Bethel University - Spire Yearbook (St Paul, MN)

Page 24 text:

PROCRAS IINATION AGAIN Six forty five AM. announced itself via Clen Campbell and Southern Nights full volume on my clock-radio. From beneath institutional-white sheets, a 98 degree electric blanket, and a mountain of text books came a moan of disbelief. By the chorus of the song our subject was snoring again. It was not until unreasonable roommates began shouting that I rolled from my artificially-heated nest into the cold, stark reality of morning. I completed the every day miracles of bathing in my sleep and applying mascara with both eyes closed. At 7:45 I was shocked to find my weary body on a bus heading toward New Campus.. and the Library. Procrastination was about to be opposed. Final deadline for my research paper didn't fall till 4:30 that afternoon. No more fooling around. I told myself sternly. Today you are going to choose your topic and get that thing written! There would be no visits to Doc's Corner. Breakfast was out of the question. And today, the number of hopeful sojourns made daily to my P.O. would decrease. Sitting in the drafty interior of the bus I felt sufficiently sorry for myself. I savored the titles Martyr and Saint for a delicious, dramatic moment. With arms stretched around an impressive mound of LRC thrillers. Existentialism and the Modern Man among them. I began an unaccustomed journey toward the Bethel library. Midway between the coat racks and the drinking fountains, my assertive strides halted. I listened nervously. Doughnuts, Coffee, Socialization ... I recognized the familiar call that drifted up the gym stairs from the Coffee Shop. Nope. I answered. Today I am not procrastinating. I am writing an 'A' paper. An amazed passerby stared. I smiled proudly at my courageous words, but my posture drooped as I thought of the impossibility of holding a caramel roll in my hand My feet took two rapid, brave steps toward the intellectually-stimulating domain of the library Steaming tea. Toasted English muffins . . . continued the voice coaxingly. My confident arms trembled slightly as I opened the gym doors Doughnuts and sweet rolls pummel-ed a nose caught unaware. I heard a chorus of carefree Bethelites moan in epicurean ecstasy over theii leisurely breakfasts My paper, I thought. I have to v rite a paper. Tomato juice ... muffins The voice paused for the climatic addition, a waffle. A crazed smile emerged from behind a coffee cup. An arm curved joyously about a butter-dripping waffle. The battle with procrastination was lost again. SHELLY NIELSEN