Night of the Living Deadline

You can tell by campus’ collective baggy eyes and the sudden increase in the library’s population that deadline season is upon us once again.

Sure, for much of the year, most of us first and second years can attempt to wing it in seminars and formative essays with not many repercussions. But no longer. We despair as the cosy bubble of alcohol-fuelled denial has been punctured by the needle of perspective; the toxic undercurrent that whispers reminders at us that we might have come to university for intellectual prowess as opposed to carefree hedonism.

While I’m sure that all of us to some degree lament this time of year, I for one achieve some kind of subverted enjoyment from it. ‘Actually doing work’ gives me that nostalgic thrill of being back in my A-Level class room; it helps me recall those innocent times when I sat down, did an essay and dreamt of going to a decent university.

No matter how much I whinge about how irritating it is to exert some form of academic effort, it’s that idea that grounds me: I’m in higher education and I’m lucky to be here. Going out is undoubtedly a wonderful way to waste time here, but, though I hate to say it, as students, it’s not our prerogative.

So, we are left with two options: procrastinate (my preferred methods are http://www.sporcle.com/ and http://www.mousebreaker.com/; apologies if I just ruined your chances of a 2.1) or buckle down, write something above average and hand in, days before you have to.

Who knows, you just might learn something…