On Finals Week (Page 6 of 8)

It's the last Sunday of the semester, and I'm holed up in the library writing a blog post.  You know what that means -- it's Finals week, and I'm once again using this blog as an excuse to procrastinate on whatever it is I am actually supposed to be doing.  Finals Week posts tend to be, in some ways, reflective, as I get a chance to look back on a semester of life lessons and stories and stupid generalizations (like my post about judging you based on where you study).

This one's a little different, because most of the time, Finals Week comes with a sense of finality.  Instead, I find myself already thinking ahead to three weeks from now when I'll be moving all of my stuff back into the dorms at U of R for my summer job.  It feels like nothing's really ending, which I think is compounded by my fundamental inability to grasp the fact that I'm going to be a senior in about two weeks.  None of it seems real -- nothing's ending, nothing's starting, it's just kind of fading into itself.  Is this what the real world is like?  Who knows?

For those of you who have finished your finals already -- well, I hate you.  For those of you still struggling through, best of luck!

'Twas the night before finals
And all through UR...

I'll come up with a way to finish that rhyme someday.

Good luck,
Rachel Leigh

On The Things I Assume About You Based on Where You Study

You know that scene in Mean Girls when Janice and Damien are explaining the layout of the cafeteria to Cady, going around and pointing out all of the stereotypes and social groups?  Of course you do, because it's one of the greatest scenes in a movie that will define our generation.  My school is kind of like that.  And while I could go on for days about the stereotypes about the layout of our dining hall, I have something else to vent about.

With finals right around the corner and the entire population of the school (except the seniors who are so close to graduating that you can physically feel the number of f*cks they do not give) is going to start marking territory around Boatwright like some possessive, tiny-bladdered puppy, it seemed like the right time to do this.  I give you: "Partially-Unfounded Assumptions I Make About You Based on Where You Study"

• Boatwright (the Library): As a general rule, you're checking Facebook more than your textbook and probably using 8:15 and potty breaks as just another excuse to procrastinate.  Then again, so are the rest of us.  But there's more to it than that.
• B2: Aww...the group study area.  Couples that want to be obnoxiously coupley in the not-so-private privacy of the bottom level, a couple awkward study rooms, and the bathroom that people use when they really need to poop and don't want to be around other people.
• B1: Fratstars and the sorority biddies who love them (also known as the B-school in exile).  Also, the socially awkward people who actually WANT to sit and study on the silent floor.  I assume you have no social skills, no friends, and a generally sad future ahead of you.
• First Floor
• Open Area: I get it.  You're here with your sorority fam and you'll get on each other's cases to get work done after you finish catching up on the gossip you couldn't catch up on at chapter, fam dinner, and that time you got lunch like two hours ago.
• Quiet Section: Also known as the "We came here to get shit done" section of the library.
• Second Floor 
• Open Area: Frat guys and loud Internationals.  It's funny that you expected to get work done.
• Quiet Section: No really, who ARE you people?  I'm pretty sure I've never seen you in my life, probably because you never leave this room, and PLEASE stop glaring at me for slamming the bathroom door.  I can't help it that it's so dead silent in here that you could hear a fly land on a table.
• MRC: Don't even pretend you're doing anything other than checking Facebook and watching movies.  I can see your computer screen.
• Gottwald (Science Building): I assume your life is sad, you probably haven't slept in anything other than that chair in the lobby in about a week, and I'm sincerely concerned about the last time you showered.
• The B-School: You couldn't even detach yourself from outside Dean's office door and dress like a college student rather than my 40 year old math professor long enough to leave the B-School to study somewhere else.  You worry me.
• Your Dorm Room: You say "studying," I say "watching Netflix and ordering Jimmy Johns"

So, there you have it.  My in-depth explanations of the extent to which I judge you, based solely on where you could find a place to sit.  See you all in Boatwright, complaining about the temperature as always and sobbing uncontrollably over my Statistics study guide, in a few days.

Finally,
Rachel Leigh