The Final Semester of College

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I was recently asked by my old college newspaper to write a column about how seniors should approach the final semester of their utopian college existence. Knowing that I could provide a degree of wisdom possessed only by those who have truly enjoyed a diverse post-collegiate experience, I accepted. Plus, I still get excited about writing an unpaid column for my small college newspaper. Success, clearly, is relative.

Nevertheless, I set out to write the column that the editors wanted: a witty little number, detailing how second semester seniors should spend their remaining time in a drunken crawl, saving every ounce of energy for all the casual sex they’ll be having instead of attending whatever blow-off courses they enrolled in. All of which is, of course, good advice, and as such I dispensed and expounded upon it with much glee:

Procrastination and extensions: Let’s be honest: it’s in the nature of college students to procrastinate. Why should this be any different when it comes to the love life? The scenario’s about the same; just tweaked ever so slightly: your collegiate assignment was to copulate, desecrate and fornicate with every attractive person on your campus. Three and a half years later, all you’ve gotten down on paper is the intro. It’s poorly written, far below what you’re capable of and probably fat. Now you have four months to complete that assignment; I wish you the best of luck. Remember, though: just as how an extension saved your ass countless times in class, a sexual extension can be a godsend (though I doubt god would appreciate his name attached to such a pursuit). Keep in touch with all those missed opportunities. Find out where they live. Visit that city in a nonchalant manner, under the guise of a job interview or drug pick-up. Then, in a reminiscent moment of bliss, burn through all the obscene positions Cosmo has in the July “Cosmo Sutra” or whatever the name is of the nonsense those depressed ladies put together.

Incidentally, don’t be discouraged if you’re in a relationship heading into second semester. No, actually, be discouraged. Somewhere, every male with a girlfriend going into second semester is smacking his head; possibly with a hammer. I know my forehead still aches (just kidding dear, I don’t blame you for ruining my final semester).

Academics: If you’re still scrambling to finish some degrees come second semester, you’re either greatly over- or under- achieving, and thus, nothing that I say here is going to matter.

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