A new semester is upon us. No worries, faithful readers, my planner is being color coded as we speak. We're all digging into our new coursework, trying to get into the elusive "Substance Abuse" class and desperately pretending the former of these doesn't exist.
I am a fourth year. "Fourth year" in the spring semester is actually code for "I don't give a rat's patootie." Yes, I said patootie. The Cavalier Daily has standards, people.
So what have I been doing for the past 10 days? Why, I've been acting like I am a horse, and there is a fly named "class" on my behind -- I've been ignoring it or brushing it away with my tail. I have been searching for classes that fulfill a very intense screening process: They have to take place on Tuesday or Thursday and have no discussion.
As you might imagine, fourth year has been really rough so far. I've managed to do something fun every single night my roommates and I have been back in town. Between basketball games and specials at various Corner establishments, it's like "Christmakuh." My roommates also have a very serious case of what we would call senioritis if we went to any other school (does that make it fourth-year-itis?) Saturday night, we came home from a night on the town and decided to sleep in the living room. Since our living room does not ever reach a temperature most rational people would refer to as "warm," we almost froze to death. It, however, was a great way to kick off the semester as roommates.
Note to all you other roommates out there in reader-land: You need to re-bond. You may think your connection from last semester remains intact, but you are wrong. Relationships only work when you put the effort into them.
My favorite part of this semester, so far, is that all of my friends also want to re-bond. On Fourth Year Bar Night, I saw many old friends, and we reminisced about the good old days. I've also made plans with several of my close friends for dinner or some sort of other social activity so we can catch up on the past month of our lives.
Back to my roommates: Sunday, three of us went out for brunch before the basketball game. I realize this is not the sports section, but yay for J.R. Reynolds! But I digress ...
We arrived home approximately three hours later. In our absence, the remaining roommates had built -- wait for it -- A FORT. They used our futon as the base, a lamp and a coat rack as the support system and our sheets for both roof and walls.
Our fort was no small structure. There was a living room and two bedrooms, with a couch and an air mattress as beds, respectively.
Meanwhile, I called my parents to talk to them about the start of the new semester. They seemed entirely unimpressed that their 21-year-old, college-educated daughter had spent the afternoon watching football in a fort. I don't understand why: I mean, we implemented the basics of architecture, structural engineering, creative solutions and figured out how best to procrastinate all at the same time. Well, the pizza guy sure thought it was cool.
As you can see, I am approaching my last semester with approximately the same seriousness that a graduate student approaches a 100-level course.
I would like to point out I have yet to completely abandon my academic endeavors. I have even purchased most of my books (note to my professors: In the future, please don't assign reading for the first week of class in a book the bookstore has yet to order.) I've even made an effort to do most of my assignments thus far. So my parents should not be concerned.
For you underclassmen, don't get too stressed out. It's college, and you shouldn't take life too seriously. If nothing else, you can look forward to your last semester when you can go out every night, act like you live or die by Cav Man's sword and remember that it really is the best time of your life.
Laura's column runs bi-weekly on Thursdays. She can be reached at lsisk@cavalierdaily.com.
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