The Eighth Page


Ahhhhhhhh yes. Winter term. So many good times we’ve had, so many laughs we’ve shared, and so many… Who am I kidding? I’m living a huge cancerous lie! I am a junior. Or a freshmen. Or whatever the heck they call us here. I suppose those Features Editor cretins upstairs are certainly dancing around and having a ball. I can picture it now… Cretin 1: Eureka! I’ve got it! Why don’t we assign a winter term themed article to the only guy who hasn’t had a winter term? Cretin 2: I do say, jolly good thinking my chap! Let’s have some tea and crumpets! Cretin 1: What’s a crumpet? Cretin 2: I have no idea. Cretin 1: I think I love you… Yes, I know it may come as a shock, but the fact remains, I have yet to experience the mystical ritual that is often referred to as the winter term. I have only heard stories and myths; I can only guess from the lore. Even though I haven’t lived a day of winter term, I still fantasize about it like any other young lad of my age. I imagine it to be a campus full of pretty pink ponies dancing on paths made of rainbows and lollipops. It will rain gumdrops and pixie dust every day and I will be the official spreader of happiness. Of course in order to fulfill the requirements of this position I would need some sort of transportation device so I could cover a larger distance, thus spreading the largest amount of cheer. I believe a pink dinosaur would be very sufficient for this job. Contrary to the stereotype of a typical dinosaur, my pink one would be happy and cheerful, just like me. Besides, since when has any pink thing been evil in any way? For golly gosh sakes, it’s pink! Gee Whiz! In addition to being pink, my dinosaur would eat up people’s sadness instead of their intestines. Times would be good at Phillips Academy. For sure, this scenario would be Winter Term at its finest hour. I sincerely apologize for anyone who had to read the garbage I wrote above. I am not held responsible for any gagging and/or vomiting performed as a result of my overdose of Prozac along with the comsumption of the entire line of My Little Pony merchandise. My bad. So now would be about the time for some crudely humorous list entitled “Ways to Survive Winter Term.” Unfortunately, I’m probably the last guy anyone would want to hear advice on this certain topic; I’ll be the first guy to admit it. So that makes me the first and the last guy. Whoa. I’m two guys at once. Wow. I never seize to amaze myself. Except for that one time back in ‘Nam. I still can’t believe that Conor May ’09 would do something like that. Well, that’s enough reminiscing for one sad, pathetic article. Although I’m not authorized to give you readers any advice for surviving Winter Term, I can reveal to you a helpful tidbit of information that I’ve picked up along my numerous travels across Uranus. How original. A Uranus joke. Man, I’m getting worse by the second. But seriously, this has been the secret to all of my success. Here it goes: Try not to die. P.S. By the time you have finished reading this article, the author will have A.) Been swallowed whole by a rabid octopus-man or B.) Fully experienced winter term in all of its entirety. If it is option B, be sure to give the author a hefty pat on the back, because if anyone deserves it, it’s him.