suppliedSchool is a shit ton of work.
The ever-present stress of university is nothing new. It’s as synonymous with the university experience as spilling shitty coffee on yourself or never reading The Gateway for four years straight. But the underlying reason is why we’re here is somewhat obvious. Beneath it all, you are (most likely) here to equip yourself with the advanced skills necessary to not die a painful death due to poverty in a fucked up system crafted by shitty baby boomers. I get it.
But should we resolve ourselves to a faith of multi-year white-hot dreadfulness? Hell no! Think of it as a small if slightly pleasant way to stick it to the man. Sure, you’re spending thousands and thousands of dollars, as well as years of your life you’ll never get back, but you’re going to have a few fun nights while you do it, goddamn it.
By all means though, don’t be a fucking idiot about it. One of the most baffling stories I know is a friend of a friend who joined a frat in his first year of engineering. While already a terrible idea in itself, this dude decided early on he was only going to lounge around and party non-stop. Predictably, this smart and cool guy was proof that you could somehow end up with a 0.20 GPA. Don’t do that.
On the other end of the spectrum, I’ve seen dozens of incredibly intelligent and devoted friends burn themselves the hell out while pursuing an elusive A+. Sacrificing sleep, mental health, any sort of relationship not involving another sad engineering student, and the chance to make some lasting memories. Thinking if this is a worthwhile trade-off is up to you to decide.
For me, that choice is as easy. I asked myself how I’d want to remember these fleeting years, and surprisingly enough, devoting 100 per cent of my time towards getting a disgustingly high GPA was not one of them. Also, let me preface this by saying that obviously this thought process won’t work for everyone. If you’re torturing your mind and body so you can get into med-school or something please continue to be millions of times more devoted than me. You will deserve every ounce of appreciation or self-fulfillment when I am dying and I need you. But I digress.
One of the main ways I distract myself from the looming fear or midterms, assignments, failure, etc., is through live music. So much live music. Unfortunately for most of us, some of the best sets have a tendency to happen at the most inconvenient times. One of these was a Yukon Blonde and Belle Game show this past April. It perfectly lined with a somewhat important quiz and some assignments. As if the world was telling me to go fuck myself.
This is where the decision of importance needs to be made. Do you stay home and stare at your textbook and the same formulas and weird-ass diagrams which have dumbfounded you all semester? Or do you convince yourself to see two of your all-time favourite bands?
I haven’t thought about the contents of that exam once since then. Haven’t once needed to recall the dozens of thermodynamic process ‘enthalpy vs. temperature’ charts I had to memorize. Haven’t even needed them for the four Co-op terms I’ve completed. Sure, I’ll probably need to relearn that shit for some future class. But that is beside the point.
I haven’t thought about that class since then but I think about that crazy fucking night surprisingly often. A couple friends and I walked to the downtown venue from Whyte Ave after class. It was a beautiful day, and the air was filled with both the excitement of seeing these bands and the carefreeness that washes over you when you procrastinate.
In short, the show was amazing. Probably one of the best I’ve seen in the past few years. Everything was so, I don’t know, weirdly perfect? Maybe it was the alcohol. Whatever. The point is that the last thing on my mind was the homework I wasn’t doing. The few hours of work that mattered so little to the outcome of that class. I even drunkenly asked Belle Game if I could interview them sometime and they let me. So that’s even cooler.
After setting off to walk our drunk asses back across the river, I repeatedly went on to lose my friends as one does. The usual weird shit happened. Someone tripped on a piece of metal at the legislature grounds and destroyed their glasses, while another friend with an affinity for climbing decided he was Spiderman and scaled various buildings he very well should not have (including a construction crane but that one was cool).
I wish I could recount more of this story and in greater detail but I can’t remember a lot. You know how it goes.
I guess this is my longwinded way of saying something simple—I’m going to remember that stupid night for a long, long time. It’s something I can laugh about when I’ve left all of these godawful classes behind. Something I can recall over and over while I inevitable forget most of the wildly technical crap I learnt.
It’s ok to push a few things aside and take the hit. It’s ok to fuck around. If you’re smart about it, I can almost guarantee you’ll end with a much more positive and fulfilling outlook on your university career as a whole. Maybe each of your days won’t be as painful as your 4.0 GPA counterparts’.
For fuck’s sake though, do the bare minimum and go to class.
