I often wonder how I did any work in my California high school. It was sunny all the time, I was always in class, and I went out a lot on the weekends. But as spring reading period gets under way and the sun is shining, I am having some trouble motivating myself to sit in the library and crack the books.

Even more than the sunshine, though, talking with my friends has dissuaded me from my studies. Telling them my schedule elicits scorn--of course, I do only have 20 pages (15 of which are already written) and two exams.

I explain this to my friends and hear the standard reaction: "Twenty pages? And you've already written 15? I don't want to talk to you. I have 60 pages to write in the next five days."

I then wander off thinking, "Sixty pages in five days? Dude, I'm glad I don't have to do that. I'm in good shape. Let's go to Uno's. Let's go to the MFA. Let's party!"

Clearly my recent social interaction has not been doing wonders for my work ethic--and with friends that have 60 pages to write, there really isn't anyone to party with. Also, telling people how much work I have isn't really gaining me any friends; in fact, I might be accumulating enemies. So I might as well go it alone in the library.

Yesterday, I did go to Lamont. I thought that might convince me that I should start studying. I ended up looking at my laptop for an hour and half and thinking about everything but studying--from my friends that are graduating, to House formals, to Wednesday's episode of "Dawson's Creek." The sun streaming through the windows was definitely over-powering the neat study schedule I had planned and carefully pencilled into my planner.

As I was cruising down the stairs, ready to check my e-mail and get to work, I ran into a friend.

"What are you up to?" he asked.

"Just reading for tutorial," I replied. "What about you?"

"I have to get these books from the library--I have 700 pages of reading for this paper I have to write by Friday."

"Oh, okay," I said, figuring I'd better leave the poor guy to his work. Presumably, he was being a lot more productive than me.

But then, he asked, "Hey, do you want to come with me to Widener? I have to return these books."

"Sure," I said, and out of the library I went, out into the sun again, feeling kind of sleepy.

Listening to my friends' unbelievable workloads has made me realize that I don't have too much to do, a rare occurrence in my college career. At a school where people definitely pride themselves on how busy they are--in terms of hours worked, pages written, tests to study for and time spent in club meetings--I'm feeling a little relaxed. During reading period, that seems to be an abnormal thing. Why don't I have work to do? Is there something wrong with me?

Then I asked myself if I was the psychotic one--why was I questioning the fact that I had some free time? I'm sure in high school I never thought, "Hmm...I don't have much homework this weekend. What am I doing wrong?" I probably thought, "Hmm...I don't have much homework this weekend. Where can I hang out?" and proceeded to the Fro-Yo Shoppe. Granted, I could probably go to the Greenhouse any day this week and see someone I know but the problem still remains--that person will be studying furiously.

I have felt apologetic about my lack of work, and most of my friends seem to think I should feel that way. I am both upset and dismayed by this apparent culture of productivity.

On the one hand, my peers have always encouraged me to push myself and try new things at Harvard, to work and grow in new ways. Without that encouragement, I would never have learned to dance bhangra or teach Peace Games or spent inordinate amounts of time on my sophomore essay for history and literature.

But there's a less positive side to the pressure. I was so behind on my work after Ghungroo, the South Asian Association cultural show, that I stayed on campus over spring break to catch up. And now, when I finally have some free time I can't do what I could have then--like go home, or to Bermuda, Jamaica, or Paris for that matter. Furthermore, I have to endure the evil eye from my friends and peers who are as committed as I was during Ghungroo.

Even though it has led to sleepless nights in my past and now plagues my friends, the culture of commitment is ultimately what keeps me interested in school. If I had this much time all the time, I would probably watch "The Cosby Show" a lot more, but I might not meet interesting people or do as many new things. And while I complain about my work, I will be satisfied when I'm done and can say, "I wrote 90 pages this term."