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Nonfiction

As someone who is always in some degree of panic, I cannot express how much Winter Term means to me. Winter Term is quiet. College, like your Aunt Tammy’s personality, can only be described as much a lot; people are always expecting things from you, there’s shouting, and more often than not you’re crying. Winter Term is a break in the song, the instrumental jazz bridge before the swinging upbeat of the final refrain. Trust my musical metaphors, I watch High School Musical a lot and I’ve learned there’s nothing that can’t be conveyed through a solo in a darkened high school hallway the night before the Big Game.

People have a habit of romanticizing winter and I need everyone to understand that you should 100% never romanticize anything. That’s hard for me to say because writers love to romanticize stuff. We live for it. But winter term is not deserving of any glamorization. Winter term is ugly. Like post-Aunt Tammy’s divorce ugly. I never changed out of my pajamas, I ate fried cheese every day, I watched 154 hours of The West Wing in less than 3 weeks. Winter Term is what every 8 year old thinks being an adult is going to be like (what 8 year old doesn’t dream of someday watching a politico docudrama from 2002 for hours on end?) Winter Term is humanity stripped of the thin veneer of civility.

Which is why I love Winter Term. Like I said, we get to recharge from the much a lot-ness of college while also (usually) taking a fun class. This winter I took Vision in the Movies, which was basically a month of us reading about how dumb our brains truly are while watching romantic comedies and Star Wars. Again, in my pajamas because in Winter Term you sort of stop seeing most other people one campus and thusly have no need to worry about the triviality of pants.

Flash forward to now. Winter Term is dead, like Aunt Tammy’s eyes, and we’re slipping into Spring. And getting closer and closer to graduation, but that’s a whole other thing we never have to talk about again so totally don’t even feel the need to mention it again okay. Spring is a trip. It’s the High School Musical 3 of the school year; it’s busier, it’s brighter, we’re dealing with the exact same conflicts as the last two and yet we seem surprised, Corbin Bleu is there for some reason. Classssssiiiiic Spring, am I right?

Until then,

Ashley

 

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