"Whenever you feel like wasting your time, think of your GPA.
Think of getting those good grades. Better yet, think of not getting those good
grades. Imagine, if you will, a hypothetical situation: You spend all your time on facebook, twitter,
gmail and fartin' around on the internet. You stop doing your homework. You
quit studying. You start getting C's and D's and F's. At first you think you
can recover-- you can BS yourself out of it. You’re really smart, right? But
it’s a slippery slope: eventually the titanic pile of backlog overwhelms you,
and not even the fabled gods of procrastination and caffeine can save you. You
lose your scholarship. You drop out of school with over $50,000 in debt and
little to no way to pay for it. You are forced to get a job at the Dairy Queen
in Middle-of-Nowhere, USA, so you can pay back your crushing student loan debt. You are forced
to give up on your business, because frankly, you don't have the time. Besides,
the meager earnings of an Etsy shop owner ain't gonna cut it if you want to pay
those bills, honey.
You never get to roam the wilds and study God's glorious
creations, because you are too busy being yelled at by an angry old lady who
didn't want mustard on her Hungr-Buster. You never get to spend that memorable
semester abroad where you develop your life-altering world-paradigm, instead
you’ll have plenty of memories of watching fuzzy reruns on that TV you got from
goodwill. You never get to make advances in science to benefit not only the
biosphere, but humankind as a whole. You never fall in love, because, well, you
were supposed to meet the “one” at that party that was thrown by that girl you
know from Ag Economics. You quit writing. You ain’t got the time-- you have to
pull a double clopening shift at the DQ.
Instead of coming home to your handsome husband, who lives
with you in your cozy cabin in the woods (which happens to have the pleasant
aroma of pine needles and cinnamon); you come home to your one-bedroom trailer,
your fat grey cat named Edna, with the lingering scent of putrid hamburger grease
in your thinning hair. You spend the rest of your life alone, overweight, and
depressed and making 8 cents above minimum wage because you would rather be clicking
through the latest gossip about a celebrity that you don’t even care about,
than reading your biology textbook. Think about all the hours you spent
stalking the guy-you-kinda-had-a-thing-for-but-not-sure-if-he-felt-the-same-way’s
facebook page, instead of walking onto the stage to accept your diploma with your
head held high and the fire of accomplishment in your eyes. I’ll ask you one
thing: Was it worth it?"
Note: I imagine this hypothetical dream husband to be about 6' 4" with blond hair and blue eyes. I am currently taking applications.
Also: No offense intended to anyone who works at DQ. I love DQ with all my heart, but I've already paid my dues with over 2 years of service to the fast food industry, and would prefer never to return.