Sleepless in Holworthy

Today is Wednesday. I am halfway there. In a mere two days I will pull the shade down, turn the alarm off, and enter a state of consciousness hibernating bears would envy. I can almost feel my soft pillow...

For me, the slumber that is my Saturday morning is payment for my nocturnal brilliance. It is proof that one can seize the day; the whole day. Unfortunately, Saturday mornings blend into Saturday afternoons where the peace and relaxation of the weekend becomes overshadowed by the approaching workweek.

A glance at the pile of textbooks stacked high on my desk is a constant reminder that the never-ending cycle of work can only be ignored for a while. This cycle, work-sleep-work-work-don't -sleep-work-CRASH, seems an unavoidable and undesirable downward spiral, the end result of which remains mysterious.

This semester more than ever, I feel the burn. It comes in several forms: 1. That unpleasant haze in which I awake when the alarm goes off after what most people consider a short nap, not a night's rest. 2. That queasy after-lunch feeling that numbs even the most stimulating lectures. 3. That early evening slowdown, where everything works at about half speed until 11 p.m.

This quality of life issue generates a recurring thought: Why? Why and I choosing to do this, day after day, week after week?

With the demands and constraints imposed on our lives, it is easy for motivation to falter. This common problem for Harvard students, for whom life can turn into a big blur, is perpetuated by the very tempo at which we conduct our lives.

I find my agenda dominated by endless activities and classes, some of which seem only a necessary prerequisite for the future; an obligation determined by the narrow standards society defines as success. Sure, I love my E.P.S. class, but here goals and aspirations quickly turn into expectations and evaluations, so that life is but one continuous examination--a contest between human potential and sheer will.

In questioning the focus and tempo of my first year here, I am frightened by the realization that it is almost over. When I look back to see where all the time has gone, I can't seem to find it. So I ask, if high school graduation seems like yesterday, at what age will I find myself tomorrow?

The problem with life in the fast lane is that it might get us to the end sooner than we imagine. I recognize this tendency in my life, and want to change it. So I'm letting those textbooks sit a while longer. And I refuse to set my alarm on Saturday morning.