational purposes. The pre-paper writing phase, you
understand.
Don’t forget that your roommate bought Easter decorations that
look like wire barbed with plastic bunnies. Actually, it is wire
barbed with bunnies. It’s up to you to wrap this around the chairs
and tape the plastic bunnies that fall off to the table, you do
understand. Don’t even think of doing research yet. It’s not yet
time. You must decorate, or else the whole thing could fall apart.
Everyone knows this.
And you must now, of course, to refuel, bake a batch of oatmeal
cookies and eat half of the batter as well as half of the cookies
as soon as they leave the oven. After taking a few to your
neighbor, this will leave you with four. Eat one more. Good. Three
is a good amount to have left over for tomorrow. You’re doing well.
The paper is bound to be great. This is exactly where it should be
two days before it’s due. Perfect.
But don’t forget, you still have to clean your room. Yes, take
all the underwear you dumped on the floor this morning in a mad
rush to catch the bus for a job interview back in the drawer. No,
put down that Hemingway biography. It’s not time to open that yet.
You still have to sort your socks and look through all of your CDs
to find the ones you need to hear right now. It’s very
important.
Pop both Run On albums onto your five-changer CD player, along
with both Home Alive poetry/rock compilation albums and Radiohead’s
"OK Computer." Good work. They will help you to rearrange your "box
o’ school supplies." That must be resorted tonight. There’s just no
two ways about it.
You’re doing well, and though by now you’ve cleaned not only the
kitchen, living room, breakfast nook, but your room as well, it
still isn’t time to open your books. No, no, no, you’ve forgotten
the most instrumental part of the preparatory process. That’s
right: flexing your muscles in front of the mirror as you belt out
the lyrics to your favorite song on that one album that you can’t
remember the name of. I know, I can’t believe you almost skipped
this step either. But, it’s okay. I caught you. Everything’s back
on track, running smoothly, right on schedule. Phee-yew.
OK, now you’re going to have to do your jump on the bed and
bounce up and down as you act like you’re in the coolest video on
the face of the earth and you’re the most rad rock star,
shit-kicking anti-hero ever to explode on screen. Duh, who could
begin a paper without this burst of mega-ego to pump yourself
up?
All right, now some relaxing will be required. You’ve worn
yourself out with all this work. Papers are exhausting. Sometimes
professors just don’t realize the strain they place on students.
Geez.
You have to turn the volume up and lie back. Take a deep breath
and focus on the words. What is a CeeBee GeeBee haircut, you
wonder, and why would it be easier to drive down but harder to
drive back on Christmas Day. It’s just too confusing. This is
hurting your brain. Oh, it’s excruciating. You should really get
some rest. In fact, just go to sleep. You’ve done enough work for
one night. Tomorrow you can wake up bright and early and do some
reading for your other classes. That will alleviate some stress and
get you further ahead on your paper. It’s already two in the
morning. But good work, you’ve done great for one night. Fitzgerald
would be proud.
VanderZanden is a third-year English student.
Vanessa Vanderzanden