Who’s ready for good ol’ fashioned PSA, courtesy of Winter Break?
Game of Thrones tried to warn us. The delightfully macabre catchphrase of the show’s protagonist family, “Winter is coming”, is one that is meant to be taken as a warning— a reminder for constant vigilance because your enemies are around the corner. Out in the real world, winter is already here and instead of the beheaded patriarchs and medieval sass of Game of Thrones, our winter is a much craftier, silent enemy. It’s also a hell of a lot sadder.
In between shoveling plates full of homemade food into my mouth, I was totally holding my breath waiting for grades to come out. It’s like for five minutes you’re just purely grateful that finals are over and you can sleep for a solid nine hours without waking up in a pool of your own sweat while your subconscious screams at you for letting Dr. Mansfield down with your uselessness. That moment after you turn in the last final is literally nothing but pure exultation, as the hell you have been living in is finally at an end.
I am writing to you now at the end of battle before a final, decisive moment in my academia comes to pass. The war has been fought thoroughly with few casualties, but there are losses and gains that will be remembered for years to come. I bravely stepped into Dr. Kim's arena to fight my best, but was met with significant defeat that still stings. Yet, my close reading of "The Waste Land" stands as an astonishing breath of potential success. The final to match it, for Dr. Knickerbocker's closely reading poems course, was one that I feel great confidence about.
Treat boxes from Pizza Hut cannot be delivered on Thanksgiving. I found this out firsthand over the most recent break. It was a reprieve from the heart of a penultimate battle before the final exam storm would come. T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land" demanded a close reading essay, as well as Poe's "City in the Sea". A preface for "Let Loose" was also due. As much as I enjoy apocalyptic poetry and stories about spectral hands choking people out, there was much to do. These essays represented the last skirmishes for the longest phase of a great war.
The amazing diversity of people and views at C of I never ceases to amaze me. For example, tonight I went to an event put on by the Arabic-Hebrew Club celebrating three holidays: Hanukkah, Eid Al-Mawlid An-Nawbi, and Christmas. These are, respectively, Jewish, Muslim, and Christian holidays that are all celebrated in December this year.
Sausage. Mulled wine. Red Cabbage. Certainly, such warrior grub would stagnate and get boring after a few days, right? Nope, think again. There’s something to be said for Hungarian tenacity, especially when it comes to making and eating food.
If there weren’t a Thanksgiving Break shoved in there between Undead Weak and Dead Week I would have lost my ever-loving mind.
There is no part of the obscene amount of homework assignments, busy work, and essays piled on us by our feudal lord professors that I am thankful for. How dare they? HOW DARE THEY?
I’m kidding (kind of), those sweet people are just doing their jobs. I’m just very bitter because I spent this whole break working on homework instead of gorging myself and watching terrible Christmas movies.