Picture this: It’s a just another Friday morning of winter term. You reluctantly drag yourself out of bed, trying to find the motivation to get through the one discussion that you have today. As you walk out the front door, you’re not met with the familiar chill of Eugene mornings, but rather you’re blinded by the sun. What month is it? Surely it cannot be the beginning of February. Suddenly, you no longer care that you have to sit through a Friday lab, because you know that the sun is out and as soon as class is over you get to start drinking ––and no one can judge you for it.

Once class is out, you’re practically sprinting home to change because you heard that your favorite frat is having a beer pong tournament that you just can’t miss.You’ve downed a few shots and you’re watching intently as the game is getting closer and closer. People are diving in the mud, Brad has just sunk Tyler’s cup, and everyone is going wild. Ahhh it feels like spring term. And then it dawns on you: you have an essay due at five, and you know damn well if you don’t do it now you never will.

You stumble into the library where it is literally vacant because everyone else is outside enjoying the sun. You crank out your paper in under two hours. Amazing. You’re pretty proud of this accomplishment so you reward yourself with a nap. It’s about six o’clock and your roommate runs in the rooming yelling about a party that’s going on. Your night starts earlier than you anticipated, but you’re not upset about it. You get dressed quickly and run out the door, champagne bottle hidden in your jacket because MIP’s are not the move. All your friends are already at the party, so as you’re walking you start taking off the packaging and the wire of the bottle so you can start drinking as soon as you get inside. Right as you’re about to walk through the door, the cork pops off.

Everything is in slow motion; you feel as if you’re in Call of Duty and a flashbang just went off next to you. It takes you a moment, but you realize you just hit yourself in the eye. You’re an idiot, but you won’t let that ruin your night. You find your friends atop an elevated surface and start dancing; all is good. It’s now 1 a.m. You realize you haven’t been sober for nearly 12 hours, so you make the responsible decision to take yourself home. You even take off your makeup before bed ––nice.

When you wake up the next morning, you wonder why your head hurts because you didn’t think you’d be that hungover. You open up your Snapchat to send out your streaks and you see where the pain is coming from. You gave yourself a black eye. Sweet. A canvas notification pops up on your screen saying the paper you wrote when you were drunk has been graded. You’re not ready to take another L, but you click on the grade anyways. A 97%? You’re a genius.

The sunlight coming through your window makes you forget that it’s only February, while the texts asking you what your plans are for the night remind you that it’s only Saturday. And that’s when you realize that you cannot, in fact, treat winter term like it’s spring term.