I was organizing my pencils this morning. Allow a few seconds for that sentence to sink in. I was categorically separating the colors, shapes and sizes of my writing utensils. And all the while, I was cheerfully belting out a song. Not just any song, mind you, but the charming folk ditty “The Unicorn Song,” by Peter, Paul and Mary:

“When I was growing up,

My best friend was a unicorn.

The others smiled at me, and called me crazy.

But I was not upset, by knowing I did not conform.

I always thought their seeing must be hazy.”

I got out the ol’ “two-wheels,” chuckling as I made use of this antiquated phrase, and began to mechanically churn the wheels in the direction of my first class.

“My, I slept well,” said my inner voice, an over-enthusiastic 1950s teenager who anxiously awaits Ma and Pa at the close of the workday. “A full 9 hours! And I got work done, too!”

I reflected on my new study habits. Finally, I thought, I’ve got it all down. I do homework AND I sleep! What a novel concept. I decided at the start of spring quarter to go to sleep before 12 and wake up before 9, to do my most intense studying during the day and to never, under any circumstances, take naps. And surprisingly, unlike my plans to stop drinking caffeine, eating vegetables, taking pictures of myself with Photobooth and going in for psychology studies that pay a sub-ten-dollar amount, this plan actually worked.

Oh dear though, I thought, what ever will I do with all of my free time?

Perhaps, I can engage in extracurricular activities that will reflect well upon me when I decide to enter the workforce. Or, alternatively, I can volunteer, which will also reflect well upon me when I decide to enter the workforce. Gee, I enjoy the prospect of entering the workforce.

My mind wanders off to ponder the meaning of the word “workforce,” as I sit alertly in class, taking an abundance of notes and marveling at my mental agility (no doubt resulting from the copious sleep). I even find myself whistling the “Andy Griffith” song as I bike back from my history class.

And it hits me square on, once more: what the hell am I doing?

The natural consequence of becoming studious is becoming boring. This is a tried and proven fact, and I found it out for myself while biking gaily back to my dormitory and giving myself an internal pat on the back for good study habits.

What a mistake! All work and no play really does make for a dull boy. Sure, I get more work done, but work, by nature, is not meant to be done. It is meant to sit idly, as I construct cardboard outfits for use in soccer matches. Work is supposed to disappear, as I tape a fake coconut bra to my chest and create a grass skirt out of palm fronds. And most importantly, work is supposed to do itself, if I wait long enough.

Let this be a rallying cry to all of you. As you sit in the library, the world turns, and “As the World Turns” is a really crappy TV program. As you type away in Meyer, there are half-naked people outside playing in the foam that someone has created in the fountains. And as you sing “The Unicorn Song” and sort pencils, the guy down the hall is telling a story about Full Frontal Nudity.

I learned a valuable lesson today, and I hope convey it to all of you before it’s too late. Dullness can happen. It is a real problem. But you can fight it, with irregular sleep cycles, irrational costume creation, and general irreverence. At the very least, you can triumphantly leave those pencils in their haphazard heap, as you trump off to create problems for administrative officials.

Nat hopes to overcome his dullness through intense bouts of heavy metal head-banging. Email him with more boredom solutions at nat.hillard@stanford.edu.