Whether we like it or not, college students are creatures of habit who thrive on routine. We make some bad choices; we live in the name of fun and even the most debilitating hangover cannot stop us.
During our four wonderful years of college, we march to the same drum, are victims to our own guilty pleasures day in and day out, and dread graduation day.
College is the only place where drinking excessively, smoking a pack a day, eating Domino’s at 4 a.m. and skipping class in order to nurse a hangover are part of the daily grind.
Although I have grown as an individual over the past four years, I have decidedly not been freed from my bad habits.
I came to college as a smoker, tossed around the idea of quitting a few times, but after one, two-week stint over the summer sans cigarettes, I felt more naked than healthy.
My entire routine would be thrown off track if I couldn’t step outside the BCC, an exam or a beach party to have a moment alone with my security blanket of cigarettes.
After all, it is comfort we seek, and familiar people, places and activities that give us a sense of security. While relationships are nearly impossible to find in college, everyone wants a significant other to be a part of their pattern.
Weekly episodes with this person are just enough to get a fix, just enough to make you feel complete, but not enough to take the attention off of the routine.
We won’t let anything into our daily lives that could potentially disrupt our habitual behavior and whatever pattern we have formed for ourselves.
Freshman year, I learned quickly that the weekend began on Thursday and that I go out, always. It doesn’t matter if I have a test on Friday morning, anticipate throwing up in Canisius, or have a hangover that leaves me comatose for 12 hours, it’s part of my week.
It’s outrageous to think that after four years, I would forgo drinking the night before a test. Almost as outrageous as going to bed at a decent hour, with an empty stomach, because it just doesn’t feel like a night out without the comfort of greeting the delivery guy, a trip to the diner or a late-night adventure through the freezers and shelves of 7-Eleven.
Getting a good night’s rest is a high school throwback, as is actually going to class in the morning. In college, an administrator won’t call home if you miss too many classes and your parents can’t yell at you for playing hooky. So, you are free to go to the beach, sleep in and go shopping during class time if you choose.
However, tally those absences with caution, because the nice beach day will turn into the gloomy rainy day, which will eventually become “I just don’t feel like going.”
I avoid failing the final exam by storing the number of at least one classmate for each class, because since day one of my routine, I learned that skipping class is not just a one-time thing.
Why I continue to cling to my bad habits, I do not know. All I know is that I am addicted to my routine, and as long as there are no immediate consequences, I’ll keep living.
It’s not like any of the aforementioned habits are that terrible; it’s not like everyone doesn’t set up the same annoying pattern for themselves.
While I despise my bad habits, I love that they aren’t going anywhere. Although I’m stuck in a rut, and I complain about it, you will never see me try all that hard to get out.
Graduation will come soon enough, where smoking is immature, the weekend begins on Friday, everyone wants to settle down, lunch dates replace late night feasts with friends and skipping work could get you fired.
Until May, my life will never skip a beat because breaking the pattern now is as impossible as lifting a keg with one hand – it just cannot be done.
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