Before I get into this column, I have to congratulate the Huskies for their close win against UNLV Saturday. That was the last game ever for some of our guys, and they looked pretty good out there in national TV-land.

Well, it’s December already. I don’t know about you, but these next two weeks are going to be, quite possibly, the worst two weeks of my life. I hate this time of year.

It starts with Thanksgiving. What a tease. You get all excited for a little vacation and … woah, there it went. For a lot of people, Thanksgiving was nothing to look forward to anyway, because there are always some sadistic teachers who decide to set yesterday as the deadline for all major projects.

Don’t even think about making good on any of those promises to quit smoking or cut back on alcohol consumption. You’re gonna need all the vices you can get with the onslaught of final exams.

This is the week that everything you’ve supposedly been working on all semester is due—from papers to computer programs to art projects. Blick!

Where’s the sun when you need it? Now you know why old people always talk about the weather. It’s because they know there’s something intrinsically causal about the weather and its effect on humanity.

For instance, if it were bright and sunny, little birdies chirping in the trees, you wouldn’t mind so much when you miss the deadline on a project that constitutes 40 percent of your grade.

But when the weather makes you feel like you’re imprisoned in a clam shell beneath the Atlantic, the most trivial mishap seems like a major calamity.

Notice the effect it has on people’s dispositions. You thought people on this campus were cold and impersonal before! Before, no one would look at you. It was like you were a nonentity drifting through the hallways. If someone did look at you it was only because part of lunch was still on your face.

But now it’s different. People sneer at you. If you see people you know but haven’t talked to in a while, don’t ever make the mistake of asking how they are or you’ll get a lot of: “!!#!#$#$”&!%**”$#$#%”#&$.”

This is also the season for the mad rush at the Health Center. Got a cold? Too bad—so do 18,000 other people.

For all those freshmen out there who have yet to experience a winter on the frozen tundra, you’ll soon find that “High Plains Drifter” takes on a new meaning in DeKalb. Be prepared to experience the worst behavior possible by one human to another on the Huskie buses. There’s no mercy.

Okay, okay, so maybe I’m being a little cynical. Things will get better soon, right? Yeah, sure. But not while we’re on this campus. Seriously, it’s not that I’m taking another poke against NIU.

It’s just that by the time all the pressure is off, the first real snowfall starts bringing signs of Christmas cheer and everyone gets nice and humanitarian again, we’ll be on our way home for the holidays.

In the meantime, this is still the worst part of the semester for anyone even remotely concerned about the possibilities of not graduating on time.

Pretty soon the Wellness Center will be coming out with their pamphlets on how to beat stress. It would be nice to read all about the benefits of rest and relaxation but it’s too hard to hold the little leaflets steady after your twentieth NoDoz.

ow about those little Care Packages your parents are supposed to send you? What do they have in there—candy bars and cold medicine or something? Personally, I could do better with a carton of Newport Lights and a case of beer.

But really, there are only about three weeks left and what’s the worst that can happen? So you have to take an incomplete in a few subjects, and maybe you bomb an exam or two. The good news is that this is happening to everyone. Misery loves company and we’ve got plenty of it.

emember what mom and dad used to say: Just put your nose to the grindstone and it’ll all be over with soon enough. Good luck.