Whether I like to admit it or not, I am very much the type of person to overthink. As an Honors business student with many responsibilities, I tend to rely heavily on set schedules, definitive answers, and clear outcomes. And if anything begins to come undone, my composure seems to slowly unravel as well. A plethora of what-ifs overshadows the detailed plans that were once finalized in my mind. Everything could go wrong, right?
Whether he likes to admit it or not, one of my closest friends is very much the type of person to oversimplify. As an Honors pre-med student with many responsibilities, he tends to go with the flow. And if anything begins to come undone, his composure stays fixed, slowly accepting what comes his way as is. Why worry when everything could still go right?
After coming back from a long winter break, it can be difficult to settle back into your college life for the spring semester. You might be working to understand the structure of your courses, ranging from note-taking techniques to exam schedules. Or shifting your job schedule to work around weekly class times. Or trying to at least somewhat normalize your sleep habits. Or maybe, you’re struggling with all of the above.
This semester, along with a rigorous course load, I will be returning to my positions as a Peer Consultant at the Career Center, Treasurer for the Indian Student Association, and Secretary for Active Minds. In addition to those leadership roles, I continue to be an active member of Women in Business, the Accounting Students Association, and of course, the ever-engaging Honors blog. I’m sure that many of you, if not all, can relate to the endless accumulation of things to do that constantly flows through these types of schedules. For me, each semester starts off frantically as I try to figure out how to efficiently manage all of my different roles and responsibilities. And for me, the key is organization.
As a freshman here at UD, I still remember what it was like to tour campus for the first time and fall in love with the tree-lined brick pathways enclosing the Green. In fact, I loved it so much that I came back for a second tour—and then a third, self-guided walk around campus—and the students I encountered on these three separate occasions all gave similar praise regarding the community I would soon become a part of. However, there was another commonality between each of these visits: every student I talked to, it seemed, had something to say about the train.
Whether it was a warning to leave earlier than I thought I needed to for class lest I get stuck at the tracks or a general statement about the inconvenience of having to wait for it to pass by, my tour guides never failed to mention something about that doggone train. Even during the first week of my fall semester, both RAs I toured campus with—because yes, I was that freshman who went on multiple tours during move-in—made some snide remark as we passed over the tracks. Despite not yet having seen the infamous train for myself, I loathed it already. I dreaded our inevitable first meeting and I scowled at the thought of having some big, ugly mass of rusted steel standing between me and a good meal on Main Street. It took a few weeks, but I did eventually encounter the legendary beast—and the experience was not at all how I imagined it.
As I stood there, mere feet away from the tracks as the thing hurtled past at whatever insane speed a freight train usually travels, I remember all of my previously held angst fading away into pure, unadulterated awe. I felt my eyes widen and my heartbeat quicken, as is typical when you’re standing next to something you know could absolutely destroy you in an instant and keep going as if nothing ever happened, that is, should you foolishly ignore the signage and get too close. And with the ground shaking beneath my feet and the shrill screeching of metal-on-metal ringing in my ears, all I could seem to think in that moment was: Wow, this is epic.
These are unprecedented times with loads of uncertainty, whether that be with grades, work, relationships, or home life. Everything has been up in the air. If you’re like me, you’ve been feeling “bleh” a lot recently, mostly from our situations right now. Like many others, online schooling has taken a toll on my mental health, so finding the positives in this trying time has been super important. At this current point in the semester, staying motivated might seem super difficult, but it’s not impossible. Continue reading
I was warned multiple times before starting college to not make too many commitments so as to make the transition from high school to university life easier. I took the message to heart, reminding myself the importance of saying “no” throughout the summer.
Next thing I knew, fall semester arrived, and I basically forgot everything.
Currently, I am a reporter for The Review; participate in QUEST, Blue Hen Leadership Program, and Delaware Diplomats; work an internship; and pursue an Honors course load in order to fulfill credits for 2 majors and a minor.
Oh yeah, and I write for 186 South College.
Some might say I’m doing too much, even amid the present digital circumstances. Perhaps I would be, if I didn’t subscribe to the philosophy of “More Cowbell.”
For the select percentage of readers who have no clue as to the reference I’m making (i.e., if “More Cowbell” doesn’t ring a bell), there exists an SNL gem featuring the legendary likes of Will Ferrell and Christopher Walken that centers on (you guessed it) the emperor of percussion— nay, all—instruments: the almighty cowbell.
In it, Blue Öyster Cult records “Don’t Fear the Reaper” (on the off chance you haven’t heard this song before, kindly climb out from that rock you’ve been living under and give it a listen. Now.) What ensues are multiple debates as to the degree of cowbell the song necessitates. Continue reading