Finals week is rapidly approaching.

It’s the time to look back on all your diligently taken notes, all your previously graded exams and carefully filed assignments. It’s time to set up a study schedule, make an outline for that paper you’ve known about all year.

Lol. Or nah.

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If you’re anything like me, you haven’t even begun to think about finals week.

If you’re anything like me, your notes are messy and half-legible, margins filled with doodles.

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If you’re anything like me, these notes are scattered across a number of notebooks. Or, in other words, the notes are scrawled on whatever paper you had with you that day, whether that’s a personal journal, a sketchbook, the back of a worksheet or even (sometimes) (rarely) the actual correct notebook you purchased for the class.

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If you’re anything like me, you might be able to find that old assignment or test shoved into one of these notebooks or, more likely, crumpled at the bottom of your bookbag, right next to a broken pen, a smooshed granola bar and--oh yea!--THERE’S that hat you thought you’d lost long ago.

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If you’re anything like me, you’re kind of a shit show. No offense.

But, let me let you in on a little secret: there are more of us out there than meets the eye.

And, while we’re sharing things, let me tell you something else: it’s okay to be a shit show.  In fact, at our age, it’s normal and completely acceptable. I might even go as far as encouraging you to embrace your messy, barely together lifestyle now while you still can.  

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Looking back on my last four years of college, it’s easy to pick out certain moments that I regret or cringe-worthy memories that I’m still embarrassed about, that still keep me up in a cold sweat in the early hours between night and daybreak (lots and lots and LOTS of embarrassing memories) (I’m looking at you, Jerry who told me my feet smelled).

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However, probably my biggest regret is how high strung I was in the first couple years of being a college student. I never skipped class. I completed all of my readings and homework. I rarely, if ever, hung out with pals late on weeknights. I was trapped in my books, obsessed with the idea that my brain was all I had. Growing up an awkward, unpopular string bean, I was at the top of my class, constantly reading and always doing my work on time, albeit amidst procrastinative habits. (That being said, reading doesn’t make you awkward or ugly or unpopular or nerdy. I still need to read every night before I go to bed, and nothing brings me greater relaxation and joy).

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Once I got to college, I still didn’t realize that the asset I’d always relied on--my intelligence--didn’t define me. It didn’t need to be a crutch to hide behind.

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I didn’t realize that prioritizing fun sometimes was good for my mental health and sometimes very, very necessary. I didn’t realize that I’d have more fun rolling into my Friday morning 9 a.m. class, baseball cap pulled low over my eyes, hungover from a Thursday that was a little too thirsty.

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I didn’t realize that a solid group of pals that would push me out of my comfort zone would help me find confidence and acceptance in myself, qualities that are necessary to success, no matter how good of a brain I might have.

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Now is the time to find that group of friends. Now is the time to be a shit show alongside them.

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College is practically the only time you can get away with lying in your best friend’s bed on a Monday night watching “The Office” until four in the morning, eating a McChicken and analyzing texts from that boy you’re obsessed with.

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College is the only time it’s acceptable to consume nothing all day except coffee and a family-sized bag of chips or to get silly drunk on a Wednesday night off of boxed wine.

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College is the only time you can go to class in your p.j.s, two minutes late and wearing a stained sweatshirt smelling distinctly of Floor.

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Now is the time. Don’t let it pass you by.