Finals Motivation: They Don’t Think It Be Like It Is, But It Do

We’ve arrived at the end of the semester, which means it’s time for Christmas cocktail parties, study snacks, and still wearing shorts because it is Alabama and seasons are but a societal construct. Most importantly, it’s time to crack down on classes and finally learn everything I put off learning since I had my last tests. Last year, especially, I found myself wondering in the days leading up to finals, “Why me?” I had a Calc 3 teacher who I can only describe as Satan incarnate. I had four cumulative finals. Everywhere I went, people were playing with dogs, eating crawfish, and listening to jam bands while I had to stay inside and watch video after video trying to understand “curl.” It felt downright cruel.

I have always loved school, but that doesn’t mean I have always enjoyed it.  In fact, though I love to learn, I have really hated the structure of school at various points in my life. Still, three ideas have helped me survive the hardest times in my educational career; this is what I want to share in the days leading up to finals. My keys to success aren’t study methods (cram if you want to– I do) but general ideas to help motivate, inspire, and direct efforts.

1. Focus. My motto for pretty much all of high school was “I will because I have to,” which doesn’t roll off the tongue and is actually grammatically incorrect, but the substance is there. There’s not a lot of wiggle room in a motto like that: it doesn’t ask if I can, it doesn’t ask what I want. This motto got me through my junior year, when I (unwisely) took seven AP classes and also helped me survive literally any time I had to run (any speed or distance) for soccer. The corporate version of this saying is “Just Do It,” but I like mine better not only because I thought of it but also because it involves the next idea, which is:
2. Dream big, do a little. The “because I have to” part of the motto implies some greater goal, which I think is imperative to success. Pick something, and aim for it, then decide all the little steps you need to take to achieve it. I knew I wanted to get out of Kansas for college, and I knew I would need a large scholarship to make that goal financially practical. I knew my best shot was to become a National Merit Scholar, and I knew I had to score at least a 212 on the PSAT to have a chance. I knew I had to practice every day, until I scored well above a 212 every time I took the test. So I did. When my goals were firm and unmoving, everything else could wiggle, which brings me to:
3. Treat yo’ self. Do three things that make you happy every day, even if you have a math test. Some days will still suck; that is unavoidable. Some days, the biggest treat I can afford is to put peppermint mocha creamer in my coffee instead of vanilla. Some days it’s painting my toenails or taking time to listen to Enya and just lay on my carpet for five minutes in the dark (which makes me sound mentally unhinged but I can’t think of another way to phrase it). Love yourself; treat yourself.

Knee deep in coffee and flashcards,

Megan

P.S. Always remember that studying never looks as cool as it does on tumblr (see first image). It’s ok to have bad handwriting and a crappy desk and look like an actual dust bunny when you study. It doesn’t make you less smart or successful. This idea actually inspired the title of this post but I didn’t get around to mentioning it until now. As Elle Woods said, “What you want is right in front of you.” Chase it.

Last week: Moving into Your “Third Place”

Coming soon: End of year wrap-up, probably, maybe

Moving into Your “Third Place”

I realized this title sounds like the third place I’ve ever lived, which would be my freshman dorm, but there’s actually a pretty well-recognized concept known as the “third place.” The third place is basically a place you go very regularly that isn’t your home or workplace/school. For my strict definition of third place, it should be a place you visit multiple times a week.

Third places are important and the end of the third place for American adults is troubling because it signals a loss of connection (according to a lot of very serious articles). Third places in the past consisted of bridge clubs, lodges, church groups and similar locations. Some have suggested the internet as the modern-day third place, something I have some qualms about. Though I am on the internet every day (every second, some might say), it doesn’t foster the kind of close connections traditional third places do. It doesn’t build me. It does build my collection of cute dog pictures.

Starbucks even considers itself a third place, which is incidentally how I came to know about third places at all. The only person I actually know who makes Starbucks their third place is one of my economics teachers, who goes to Sbux every day and even intentionally decorated his apartment like a Starbucks.

Unless you’re my econ teacher, the chance of you moving into your third place is probably slim. My whole life, my third place was my dance studio, and though I loved it, I doubt they would let me move in. So when I had the unique opportunity to move into my college third place, I jumped at the opportunity– but not for that specific reason.

The ADPi house is my college third place, though I award Jimmy John’s and certain fraternities honorable mention. As a freshman, I came to the house every day to eat, study, and meet with my friends. During rush, I told PNMs (potential new members for those unsaturated with greek life) all about how I loved the house, spent so much time at the house, and even frequently napped on the couch we were sitting on. I usually followed it with this:

NAILED IT. But what I didn’t realize was how different living in the house would be. There were all the things I had hoped for: spontaneous trips to get takeout, random meetups in the second floor living room that turned into movie marathons, free laundry. To be honest, there were fewer pranks than I expected, which was disappointing. However, overall it has been about as cool as one could possibly hope for.

Unexpected dilemmas still arose. During rush I didn’t leave the house for two weeks. I had become unaccustomed to sunlight and was actually 70% through the naked mole rat transformation process. Who knew it was so simple? I have also totally removed commuting from my life, which is both a positive and a negative. People who actually have to commute like an hour for their jobs would probably give anything to give up their commutes, but there’s something psychological about physically going home that allows you to take off the day’s stress and be off duty. Walking upstairs doesn’t really have that same effect. On the other hand, I can roll out of bed, grab 8 strips of bacon (we always have bacon– don’t think sorority girls don’t eat) and be to class in 10 minutes.

Sharing a room is different, too. My roommate, Aly, was my roommate last year and we don’t have any of the major roommate problems I’ve heard of in my time at college– and there are some doozies. Aly’s worst roommate flaw is probably “watches too many movies,” so I’ve been pretty lucky. Still, for the last five years of my life, I was the only child living at home. I had basically unlimited alone time and space. I thought always being around others would annoy the daylights out of me, and for about two weeks, it did. Then, something amazing happened:

I became someone who loves to have other people around. It weirds me out when Aly goes on trips with her mock trials team and I have to fall asleep in our (totally normal sized, not overly large) room alone. Studying alone feels weird. I’m writing this in the basement study room/TV room and honestly feel a little weird about being alone. Living in the house really does connect you to your sisters.

I would absolutely recommend living in your sorority house. You’ll feel like you’re always on call– and if you have a leadership position, you are– and you’ll never be alone, but that’s half of the point. My sorority house is the safest, loudest, coziest (even though they keep the thermostat at 68 and I’m getting frosted out) and 2nd most meaningful place I’ve ever lived. First most meaningful is obviously my parents’ house but that’s a given for so many reasons. If you have the chance to live in a sorority house, do it. The only other chances to live with 64 other women are jail or a brothel and this blog post applies to neither of those places.

xoxo gobble gobble,

Megan

Last week: Word Vomit

Next week: Not really looking to commit to anything because it’s Thanksgiving but I have some extra days off school so maybe if the mood strikes me (why does this sound like a Tinder bio)

Word Vomit

My mom and I are very similar, which is concerning because I have already reached her level of… let’s say executive skills… in the few short years I’ve been on Earth. And by executive skills, I don’t mean earning power, but rather the need and desire to achieve and tell others what to do. Being in charge is a burden I would not want for anyone else, mostly because then I wouldn’t be in charge. Still, besides our drive, my mom and I share a desire to be what she once called “observational students of life.” Two observations I’ve been thinking on this week:

One thing I was very surprised to find is that people don’t really change in college, which seemed counter-intuitive to me. Of course I changed in the sense that I made new friends and developed some capability to behave like a responsible adult, but my core motivations didn’t change dramatically.

I don’t know what I expected. Though I love going to school at Alabama, it’s not any secret that it was my safety school. After an intense season– year, in actuality– of college applications, making a decision, especially a comfortable one, was an immense relief. I imagined myself luxuriating in the free time and plentiful social events I would experience in college. The phrase “C’s get degrees” played in my head like the comforting introduction to an episode of Law and Order: SVU lulling me to sleep. In my imagination, college was a collage of parties, sorority crafting (?), and decorating my dorm (???). I never considered that I am both sort of messy and totally neurotic about building my resumè, which is not really cohesive to that sort of lifestyle.

The first time I applied for something in college, I had no college activities or experiences. I think I had a low level identity crisis. “Who am I without my accomplishments?” I wondered as I lie in the fetal position covered in a marinara sauce stained blanket (#dormgoals). Instead of developing some sort of greater identity not based on extracurriculars, I applied for everything. I actually was able to do most of the things for which I applied, which was like a gentle rub of Bengay on the sore muscle that is my inferiority complex. It was great. It still is great. I love being involved. I love meetings. I’m addicted to power.

…

Young people are really flippant about cancer. The attitude seems to be that we are all going to die somehow and it doesn’t really matter how, but that is bullshit. If we can decide lethal injections are more humane than death by firing squad, certainly other natural deaths have a hierarchy. Cancer is pretty much the “stoning” of natural deaths. If you die of cancer, you will probably die unnaturally young, it will be excruciatingly (and let’s not undermine this part– excruciatingly) painful, and you will likely know for a few months that your death is imminent. I know young people aren’t world-renowned for their ability to weigh present benefit and future cost, but it makes me want to get a tattoo on my forehead of the blog my mom wrote about my aunt Kris’s decline over the span of 5 months so I can point to it whenever someone says “We all die somehow anyway!” Oh yeah, 42 is practically ancient! I’m sure I won’t care how I go by then. Pain is a construct and your family is just a group of people that share DNA. Shades of gray have no meaning; the world is black and white.

Learn more about melanoma, the black ribbon cancer (yes, really) here.

In an effort not to end this post with bitterness I maybe should’ve rearranged these stories but I like to think of every blog post as a journey into my stream of consciousness, which is my favorite style of writing because you can have terrible transitions and no true message to your stories and it’s still fine.

It’s fine,

Megan

Posts to look out for: some product reviews, some sorority stuff I’ve been baking on for a while, vague promises to post more frequently with little follow through.

Last month in anythingforajoke: I Turned Twenty and All I Got I Got Was This Quarter-Life Crisis!