End of semester is hellish for all

Allson Pritchard

Only a couple weeks of school are left, and one of the things I need to cross out on my endless to-do list is writing this column. Well, they say write what you know. All I know right now is that I think I’m in hell. And I’m not the only one burning up in flames.

The end of the year equates a horrific mixture of projects, papers, exams – or any sort of school unpleasantry is tripled. And if you’re lucky, you might have one of those fun professors who thinks his or her class is the only one you have. And therefore you’d love to spend 20 hours a week doing stuff for it. If you think you’re almost done, some other foul thing is sure to pop onto your plate. Um, excuse me miss, I don’t think I ordered the buffet.

Let’s not forget the other joys of the semester’s end. Computers across campus will be sure to crash, usually a day or two before your paper is due. Or maybe if you’re a little luckier, your printer might break instead. Or how about a paper jam? Yeah, those are pretty sweet.

And if you have a part-time job, you might as well shoot yourself now.

You open up your planner or whatever mess you have, and reveal an insane web of words and obligations covering weeks of pages. You go to add something, and realize you already have some other let-me-go-stab-my-eye-out thing to do at that time.

And let’s not forget the legendary roommate drama. I can’t tell you how many friends have gotten in fights with roommates about electric bills, rent bills — you name it. Or maybe your roomie stole your favorite sweater, man or vibrator.

What else can go wrong? If you’re in hell, we might as well throw a few more logs onto the fire.

Oh yes, your personal life. Throw in a friend or two who groans that you don’t have enough time for them. Then throw in complainer friend and forget school, let’s party friend and watch your soul fall lower into the pit of despair. Maybe your parents will call you to remind you that you’re on the verge of your whole life and everything’s riding on you.

And then there’s the love department. Let’s not even go there. Men and women — err, boys and girls in most cases — have a way of disappointing and deceiving people that makes me sick to my stomach. Every nice girl I know gets totally screwed over and nice guys gets overlooked and deemed too dorky to date.

But if you’re anything like me, you’re still a hopeful romantic loser who still listens to love songs and pines for the love you deserve — who still believes things will turn out good, even when your face is glued to a textbook and you have five hours until your final paper is due.

The end of the year just sucks. What’s the point of complaining? I don’t really know. Maybe there’s solace in knowing this part of the year sucks for all or maybe not. I offer no Hallmark hope or mantra. Maybe you’re better off getting wasted into oblivion. Maybe you’re better off just doing your crap and not thinking about it. Who knows?

I guess we all should just try to make the best of it. Life is a horrendous experience. But — it’s the only experience.

Allison Pritchard is a senior Electronic Media Production major and columnist for the Daily Kent Stater. Contact her at [email protected].