When I was in school there was a thing called a ‘senior slide’. The concept here, in case you don’t know, is that when the end is in sight, you slack off work and take a lackadaisical, carefree, ‘you do it’ attitude towards everything.
I used to employ this attitude at most times of the year. Typically it started after the first month of school and would last until everyone else would start slacking – around Christmas, before summer holiday. Surprisingly, it took me 6 years to graduate college.
But some years ago, something quite frankly rude happened. I decided (again, rudely) that my holiday (summer, Christmas, etc) would be better if I did my scheduled work before them and not after them. I don’t know when this awful change in my personality occurred, but it’s a personality failing I regret.
Tomorrow I am leaving for the Adriatic coast of Italy. I have twelve days of pasta, seafood, wine, and lounging to look forward to. And yet, for some reason, I have holed myself up to work on projects that need attention before I go.
This wouldn’t bother me so much if it weren’t for two things. First, I’m supposed to live in the moment, be present, live my life, follow the deep philosophical entreaties of YOLO and “dude, fuck it.” And I’m not. I’m anxious and obsessed. This makes me decidedly less cool than I used to be. Assuming I was then. Second, it’s so nice outside. The beer gardens are calling me, the wine gardens are calling me, gardens are calling me. And yet I hunch over my computer and work and write.
I press myself forth with the knowledge that in something like 20 hours I’ll be on a flight to Italy, my belt will be loosened and I will reject no beer in the airport. Moreover, this allows me to preach the rules of preparedness to my students. And I do this a lot. So you can imagine how much they love me. “Do your work early and you can relax later.”
I think this is great advice. They think I’m a dick. We’re probably both right, but them more than me. I come clean about my subpar undergrad career. I want them to avoid the same past.
I suppose I’m worrying the death of my old self here and there. Though the days when I was unprepared, lazy, and lackadaisical make me shudder now, the fact that they are gone and I am a different person does dearly imply the passage of time. What an asshole.
And what if I had a chance to run back about 30 years and have a little convo with the boy on senior slide at every opportunity. I’d tell him: Hey, dumbo, get your work done now and you’ll enjoy things more. I’d go about some arguments and make some points, then I’ll point to a future of a dragging start, to being crippled out of the gate. But if I know me, I would just look at myself now, wondering vaguely why this old version of myself (better looking) was burying me in advice I don’t want and my young self would look at me and say, “Come on, fuck it dude.”
