Keep in mind: full schedules are shared by many

Brady C. Mallory

Brady C. Mallory

As a collective student body, we seem to have more stressors as each semester continues. We must juggle classes, work, extracurricular activities, a social life, not to mention deal with the everyday annoyances that have the headache-inducing capabilities of a new Jennifer Aniston movie. A typical day for me consists of five hours of the same professor, homework and UPC, followed by feigning politeness to irrelevant customers at my place of employment, which all culminates in two hours at the gym so my body can boast a superiority that others do not have. Throw in my status as a campus celebrity, and you have a very tired Brady at the end of the week.

I have found myself with a growing lack of free time, which is probably why I was unceremoniously relieved of my presidential duties of South Dakota’s chapter of the Tori Spelling fan club. I am sure my wife and child, if they existed, are getting irrationally upset that I have missed not one, but three youth basketball games. I do not get nearly enough sleep, which surely accounts for the fact that I cannot stop yelling at strangers who do not address me as Mr. Mallory.

In a sea of young professionals, my story does not stand out. For every busy person I know, and trust me, I know a lot of people, there is another unknown person on campus who fights to stay awake each day to complete mounting tasks. For this reason, I usually roll my eyes at the passive-aggressive moron who exasperatedly whines, “Oh my God, I am so busy, you don’t even know.” This is where I take a moment to reflect on the life of this person in order to understand them and perhaps offer them some form of sympathy. I then remember that I have none.

I know this guy who is seemingly an 80-year-old man trapped in the body of a twenty-something. He is constantly complaining of fatigue as well as achy joints. The latter lament has a coolness factor because it subsequently results in some form of precipitation. He constantly is shaking his head while bemoaning to others about the pseudo-perils of his busy life. I am no math major, which is evident by my upcoming cameo in a production I like to call College Algebra part 3, but something is not adding up. I am under the impression that his days are filled with gas station pizza and Cartoon Network, so how is his body paralyzed with alleged aches and pains? Granted, I have been known to take out an entire pizza, but not quite with the tenacity that would result in a sprained fibula.

I think people in general are looking for some sort of validation from others as well as themselves. I have to wonder if voicing our inner skirmish is an effort to help ourselves feel more useful and accomplished. Presenting faux burnout could also equate some form of dominance in the vein of a dog marking its territory. Perhaps this guy’s complaints are the proverbial lifting of the leg in order to let everyone around him know he is superior. I would say his lack of ability to pronounce three-syllable words proves otherwise.

I am of the belief that as college students, we are all in a four-year boot camp that tests our abilities to multi-task, as well as process social and scholastic elements which are preparatory for our pending careers. Before you make the mistake of assuming that you are somehow the only one in the world with a full schedule, I must earnestly beseech you to remember others and not prove that you are a tool.