...when the semester is starting because everyone in your apartment building is having a party and is playing the same crappy techno music over and over. Not that I mind the celebration nor the occasional tapping sound made by the beer pong ball hitting our shared wall, it's just that it reminds me that I only have one more semester until I walk the Lawn and then eventually integrate myself into the "real world." (That, my friends, is an example of a run-on sentence. A big no-no when writing a formal essay. But this is not one of those. Forget those rules learned in ENWR 110 or your high school english class.) After seven gruelling semesters of college, am I ready to face this last one? No doubt. I can go through pages and pages of art history reading week after week, the occasional quizzes, the mind-numbing midterms and finals, back-to-back all-nighters, and - the fuel added to this mile-high bonfire - the week-long charrette. ONE MORE TIME.
Bring it on.