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Procrastination
By Colin Tobin
It’s yet another slow Sunday afternoon with barely anything left to do for the day. I sit at my desk with my computer open, thinking about the upcoming week. It’s about 4 o’clock in the afternoon and my assignment stares at me from the center of blue light. From my chair, I can see the bright blue, cloudless sky and the golden sunshine reflecting off of the tree branches and buildings around me. My thoughts are flooded by several different things as I struggle to focus on just one. I cannot be bothered to worry about the things I still need to do; there’s still so much time left in the day. Instead, I decide to look at my phone for a while to see if anything has changed in the world since I last checked ten minutes ago. As I suspected, there is not really anything new or interesting for me to see online.
The thought of going back to work on the paper still seems daunting. I put away my phone and decide to open the same application on my computer as if that will make any difference. The sun is going down. My assignment sits untouched. “It definitely won’t take any time at all,” I think to myself, “I doubt it’ll take me more than half an hour”. Besides, refreshing and scrolling through Twitter and Instagram over and over again is more interesting than whatever I need to work on.
Glancing out the window again, the sky has turned a shade of indigo. Streetlights have turned on. I convince myself that any work I must do can wait until after dinner. “Who can possibly be expected to do work on an empty stomach?” I ask myself. It’s only 7:30 so I shut my computer and go get food. There is still plenty of time left in the day. I put on my shoes and my jacket and head out the door. Going outside and walking along the brick paths gives me a brief mental escape. A cool breeze blows as I get closer to the dining hall to pick up a meal. Tonight, I figure I should get takeout, considering I still need to finish that assignment. Working on it while eating could be a smart use of time.
***
Luckily, I get to Lowry before the big evening rush to the dining hall. I am quick to grab my to-go token and ask for my meal of a cheeseburger with fries to be boxed up. In a matter of a few minutes, I’m back out in the crisp air, heading back to my room. It’s the time of night when all of the streetlamps have turned on. I try to extend the final moments that I am outside before the undefined amount of time that I will be working. The leaves rustle as two black squirrels chase after each other across the grass and run up the trunk of a tree. I begrudgingly open up the door to my hall and walk back inside.
I’ve made my way back to my room after that short, twenty-minute trip. I’m pretty hungry, but I decide to take a look at my computer again, for old time’s sake. Work is the thing that should be on my mind right now, but with that in mind, I pull up an episode of the show that I’m watching and start eating. It would probably be too hard to use a fork and type at the same time anyway. Another notification pops up on my phone once I’m done. It’s a funny video that one of my friends found while endlessly scrolling, just like me. Once again, I’m back to checking the same couple of apps over and over in a cycle, not entirely sure what I’m looking for. The sky is a shade of purple that is a tint away from black. An old street lamp that has turned a shade of orange shines into my room. As I sit there, slouched down into my chair, I hear a voice in my head say, “Hey, don’t you have something to do?”
By now, the sky is pitch black and I blankly stare at my screen. I find myself to be fidgeting around in my chair, unable to get comfortable. My legs restlessly shift around and I crack my knuckles. The blank document before me is numbing to the senses, like a fresh blanket of snow that has erased discernible details from a hillside. My phone lights up with a notification and I quickly pick it up again. I read more about mildly interesting current events and the impassioned thoughts of faceless strangers. The digital clock to my right reads 11 pm. My assignment sits untouched. Now I must get to work.
***
My half-asleep brain and fast typing skills get to work as I rush to fill up this blank, white abyss with some smart-sounding words. I look up to the top right-hand corner of my screen every once in a while, to make sure that I still have enough time. Isn’t there a saying that “diamonds are made under pressure?” In one of the few short breaks I give myself to let my brain recuperate, I take a moment to realize the stillness of everything around me. Outside in the now freezing temperatures, it seems as though time has been put on pause. Every so often, a gust of wind blows, shaking the branches of the tree to remind me that time is, in fact, continuing to move forward. The sparse patches of snow that still remain from days before sparkle in the light of the moon overhead. It all appears so quiet and peaceful out there while my brain is caught in a whirlwind.
I snap out of that thought to get back to reality, where the collection of words I have typed out are far from a masterpiece. The need to be overwhelmingly focused overcomes my other senses as the clock slowly ticks closer to the deadline of 11:59 pm. There is increasingly intense pain in my temples as I realize the seriousness of my current circumstances. All of the spelling and grammatical errors will have to wait until the end to fix. Right now, I cannot afford to stop before getting these thoughts onto the page before I forget them. After a long stretch of nonstop typing, I look back at all of the red squiggly lines that I left unfixed in my efforts to finish on time. One by one, they are removed and corrected by the guardian angel known as autocorrect.
I do a quick proofread to see if it all makes sense. It seems like this is a situation that I’ve become way too comfortable being in. It’s not my best work, but at least it’s done. I quickly navigate to the site where it needs to be submitted. After a few seconds of upload time, this excruciating, elongated, time-consuming, distraction-filled evening can finally come to an end and a burden can be lifted from my shoulders. At last, I have relief and nothing else to worry about for the rest of the night. It’s not even that late, yet I’m ready to fall face-first onto my bed.
One month visit
by Naol Hulufe
Seven thousand, seven hundred forty-seven miles away from her for six years, the only way I was in touch with her was through a phone call once every two to three weeks. And that was only possible when their service was good, which was rare in the city of Assela, Ethiopia. She was my angel, my life, and most importantly the best grandmother any human being could ask for. She was a well-known person: first, for being the only daughter of her father, who was a great Oromo warrior and one of the best horsemen during the First Italo-Ethiopian war, which is also known as the Battle of Adwa; and second for her generosity and devotion to help those in need.
While her story is long and is only documented orally, in June 2018, I had the opportunity to interview her for a short amount of time due to health issues she was facing at that moment. This visit was intended to be a vacation for my family and myself. However, as I was packing my bags for the flight, I was determined to spend as much time as possible with her. She left everything she had in the countryside behind and moved to the city to take care of her grandkids.
On the day of the flight, the childhood memories I had with her started flashing through my mind. While packing, I started to reminisce about those childhood memories and I was impatient to see her. On the flight day, I couldn’t wait for the plane to take off already and land.
Flying back over the same ocean and land that I had first flown over six years ago felt thrilling: this time, instead of heading into an unknown continent, I knew exactly where I was heading, and I knew who was waiting for me in my homeland. This time I knew exactly where I was heading, and I knew who was waiting for me on the other side of the world. I was excited and my eyes were sparkling out of joy like the stars in the sky. The flight felt so long even though I had traveled this path once before. Beforehand, I googled the total travel time from Atlanta to Addis Ababa. The result said, “17 hours and 45 minutes with 1 stop,” which was the same as the flight my family booked. When I looked at the time on the screen in front of my plane seat, it said, “landing in Addis Ababa in 15 hours.” I couldn’t believe there were 15 hours left to land. I felt like I had already flown 20 hours, but it had only been 2 hours. At that point, I gave up and stopped checking at the time, instead, I started watching a movie to distract myself from my eagerness to land in Ethiopia.
After flying overseas for nearly 18 hours, which felt like 48 hours, I was there. As soon as I saw her, tears rushed down my cheeks and I ran towards her and hugged her as tight as I could. At that point, someone behind me said, “Don’t kill her now, she’s too old for that kind of hug.” I smiled and let loose. Everyone greeted one another, which itself took about 20 minutes due to the amount of family members who came from different parts of the country to welcome us back. After six years of being apart, I had the privilege to see my favorite person and was able to visit the city I was born in.
She used to call me Tahir, which is an Arabic name which means “pure” or “virtuous”. She was the only person who called me that. We talked about how she used to call me in for a quick snack while I was out playing with my friends. And I mentioned to her how she would invite other kids to come and eat as well. I mentioned to her how she was very protective of me and never let me leave her sight. We talked about how I used to walk her to the mosque and how she would ask me to lead her in a prayer when I was a child.
It was during this visit that I was able to find a true meaning to what happiness is and how one can find happiness in small things. It was during this time, that I was able to understand how I wanted to live my life, which was to cherish small moments. Within that journey, my grandmother was the person that sparked such a realization. Before coming back to the United States, which was the last time I saw her, I asked her what advice she has for me and she simply said, “be there for those who are in need and love others as you love yourself. And my dear Tahir, most importantly live your life to the fullest no matter what you end up doing.” That made me think a lot about how I have lived my life and it got me questioning how one can truly live up to that principle. At that moment, I realized that she was the true example of that exact advice because she truly has lived up to that.
Within that one-month visit, I learned a lot more about myself and how I wanted to live my life from here on. I spent every day of that month reliving most of my childhood memories and laughing with my favorite person and family members. I took pictures with my relatives, visited my favorite childhood places with my childhood friends, and got the opportunity to spend time with my grandmother who I was extremely excited to see.
Her name was Faayoo Hamdaa, but I used to call her Aayyoo, an Afaan Oromo version of grandma. Due to the lack of a birth certificate, her exact age was unknown, which is the case for most Ethiopian senior citizens. However, she estimated her age to be around 94. She passed away around the age of 95.
Coffee Ceremony
by Alegnta Mezmur
It all began with a single cup. Born and raised in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, I had the Ethiopian Coffee Ceremony bestowed upon me at birth. Not only on me but the whole country. It is a cultural ritual that is passed down from generation to generation and from household to household. It symbolizes unity, hospitality, and spiritual blessings. It is considered one of the most important social gatherings. When you are invited to someone’s home as a guest, right after they provide you with a meal, the coffee ceremony will proceed as you converse with your host and other guests. It is a sign of respect and hospitality to offer coffee or tea to your guest after a meal or on any type of occasion. There is a saying in Amharic (Ethiopia’s official language) that if you don’t, your ancestors will be rolling their eyes from their deathbeds.
It is quite a lengthy process as we observe raw, unwashed coffee beans being processed into finished cups of coffee. However, time is a blur when it comes to the ceremony because it sparks such good conversation that you don’t even realize that two, three, or maybe even four hours have passed. It unites the community as one as the conversations vary in their topics. Some gossip about their day-to-day shenanigans and some sit down and talk about politics, old stories, and so much more. The art and value behind the making of coffee hold a special place in my heart and in that of many others. The ceremony usually takes place three times each day (once in the morning, once at noon, and once in the evening). However, they are the short versions of the ceremony as it depends on the household. When it comes to special occasions such as holidays, the ceremony is emphasized and takes a bigger form.
It begins with the preparation of the room. Throughout the room, fresh grass and flowers are spread, incense such as frankincense and sandalwood are burned. The whole room is fogged up with its aroma and coffee trays with small traditional cups are set up along with snacks such as popcorn and kolo (roasted grain mix).
Now, raw coffee beans are washed and placed on a wok-like pan over hot coals. The host stirs and shakes the pan, so the debris and husk are out of the beans and through that process, the coffee slowly roasts and fills the room with its powerful aroma.
Once it is roasted, the host will walk around the room and stop at each guest, holding the pan in front of their nose while shaking it. The host first goes to the eldest in the room and then descends as a sign of respect and in response, the guest blesses the host or whoever is going around the room. The guests get to smell the beans and get swept off of their feet with its strong aroma.
After the guests are done the beans are ground with a pestle and mortar then added to the Jebena (round-bottomed, black clay coffee pot) with water and are placed on the hot coals. Once the coffee is brewed, the host carefully pours it into the small cups and fills it up until the cup is full.
Although I am not able to partake in the whole process of the Ethiopian Coffee ceremony, I attempt to bring parts of it to the College of Wooster. The process of making it makes me feel as if I am home, so I partake in it at least twice a week.
A Day in the Life of a College Student-Athlete (Covid-19 Edition)
by Maddie Cambier
It’s 8:45 a.m. and my alarm blares full blast right in my ear. I roll over and can see the bright sun shining through the blinds. I roll back and check my phone and contemplate sleeping through my first class – which is especially easy now that it’s online. I remember the exam I have coming up, so I force myself out of my warm, comfortable bed and quickly get ready for class. My roommate is still sleeping, so I am careful to be quiet.
I groggily climb down from my lofted bed and sit at my desk that I moved underneath it. I check the time and see that I have five minutes before my class starts, so I log onto my computer and open Microsoft Teams. I see that my Professor has already started the meeting, so I join and quickly get my notebook out. He talks way too fast for 9:15 in the morning! I take sloppy, rushed notes until around 10:05.
I do my hair and leave my dorm room, making sure I have everything I need for the day. I begin the short (but seemingly long) walk to my first in-person class of the day. I’m excited to have somewhat of a normal college experience because I know not everyone has in-person classes, so I try to make the most of it. I hear pieces of muffled conversations as I walk past the other rooms in my hall.
Once I get to the stairs, I remember my fear of heights and walk as far away from the railing as possible. This is the only time I don’t like living on the third floor. The three flights of stairs I have to climb up and down every day are brutal. Especially after practices! The stairs in Bornhuetter are restricted to up and down on opposite sides of the building, but no one ever follows those rules.
As soon as I am outside, the cool, crisp air wakes me up. I forgot to check the weather and assumed it would be a lot warmer than it was. The cars rush past me on the road to my left, and I feel the wind hit me after they pass. Occasionally, people will yell out of their car windows – but I’m used to it by now. This is definitely the longest part of my walk. Sometimes, the tennis team is practicing as I walk by and I can wave to my friends.
As I walk up through the arch, I enter my favorite part of campus. My class is here. I love looking at the sculptures and statues along the way. I also enjoy seeing other students coming and going to and from their classes. As I walk, I listen to my shoes hitting the pavement. I follow that rhythm until I reach the building where I have my first in-person class.
I enter the building for my first class. It is by far my favorite and most interesting class I am taking this semester! I also absolutely adore this professor. I make sure I am fully awake as I walk in the building, to learn and comprehend as much as possible. My mentality immediately begins to shift and I begin to focus before I even reach my classroom.
After my class, I go to Knowlton café, where I get a coffee and get some homework done before my next class. The other students around me are also studying and doing their work. Focused and determined looks appear on all of their faces as they read their next questions or take their notes. The amount of natural light that soaks in from the large windows makes me happy as I continue to do my work.
After doing some homework and attending my last class of the day, I walk back through the arch. I hear the same rhythm of my shoes hitting the pavement. It’s getting cooler and the wind is picking up; I think it might rain. I hurriedly make my way towards the library to study with some friends.
At the library, I am able to find a little nook where I can properly focus with minor distractions. I set my bag down and pull out a book that I have to read for one of my classes. For some reason, I am able to focus so well whenever I go to the library. It’s like magic! I easily complete three assignments before I check the time. I realize it’s almost time for practice. I quickly pack up my supplies and say “goodbye” to my friends.
As I walked over to the Scot Center from across the street, I begin to shift my mentality into “practice mode,” focusing on what coach wants us to do for practice. This semester, we are required to show a badge that says we are “good to go” for the day. Without this, we can’t enter the Scot Center. I also go here to get my weekly Covid-19 tests. I am eager for next year when we might not have to take all of these precautions.
After changing in the locker room, I head out to the soccer field with my teammates. This is by far the best part of my day. I get to focus on something other than schoolwork, and I also get to play the sport that I love! Soccer is a great way for me to relieve stress and exercise. I am also extremely grateful that I am able to continue playing in college. Although practices are two hours long, they seem to fly by, and soon I am on my way back to my dorm.
Walking back to my dorm room, I veer off onto a new path and take in the oak trees that greet me. I think of the fall and how pretty they all are when the leaves are changing. I noticed some new buds on the branches, and I become excited for summer. I continue my walk to class and listen to the birds chirping and singing their songs around me. A wave of calmness rushes over me and I am content.