The air hangs still and bitingly cold, the clouds shroud us in shade, and no longer do we see hummingbirds flitting from flower to flower — winter is coming to Berkeley and soon the dead will walk.
We will emerge from our cushioned coffins, punch our fists up through mounds of notes, quizzes and practice exams, and chase the only sustenance that can ease our suffering: an A. We will feast on the pages of readers and textbooks, lecture slides will slide down our throats, and bibliographies will bubble away in vats of formidable final paper preparations.
And on the assigned fateful day we will regurgitate it all, freeing ourselves from its grasp and leaving behind a mess that only a GSI can clean up.
Happy dead week, Bears. Stay alive and stay scared.
Peace, love and Clog.