Book buying, scheduling drama as classes begin

It has come. We've had our freshman week — which, of course, is really not just for freshman, but for everyone. We've had our fun and games, and now it has returned. It has come to wipe the smiles off our faces, and eliminate such things as rest and relaxation from our lives. It has come to strengthen our minds, and weaken our immune systems. It has come to slam our faces in reality and our noses raw on the grindstone. It has come to strip us of our humanity and turn us into machines, turning out solutions as fast as our little gears can handle. It is my sworn enemy, it comes in many forms, but none can hide its true and complete treachery. It is — and I shudder to even mention its hideous name — but they say that fear of a name only amplifies fear of the thing itself so here goes: WORK.

This mean seem like an exaggeration, or even melodramatic, but find me a student who is actually happy with the surge in work and the decline of free time that has fallen upon us, and I'll smack them in the head until they don't like it anymore. But seriously, it's never an easy transition from play to work, and this year is proving to be even more complicated than the last. Again, I'm foolishly taking five classes, and again, they are all-high impact classes, which either attests to my insatiable ambition, or utter idiocy. Add to the mix my newly acquired membership in the a cappella group, the Wildcats (yea-HOOAH!), and that makes one very busy little Princetonian. This time, however, it's as if the fates themselves were giving me a message, a warning of what I was and now am about to undertake.

First of all, I had put a check in the branch of the Fleet bank in my hometown before I left so that when I arrived here in Princeton, I would have the funds necessary to buy my books and such. By some annoying whim of fate, on my first stop at the U-Store the funds had not yet been deposited and my card was denied. Humiliation number one. Then, the next day, several business days after I had deposited the check, I went over to Micawber's to pick up some other books for classes, and suffered humiliation number two when my card was denied yet again. It took me, no exaggeration, at least seven or eight trips to the U-Store and Micawber's before I was able to pick up all my books, thanks to my lack of cashola, and my professors' propensities to adding Pequod packets at the last minute. There went my money, and with it, my pride.

Then, there was the scheduling snafu that threatened to upset my entire year. Five classes, each with two to three lecture per week, four of which have precepts and one of which has a lab, all add up to a big scheduling challenge for yours truly. Imagine my dismay at finding out that one of my classes had only two available precept spots, both of which occurred at the same time as my organic chemistry lab, which is, to put it in technical terms, a huge pain the hind quarters to reschedule — especially since all of my other precepts were taking up my afternoons. Of course, I could have dropped the class, but my overly type-A personality would not let me give up so easily, not to mention that this class was so unimaginably cool that I just could not bear to let it go. So I was all set to completely disrupt my entire schedule, all for the sake of one one-hour precept. I had already emailed the person in charge of assigning labs twice, and the other professor once before I got word that my professor had relented and opened up a night precept for those of us with conflicts. Of course, this required another email to my lab director, and one of thanks to my professor, both of who are probably sick of me already.

Needless to say, it's not been an easy first couple of weeks. There have been obstacles blocking my path, and sadistic strains on my blood pressure. Now, with all the work mounting, there shall be more of the same. But I know that this year, I will make it — just like I did last year and just like I will next year, when the similar things will inevitably happen to me again. I wish all of you, my fellow students, good luck getting back in the saddle. It's tricky business, but with some fancy footwork, we'll all come out only mildly scarred.

Noelle Muro is a sophomore from East Haven, Conn.