Maybe it’s because I’m writing this on three hours of sleep, but I’ve begun to lose track of the all-nighters I’ve pulled this term.
God, I can’t tell whether I sound more like an insufferable academic sweat or a middle school boy hyped up on Red Bull. While it probably hasn’t been more than three or four times, it still feels like a lot. I work better at night — I always have — but staying up at all hours didn’t become a semi-frequent habit until this term. No doubt it’s a consequence of my workload, but I won’t bore you with the details. Last term I had similar commitments, and when I look back on the winter, I hardly remember what happened. It was an endless blur of EARS 2, “Evolution of Earth and Life” lectures, night laps at the Skiway, reading Virginia Woolf’s “To the Lighthouse” not once but twice, applying for jobs, repeat. I became hyper-focused on school at the expense of many other parts of my life, though out of obligation rather than interest. That isn’t to say my winter wasn’t fun, but unlike every other term, it was not marked by any significant change, memory or event, for better or for worse.
This term, my subconscious decided to revolt because deep down I knew my life could be more — or I had to try and make it more. This effort resulted in those three or four all-nighters and over a handful of other close calls. But it also meant I could frequent the Nugget Theater when I wanted. I got to spend an equal amount of time in Robo laughing and editing, and I could dedicate a whole day to watching the eclipse. That doesn’t mean I neglected my studies either. I even put more time into my classes than last quarter, spending hours reading more papers on Arab political thought than I can count. And it wasn’t because I had to — it was because I loved it. This isn’t to say that I’m perfect, that I do it all. There are still plenty of things I miss out on, but even though I’m exhausted, I’m finally living again.
Even now, I’d suffer through watching the sun rise from the Stacks for another time this term if it meant I’d get to jump in the river at midnight with my friends, like I’m planning to do later. Your life is never too far out of reach. You just have to be willing to work for it.
This week in Mirror, two freshmen muse on the end of their first years at Dartmouth through the beauty that surrounds them — whether that’s Occom Pond or Baker Tower. Another writer interviews guests who visited Dartmouth from other schools during the College’s biggest weekend, Green Key. We also get the scoop from a writer about the interactive anthropology course ANTH 50.47, “Archaeological Field Methods: Digging Dartmouth” and another writer makes her Mirror debut by interviewing ’27s who are gearing up to lead First Year Trips. Finally, two former editors of The Dartmouth reflect on the different impacts that Dartmouth has had on them, both good and bad.
Let this final editor’s note of the term serve as a reminder that you can sleep when you’re dead, Dartmouth. See you this fall.
