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Food, Floors, and Finals

It’s 3 am, I’m lying on the floor, and all things considered finals are going great.

When it comes to finals, everyone inevitably ends up on the floor at 3 am, either literally or figuratively. You can tell when a person has accidentally slipped into the “3 am floor” emotional state when they go wistfully dead in the eyes and their hand starts reaching out towards an invisible horizon. They also lose the ability to say vowels, which is odd.

Anyways, the reason for my literal position on the floor at 3 am is because I’m trying to accomplish several things at once and it’s just easier to multitask when you’ve got a lot more room to wallow in self-pity. I’m making flashcards for two separate finals, drafting potential answers for essay questions, reviewing powerpoints, and outlining a paper. So I’ll make this blog short, sweet, and to the point so as to spare you from witnessing my approaching breakdown.

Woven in between finals prep, existential crises, dorm decontamination, and weepy goodbyes are sweet pieces of salvation. These are events that usually include food, rowdy seniors celebrating finishing their thesis and, most importantly, are devoid of flashcards or essay questions. They are also infinitively more interesting to write about then anything I could say about the floor. (For those interested—it’s a gray and maroon pattern that smells like classist shame.)

First up, Yotepalooza, an event that really needs very little description beyond its suffix but since I’m procrastinating I’ll humor you. Yotepalooza is the day every spring when the yearbook staff hands out the yearbook. If you find yourself reading that sentence and thinking “Wait, colleges have yearbooks? Why?” then congrats, you sound like 75% of the student body, including the yearbook staff themselves. But it’s cool. I love the yearbook and I’m not just saying that because I’m a staff writer for it. I’m a big fan of convenient nostalgia in general, so that’s definitely part of it. They gave out the yearbooks with ice cream sundaes and raffle tickets. I never understood the sheer magnetism of your average raffle until starting college. Especially this year at Yotepalooza. I literally saw three separate friendships fall apart during the course the raffle. It was a jarring experience, to say the least. It makes life suddenly seem so much more fragile.

Next, there was Simply Finplot (a portmanteau describing the party held by the Simplot and Finney dorms) and Cinco de Mayo. Both those events were catered by the taco bus down the street and this was both an ingenious idea and a terrible misjudgment. First of all, don’t ever offer college students an unlimited amount of anything, especially food perishables. My god, it was terrifying. I ate 6 tacos in less than hour. I wasn’t even hungry. It’s that instinctual for us. We don’t want those tacos, but our fight-or-flight responses don’t understand that and before you know it, you’re crouching in the corner with a plate full of spicy meats and cheeses. Besides that, there was face painting, snow cones, twister, dancing, and temporary tattoos of the taco bus we all embarrassed ourselves at. That seemed a little callous, but whatever.

Then there was the last cabaret show of the year. For those of who don’t know what cabaret is, it’s the improv group on campus that has, collectively, a bigger sense of humor than the entire state of Montana. These shows are not for the faint of heart or those with asthma. You know what I mean? It’s like… their shows are so funny, it physically hurts you? It’s beautiful and uncomfortable and we love it. I took a break from studying to go, which probably was the best decision I could have ever made. It saved me from imploding in a giant fit of anxious moxie.

And that leads us to today, where I’ve been on the floor for 12 hours straight and have eaten my weight in pizza. I’m like a rockstar but super depressing and uncomfortable to look at.

So that’s neat.

I’ll be back later this week with my final post before the summer. Presuming I ever manage to get off the floor. Fingers crossed.

-Ashley

Ashley is a junior Creative Writing major from Payette, Idaho.