I'm relatively sure most students would agree that as gorgeous and wonderful as our campus is, it could benefit from a pretty serious makeover.
One of the biggest perks of being an upperclassman is no longer needing to take classes in crowded lecture halls with 200 other students three days a week with an additional 50-minute discussion.
Every year when October rolls around, certain things start to happen in Madison. Perhaps most notably, the weather drops approximately 25 degrees within a 48-hour period and Uggs reappear in full force.
Snarf: a character in the popular mid-1980s animated show ThunderCats, or the word I have to start this column with after losing a drinking-induced bet to my friends Saturday night.
In high school I was introduced to the term ""senioritis,"" the general laziness and apathy that overcomes most seniors when they realize they only have one school year to go before they're released into the world as adults. Shocking to those who know me, in high school I was a good student and didn't ever fully find myself succumbing to the slack-assness that befalls most seniors. It wasn't until mid-grapevine in my step aerobics class last Thursday that I realized: I have become the new definition of senioritis. Don't get me wrong, step aerobics is by far my favorite class this semester and provides the only exercise I'll get all year. For those who don't know me, working out is on my list of things I would rather die than do (along with watch a full episode of ""The Hills"" and reread Wuthering Heights). It's the fact that I dropped a four-credit course and picked up a one-credit physical education class because I thought 15 credits was just too much to ask of myself. I also only took classes that begin after 11 every morning. My self-expectations sink lower and lower with each passing day. I've found that even the most basic everyday tasks have begun to feel like climbing Mt. Everest. Getting dressed in the morning seems like more hassle than it's worth and showering consumes fifteen minutes of valuable sleep time—which is out of the question—so now I look like a bag lady everyday when I walk to class. My behavior reminds me of my junior year of high school when I was laid up for nearly two weeks after getting hit in the face with a baseball. A week before my junior prom I went to a local college baseball game with a friend. The first baseman overthrew a ball to third base—precisely where I was seated—and rocked me in the face with a ball. I was entirely too busy starring at the hot pitcher's ass to pay attention to the game or where the ball was being thrown and paid a heavy price. Back to the point, post-injury I would lie on the couch and moan until my Dad would come to wait on my every wish and desire. At first, it was all completely genuine. I couldn't consume anything that wasn't liquid or close to it and my pops makes delicious banana smoothies. But quickly I regained feeling in my face and movement of my jaw and my requests moved from bowls of Jello to four course meals and foot massages. Except now, despite the fact that my face is fully functional, I sprawl on my couch and beg my roommates to grab me a beer and make me a bagel. I would rather go hungry and die of thirst then get off my ass and do anything. And as bad as that sounds, it's even worse when it comes to school and studying. I went to the library last night to study and instead started shopping online for supplies for my semester in Africa.... I leave in July. Instead of prepping for my mass media law quiz Monday morning, I sat in the Grainger Hall Library and husband shopped. Congrats tall, good-looking guy in the grey t-shirt and Brewers hat checking his Fantasy Team—you had really big hands and a sweet sunburn... apparently I'm attracted to that. I'm not yet concerned about my unwillingness to do anything, mostly because I haven't faced anything daunting in class yet, besides Bonnie, my step aerobics teacher, telling us 10 percent of our class grade will come from exercise done outside of class. Just wondering, how much can failing a one-credit class really affect your GPA? I'm assuming eventually I'll have to get over this senioritis. But I'm also sure that it's going to get worse before it gets any better. So I offer a pre-emptive apology: If I smell or look dirty, fail to assist in any assignments involving group work or don't show up to class for weeks at a time, I'm sorry. I'm a senior with a bad case of senioritis... I just can't help it. Know any cures for senioritis that are easy and relatively effortless? Please share them with Jillian at jlevy2@wisc.edu.
Jillian's homeless summer comes to a close with the arrival of the school year
Read on Issuu
Solutions by The State News
