Clarrisa Tan
The pitch darkness at 5 p.m. is the first sign of midterms season. Yet, instead of studying, I toss and turn in bed watching Instagram reels, spacing out mid-seminar and dreaming of the weekend. It’s no surprise that I repeat the words, “I should have taken a gap year” under my breath when I find that I can’t recall the discussion points of last seminar.
“Yes,” I affirm myself as I write this article instead of finishing my history readings or fixing my problem sets. “I should have taken a gap year and backpacked across Europe.”
It’s a phenomenon that we, as Yale students, occupy ourselves with in times of challenge. Math midterm tomorrow? Why don’t we dig ourselves into a rabbit hole of Reddit conspiracy theories? Final paper review session? I’d rather sleep in.
As students, it seems that the times where we need to be present are the times we find ourselves in a world that is as far as possible from our own. To my suitemate with a philosophy midterm tomorrow, this is a world where she must finish the last season of “Bridgerton” in the next 24 hours. To my peers in Chinese class, this is a world where going to BDs the night before an oral presentation is imperative. To say the least, it appears that we as Yale students seek solace in our procrastination. By digging ourselves deeper into holes of sleep deprivation and unfinished work, we find ourselves so far underground that we forget the troubled world we once broke ground on.
Here lies the Holy Trinity, the foundations of our academic downfall during the midterm season: daydreaming, doom-scrolling and deep diving. These are the vices that prevent us from locking in. But what is it about these imperfect coping mechanisms that have an allure?
In these final weeks of fall, I have been enamored with the bright blue skies and nearly bare trees with auburn tones. When I stare out the window in calculus, my thoughts do not relate to the lesson but my plans after class. I think of how warming it must feel to sip a coffee in Beinecke Plaza, or where my friends and I may have dinner that night.
In the late hours of Thursday evening, my roommate grows frantic upon the creeping deadline of her Directed Studies essay. As the minutes grow closer and closer to midnight, my phone pings with the inevitably hilarious TikToks she needs to share with me instantaneously. In the smile that lights up her eyes when she looks across the room for my reaction to the video she has sent me, Sofia endures a fleeting intermission from her essay that retorts Augustine and Kant back to her.
Once my brother has ended our nightly phone call to work on his spreadsheets, he texts me a link to buy tickets to an event that weekend. Following that, I receive a digital collage of articles, videos and itineraries for our apparent Europe trip in 2025. I instantly know that my dear brother has dove deep into an internet whirlpool of travel. His Excel sheets will not be settled for the night.
With just four weeks to cap off the semester, my life feels infused with moments of daydreaming, doom-scrolling and deep diving. I tell myself to snap out of it, lock back in and focus up. Having the opportunity to learn at Yale does not entail procrastination and distraction! But really, what is life without a little fantasy in our hypothetical gap year that never happened? What would a college student be without their immense talent in pulling off assignments last minute? Most of all, what is a Yale student without their niche interests sparked upon late-night dives of the internet? The answer is nothing. When we undergo these moments of imperfection, we embrace our humanity. So yes, perhaps I “should have taken a gap year” — or maybe, in my small escapes and procrastinations, I already have.