Lessons from my future self: past Chris knows nothing

If I were given the opportunity to reach back in time and strangle a younger, more naive version of myself, 19-year-old me would be gasping for air quicker than it took Twitter to explode over the government shutting down. Fact.

“Hey, freshman Chris,” I’ll yell while standing on top of a chair because I’m pretty sure my height has been the same since ninth grade and I need to be at a higher level to assert my maturity and dominance,“maybe if you weren’t so busy taking all of those naps you love so much, you wouldn’t have had to pull so many all-nighters. You ever think about that? How are you so tired when I’m pretty sure ninety percent of the time you’re only awake long enough to shower and consume food? You think you deserve a break? Ha! You’re too basic for a break!”

Then my freshman self would curl up into a ball and probably take a nap, because he wouldn’t have the time to deal with a scolding or insults that weren’t really around in 2011.

You see, as I sit here typing away on my keyboard, reevaluating every life choice I’ve ever made. I started at the time I was about eight-years-old, when—completely unaware of my uncle standing about five feet away from me—I thought it was a good idea to whip it out on my front porch and piss, quite literally, into the wind, and ended just last weekend when I watched my best friend projectile vomit into a towel before wiping himself off. He then started round two of drinking. I have realized that I am an idiot (surprisingly, neither of these examples are actually relevant to my epiphany…or this article).

Around this time two years ago I was nearing the midpoint of my freshmen year. Six weeks gone. Just like that. Actually, I’m not even sure if those six weeks happened or if I ever technically matriculated—I was too busy day-napping and pulling unnecessary all-nighters to be aware of my surroundings. Regardless, it was at the point where everyone started feeling a little bit antsy, when our stomachs stopped growling and started yelping for a taste of something actually decent instead of merely Deece-ent (Hahaha I’m totally the only person to ever think of this phrase), and when, above all, midterms had us longing for sleep (and the emotional support of our parents…or at least their liquor cabinets).

I remember feeling like I needed a break, deserved one, after all the hard work I had put in those first six weeks sleeping myself into a coma. “Wow, college is hard, guys, whodathunk? Guess I might as well close my eyes and wait for all this work to finish itself,” was pretty much my thought process every day around 4 p.m. And whenever I opened a book. And when I left class. And whenever I entered my room, pretty much.

It was so easy back then. But now as I sit here staring into the darkness of my room, wondering when I’ll next enjoy the luxury of seeing the inside of my eyelids for more than thirty minutes at a time (and if I’ll ever bother to turn on the lights), I’m left with enough anger to curb stomp the stupid out of my former self. I’ve basically determined that the universe is punishing me for excessive sleeping these last two years. According to my theory which I’ve researched on the Google search engine within my mind, you’re only allotted so many naps in your lifetime and once you’re out…well, looks like no more siestas for you. Because 19-year-old me couldn’t keep his eyelids open long enough to even finish a chapter, I’m paying the price. And I am indignant.

I guess it just amazes me at how I actually believed I didn’t have enough time to get anything done back then when all I had was time. I certainly took chunks of it out of my day to complain about the amount of pages I had yet to read or write (Pro-tip: actually doing your work gets it done faster than only talking about it. Fun fact: I didn’t have that realization until about an hour before I sat down to write this. Extra fun fact: writing a humor article to avoid doing  work basically sums up my life.) Anyway, from the way I acted, you would have thought that God had taken all of the clocks on earth and tossed them into outer space, leaving nothing but the positioning of the sun and the moon as indicators of time. But even if that were the case, I’m pretty sure I would have been too busy napping to know the difference.

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