That time of the year
By: Ali Hinman, Columnist
It’s that point in the semester.
It’s that point when you don’t know if the stress or the pollen will kill you first.
It’s that point when you don’t even smell your clothes to see if they’re clean anymore, you just put on what’s closest to you and go to class.
It’s that point when you start researching what major you can change to that will allow you to skip all the BS classes (hint: there are none).
It’s that point in the semester when finding a formal date becomes a scramble to grab the best looking person near you.
It’s that point in the semester when the weather says “shorts,” but your pale hairy legs say “pants.”
It’s that point in the semester when your to-do list is exponentially longer than your attention span.
It’s that point the semester that makes you feel like taking a nap after waking up from your nap.
It’s that point in the semester when you are too far away from spring break to reminisce as well as too far from summer to have anything to look forward to.
It’s that point in the semester when even if you are looking toward summer, you can’t see it over the pile of group projects and finals that are sitting in front of sweet freedom.
It’s that point in the semester when you aren’t sure what to wear on a day that will range from 60 to 80 degrees.
It’s that point in the semester when you spend more time in the library than you do breathing.
It’s that point in the semester when spoonfuls of peanut butter becomes breakfast because the last time you went shopping for food was before spring break.
It’s that point in the semester when the only groceries you’ve actually purchased have been of alcoholic nature.
It’s that point in the semester when, if you can get through it, you can get through anything.
